A Life Well Lived

May

Bluebells

In my childhood, May meant Whitsuntide;  we were a non-religeous family, but the rhythm of the church festivities ordered our lives. Whitsuntide meant new clothes: however poor people were, there was always new clothes for Whitson.  Dressed in our new outfits, dress/ coat/ hat/ bonnet /shoes, usually sandals for the coming summer, plus a pair of new white socks and of course gloves, we would visit neighbours who would admire us and reward our attractiveness with a sixpence. Now here my memory is somewhat hazy, but it seems that once the sixpence was assured, we walked through The Cutting, a rough track in Calverley Woods, to Appely Bridge to watch the “Whit Walkers” come through.  These were those extraordinary people who enter walking competitions using that peculiar gait which ensured that at all times one foot is in contact with the road.  Anyway, we loved to watch this annual event and, once Mother had had enough, we would repair to the local hostelry, The George and Dragon, for a bag of crisps and a dose of lemonade!  Then up the track, which is quite steep, home usually stopping half way to pick an armful of bluebells. Oh the perfume, the smell of English bluebells en masse, I would dearly love to have that experience again! I said this memory is hazy because I cannot imagine me, dirty little ragamuffin that I was, going, dressed up to the nines into the woods …… False memory?

May 1972, started antenatal classes: I was determined to keep my child despite all the difficulties; Judy and Veronica were SO supportive and encouraged me by offering positive solutions regarding childcare, flexible working etc  My dear friend Anne was a constant visitor, forever bigging me up and ever confirming her valuable friendship. Just love her ……

Despite working hard, trying my best to keep my sanity, I could not see how I could manage long term, Judy was a stop gap: I had come to her rescue as she had come to mine in our hours of need, but the future seemed a very scary place, in which I had no agency.  Rebecca needed me but I had to work, no benefits in those days, no spare cash for house repairs, visits to see Mum, no dosh for  clothes for a growing child …

No.2

Two years on, married to Michael Rowe, May 1974 I was in the last few weeks of pregnancy, enjoying some light Opera at The Kings Theatre, Southsea.  I was huge, needing to go to the loo all the time, excusing myself to my neighbours each time I made them get up while I tried to avoid hitting the people in front with my bump!  After Christopher, I never had any periods and Doctors were keen to tell me that further pregnancies were highly unlikely and I should be thankful for my beautiful little girl …

Baby Ben

So, Ben was my miracle baby and Rebecca was my bonus, such was the pressure from John and Diana for me to let them have Rebecca.  It would have been AN answer and it took all my strength and support from my friends to resist their solution …  I am forever grateful to these friends for all the love they gave, all the advise offered and the hours of patience they displayed as I rehashed my problems again and again. So lucky to have them.