The Lonely Years

What follows are once again my own vivid memories, as I no longer have Doug’s diaries to help me remember.

In March 1984, after Doug had died, I found I was alone at the age of 76, but determined to carry on as usual with my church work. There was Gracie to keep an eye on, and Sally to visit once a week, and Liz and David and Chris and Shirley visiting occasionally. I could do all my own work and shopping at that time, thank goodness, which kept me moving. There was still Winnie Cummings to worry about, who of course was so upset at her younger brother’s death, but Chris contacted her and went to see her, so she was able to rely on him for advice etc., which was a great relief.

Anyhow Gracie was the first one to require help, because in June she suddenly fell while ironing, and broke her hip, crawled into the sitting room , and lay on the floor all night by the fire. I had two urgent phone calls the next morning, one from her neighbour, whose milkman had suggested that something was wrong, so she had walked round and heard Gracie call. The other call from her friend, Mrs. Smithers, who had her door key, so the neighbour kindly fetched it, and managed to get in , and realised what had happened. Needless to say I phoned Sally, and she rushed round, and took me there. We phoned the doctor, and he called for an ambulance, and of course I went with Gracie to hospital, but Sally soon followed to keep me company, as all the boys were at school.

Her hip was operated on, and she seemed fine until her mental condition began to deteriorate, and she upset the nurses who I do not think were very kind, and complained to me about her. Eventually she was transferred to Nunnery Fields, which was hopeless. By that time she was completely mental, and did not speak at all, just looked blank, and did not know us, in a ward with women who were convalescing, and behaving normally. The last time we saw her she could not swallow the sandwiches thrust upon her, was shivering, and no doubt had pneumonia or something. We stayed as long as we could, and tried to find a nurse to ask about her condition, but there was not anyone anywhere, it seemed awful.

I was very apprehensive and at 11 pm received a phone call saying that Gracie had died, and would I fetch her things in the morning. Again, Sally helped me, and even volunteered to identify the body. Then of course there had to be an inquest, so we both had to go to court.

So then there was another funeral to arrange, solicitors to visit, and arranging the selling of the house, and the clearing of the contents. The house had in fact been left to the Church, but all the contents to me. So that meant a lot of work sorting out the rubbish and carting it to the dump. Luckily Sally was using the dormobile at the time, and Chris came over to help with carrying old washing machines etc.. Loads of books and papers, all to be looked through, because I found lots of money in odd places, old jewellery etc.

She had some good old furniture and china which she had inherited, so I told her nephews they could have what they wanted, for which they never really thanked me. They did come to the funeral though with their mother, who is my cousin, and she thanked me, but that was the last I heard of them.

Shirley and Barry Powell came over from New Zealand, and stayed with me, on and off, until just before Christmas, visiting relations and friends. I had several outings with them during the summer, so was not lonely at all. They loved my church, and always came with me, so I enjoyed their stay though rather tiring. Photo 266 is of Shirley and Barry taken in my back garden on one of their visits.

1985

Winnie Cummings was getting older and older, and more and more helpless, until Chris, with the home help sorted her out, sold her bungalow for her, and eventually found a nice rest home where she was quite happy, with her own room and television which she enjoyed. Chris took me down to see her during Wimbledon Fortnight and she was quite normal.

Dorry Atwell (Claude’s widow) died during this year in Newcastle-upon-Tyne.

1986

Winnie eventually became ill in 1986 and died just before her 91st birthday on 19th January. So again there was another funeral, in Hampshire this time, and her good friend Sue Dove entertained us afterwards, before the long journey home. Since then Sue Dove has died so the money that Jack had insisted she should have for her kindnesses in the past did not help her very much did it. . I cannot recall much else about that year, although the worst thing that happened during this lonely part of my life, was David leaving Elizabeth, a terrible shock, but somehow you adjust and get used to such happenings. He has now married again and Liz works as a medical secretary. Photo 267 is an earlier picture of them when they were still a happy family, Photo 268 is of Peter and Anne taken when they were about the age when David left home

1987

1987 was Chris and Shirley’s 25th Wedding Anniversary year which was on the 24th february. They celebrated their Silver Wedding with a party at their house with many family and friends, including Bobby and myself. Photo 269 is of Chris and Shirley cutting their Anniversary cake on that occasion

1988

I do not recall much about the early part of ’88 but there were two lovely events in October. First of all Sally and Clive had a big party at their house for any relations who could come to meet each other. Many of the younger generation had probably not even met some of their older relations, even the older ones only met rarely, usually at a wedding or a funeral, so it was a lovely occasion for all concerned. There are many pictures of this occasion and photos (270/275) are just a few of them.

