My Beloved Mum

I heard from Richard this morning that our beloved Mum died very peacefully overnight, in bed at Yoakley House. 

Mum did amazingly well to make it to nearly 90. She was born in 1929 in Brussels, to Dutch parents, and had one older brother Jan. As my grandfather, her father, worked for Philips, they moved around, hence Mum spent her childhood in Norway where she and Jan used to ski to school. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

They were then due to move to Blackburn, Lancashire, and managed to catch one of the last planes from Norway to the UK, arriving just in time the week before WWII broke out. Mum always said the upside was that the Norwegian nanny wasn't able to accompany them in the end, but her bike had been sent ahead, so Mum had use of that during the war.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Mum had a good time at school and ended up going to London University where she met Dad, got married and then the three of us came along. Jan, by contrast, was much bullied in a Scottish boarding school, and ended his years as a very Dutch old man back in Holland.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Too much to say for Mum's next many decades, except that she was a working Mum, which I always admired her for, and which probably instilled my spirit of independence into me. She was head of the psychology department at Queen Mary's Hospital, Carshalton, when she retired, and I remember going with her many times into work, giving me my first exposure to young adults with Down's Syndrome, as well as many hours to be spent 'playing' with Mum's little coloured psychological testing blocks, both in her office and on our kitchen table or floor. I hope I passed whatever test she was probably giving me at the time.

Here we are together when I was just a small blonde thing..

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Mum loved her cat, Topsy, despite his three legs, and spending time in our garden after work. I was envious, when I got a job, of her previous working hours, 9.30am-5pm with a full lunch hour in the middle. So she was home by 5.45pm every night, plenty of time to weed, play Scrabble and, after a dinner often made by Dad, stroke the cat with a coffee and a chunk of Yorkie bar or a bag of crisps from the sweetie drawer.

One very fond memory is our trip to Morocco, which was part of my first sabbatical from Added Value. Mum was game for everything, from eating at the stalls in the central square, to watching the snake charmers, and spotting the storks in their high nests above Marrakech. She even came home with the obligatory carpet, from the Berber villages in the Atlas mountains..

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

We were also hugely privileged that Mum was able to live with us for over 6 years, and I will treasure the memory of her face lighting up every time I popped into her room. I'd ask 'how are you, Mum?' and she would unfailingly reply 'all the better for seeing you'. We used to watch Pointless together and I'd tell her off for feeding the dog and cat from her dinner tray – not that this ever stopped her doing it. Mojo has loved a yoghurt pot ever since..

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

It all feels rather numbing at this point. Even when you know something is coming, it's still desperately sad when it does. I'm will be eternally glad that Hawksey & I went to Yoakley on Sunday and were able to see Mum react to our voices, and for me to be able to moisturise her hands and face, brush her hair and hold her hand as we sat by her bed.

Now the inevitable stage of letting people know and planning the funeral begin.

But for now, much love to my wonderful Mum – October 1929 – May 2019.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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