The Second lovely event in October, which occurred right after the party, was that Clive paid for a delightful few days holiday in Shanklin for me and his Aunt Phyllis. This was a birthday treat for us both, as my 81st birthday was on the 17th October and Phyl’s 76th on the 22nd, while we were away. I think we saw most of the Island by car, parts of which I had never seen before, in spite of my regular visits in the past. There was a quick visit to Bembridge, and the “Crab and Lobster”, much altered, to remind us of old times. Photo 276 of Sally, Phyllis and I at the miniature village at Godshill is a happy reminder of our visit.

1989

In March ’89 Shirley’s father died and she flew out to Sarawak in a rush and all on her own (they could not really afford the fare for Chris to go as well) to attend the funeral. Quite an ordeal for her really.

On the 17th June ’89 Nigel and Margaret Powell’s daughter Karen got married to Thomas Mckenna in Guildford. Clive and Sally took me, picking up Liz on the way, and they had a wonderful reception at The Lakeside, Frimley which lasted from about 1.00pm until nearly midnight and many of the family attended. Photos (277/278) are two of the wedding pictures.

1990

By this time I found it more and more difficult to walk, which ended in me having several falls, mostly down the hill. On Good Friday 1990, although Liz had met me from church, turning from the footpath into our road, I somehow crashed over and cut my eyebrow quite badly. I stuck a plaster over it but Sally carted me to Tankerton hospital, where there was a casualty dept at that time. Then Dr. Hunt cleverly put four stitches in, and I have no scar visible. That was my 11th fall.

On the 8th July ’90 Nigel and Margaret decided to have a family gathering at their house with a barbecue in the garden in the afternoon and lasting late into the evening. Photo 279 shows Margaret dishing out the drinks with two of Graham’s youngsters in the picture and Photo 280 is probably the last picture I have of Bobby. She looks happy enough but by this time she barely knew who people were, although she did seem to know me alright.

1991

In 1991 I had my 12th fall, which was really awful. I was spending the May Bank Holiday with Sally and Clive, and coming back from a short walk, I missed their outer step and crashed onto the door, splitting my head open. I bled all over my clothes, and was rushed to Canterbury Hospital by ambulance where I had 14 stitches, across my forehead, and along my hairline, what a mess. Sally holding my hand all the time, and young Chris and Jon sitting watching, some performance. I healed very quickly, but unfortunately developed Cellulitis in my leg, so was kept in three weeks. This fall made me very nervous, as I did not want a 13th. So Sally always took me shopping or to the doctor etc. and hung on to me.

1992

In 1992 I had an uncomfortable prolapse which ended in a hysterectomy in April, which was no trouble luckily, and I was pushed out of hospital after six days. While recuperating at Sally’s, Nick did some work on my house, painting outside, cutting the grass, and eventually putting in three new panels to the fence, which next door’s dog had destroyed.

It was at about this time that I started to write these memoirs, mainly to give me something to keep my brain occupied during the long periods of inactivity. I actually started writing the war years first and it was the family who jokingly called it “Edie’s War”. It was after this that I was persuaded to expand the whole thing into it’s present form.

Anyway after returning home full of aches and pains the doctor decided, after blood tests, that I had polymyalgia rheumatica, which is basically inflammation of the muscles. So I was put on steroids, which take the stiffness away, but does not cure, and there are a lot of side effects causing me to be practically housebound. I was sleeping downstairs by then, so bought a new single bed, and a new carpet, which all look very nice.

Jon, while he was unemployed, redecorated our bedroom upstairs, which had never been done since we moved down here. Then he took on the garden, and made a lot of improvements, but he then got a job in the bowling alley, so I decided I must find a new gardener.

I had Jane to do my work once a fortnight, but she was so quick that it was a job to fill two hours.

Paul had bought a house in Maidstone during 1991 and finally left home and moved in during the summer of ’92 after he and Chris had spent nearly a year altering and decorating it. Photo 281 is of Paul, the proud owner of number 6 Pope Street, Maidstone and Photo 282 is of him at the table in his kitchen/diner.

On the 8th October ’92 Bobby died in an old peoples home with a stroke. Nigel and Margaret had put her in this home because she had become so very senile and needed watching all the time. Her funeral on the 15th October at Beddington was a lovely family affair. All her five grandchildren were there, including Nigel’s married daughter Karen who brought her baby. Graham’s daughter Angela read the lesson. Bobby was buried in the same grave as her husband Eric at Beddington cemetery and we all had tea and refreshments together so could meet old friends and relations at a nearby pub, which Nigel and Margaret had managed to arrange as they were so far from their home at Guildford.

Chris and Shirley went to Sarawak for Christmas ’92 returning early in the New Year.

1993

Clive thankfully started working locally and was quite busy, and Sally was hoping to get a job.

Nick became engaged to Miranda Harvey, due to get married in April, they had a nice flat in Herne Bay at that time. Anthony was sharing a flat with a friend, so there were only two boys at home then.

I had to give up going to church regularly, so life became just one long succession of days without end. But David Simms still brings me communion once a fortnight. I managed to go to church one evening to hear the 2nd part of the Messiah, sung by an augmented choir for charity, which was a nice change.

Jane recommended a gardener to me, and he has been doing wonders to the garden ever since. I was, and still am, so pleased about that because it gives me something pleasant to look at, and maybe sit out, if the dogs next door do not spoil everything by barking all the time.

Nick and Miranda’s wedding on the 3rd April 1993 was very jolly, and they had a wonderful honeymoon in Florence. Photo 283 is of the happy couple and Photo 284 is of the full gathering taken at the reception in Sally and Clive’s garden.

I was hoping that once I came off steroids I would not be so house bound, and would be able to get to church more regularly again, although I had been once or twice in the evening. But I did not seem to be safe walking alone, which was a great drawback. I was longing to do some light gardening.

To add to my troubles, in May I bruised my rib cage by leaning over the arm of my chair, causing more agony. This lasted for three weeks but eventually went. Having rested such a lot during this period, my arthritic knee became very stiff and painful, so of course I was not able to go shopping with Sally.

In June I luckily had several visitors. Liz and Anne, Chris and Shirley and Paul all came on different days, and Audrey and family came and had a picnic in the garden one Sunday afternoon, which happened to be fine. Then I had my annual visit from Mr Orr, who visits the pensioners of Lloyds Bank to check on them. He had been very ill and on the same steroids as me, only more of them.

Early in July I was taken to church by Brenda Martin-Davis to hear the Brahms Requiem.

On the 5th July Barry Powell, who was over on a visit from New Zealand, came to stay for a week. On the Saturday after he came he took me in the car he had borrowed from a friend down to Chris and Shirley’s for the afternoon. Neither of us was sure of the way but luckily I recognised the turnings and found their road, but we had forgotten the number of the house and so whizzed right past, even though Chris was standing outside, turned round with Chris waving for us to stop. We had a luscious high tea with them and then on coming home we took the wrong turning and found ourselves on a motorway going back towards Maidstone. Eventually we made it and found the right road home. Barry hates motorways.

Barry also took me to Hernhill, which I love, and a roundabout tour of Seasalter where we sat by the sea in the rain, in the car though.

At the end of July, Liz and Anne came to stay for five days and they did a lot of walking. Liz had one bathe, but it was not very warm.

On the 3rd August Diane and Ian Roskilly paid me a visit and Chris also popped in during that day. Diane and Ian had done most of the hard work involved in tracing the Roskilly family tree and they brought me some of the paperwork they had accumulated for me to see, as well as a lot of the photographs concerning the family that they had collected – many of them from me. One particular picture I found most interesting was of the village of Roskilly that they had taken when they visited that part of Cornwall – see Photo 285.

At the end of August Liz and Anne came again for another five days and it was a bit warmer then. We spent Bank Holiday with them at Sally and Clive’s and Chris and Shirley also came for the day. The weather was lovely that day thankfully.

On the 5th September the Vicar took his last service before leaving for Bradford Cathedral. Unfortunately I could not go but went to dinner at Sally and Clive’s where Phyllis, Clive’s Aunt from the I.O.W., had come to stay for a week.

On the 6th Chris came down each day for three days to put a rail up my stairs to help me walk up and down, a marvellous affair. Phyllis also came in for two afternoons, while Sally went to her job of minding two children and Audrey and Sheila also came for a picnic lunch, so I had plenty of visitors that week.

Following that week I seemed to be suffering in silence, with the only visitors I expected being a workman, to mend my broken doorbell, Dennis, who cuts my hair and, when I could get hold of the gas board, a man to come and explain to me how to use the new programmer that was fitted to my boiler in the kitchen, which I could hardly understand and barely see anyway.

Still I should not complain about being lonely, for when I think about Phyllis I realise how much better off than her I am. She not only has Parkinson’s disease and lives all alone in a big house in Wroxall on the Isle of Wight but unlike me has no children to help her.

At last the gas man came, at 6.30 in the evening, to demonstrate how to use my programmer, it was as clear as mud to me but it came on alright but the radiators did not get hot, so I had to ask him to come again to see what was wrong. It was getting colder at that time of the year I so wanted to get it right for the winter. Still nobody had been to mend the doorbell and as I could not hear the knocker, life seemed rather difficult at that time.

Clive and Sally bought me a tapestry kit from a shop in Lewes, Sussex which they had visited on the way back from taking Phyllis to her cousin in Worthing where she usually stays for a few days before going back to the I.O.W. I was so thankful for that as I found I had so little to do as the writing of my life story was more or less completed.