Mum

The Mum of CJ and I would have been 113 years old today had she not died at the age of 93, 20 years ago. 

Flora Edith Irene started her named life by creating a family upset. Not intentionally and in fact she had no hand in the matter as she was only months old at the time. At her Christening her Godmother, Edith, when asked "What do you name this child" answered "Flora Edith Irene" adding her own name in between the family's chosen names of Flora and Irene. Whilst there is absolutely nothing wrong with the name Edith if ever there was a person who didn't fit that name it was our Mum. She just didn't!

Flora (flowers), Irene (peace) Edith (rich gift)

Mum was a lover of peace and nature and eschewed any form of conflict and she was, of course, a rich gift for her parents. 

Mum was born into a reasonably well-off family. However Mum's Father's business was a luxury business and the slump and the war put an end to any hopes Mum had of going to Oxford (which had been her Mother's hope) which, academically, she could have done if her Father could have paid the fees.  

Mum never complained about missing uni. In fact Mum rarely if ever complained about anything and, like most people of her generation living through two world wars, she had plenty about which to complain.

We could learn a lot if we hearkened back to the time of Mum's youth. Yes. There is a huge amount of real poverty in the UK now but the privations of the slump and war were worse than most people now can even believe never mind understand and public financial assistance was not readily available. 

I managed to get this photo with no time to focus,  aim or indeed think as I walked towards Mum and she struck the pose. I had the camera at my side and just pressed the button. That it turned out was well as it did was a miracle. It is one of my favourites amongst the very many photos I took of Mum.

Smoking

In October my brother, CJ, and I went to the 1950s Museum in Denbigh, North Wales. It is a fascinating place and, for those of a certain age, it evokes many memories and, for those who are younger, it doubtless causes differing degrees of disbelief. I hope to write a few posts on the museum but this one is specifically on smoking and the, now, unbelievably different attitude to smoking's acceptability in every aspect of life. Who, for example, could ever believe that this advert might actually produce positive results:

I'm sure some of these pictures will bring back memories for some of my older UK readers:

Capstan Full Strength, Senior Service and Players were preferred by men and were rarely (if ever) sullied by a filter tip (I'm pretty confident in saying).

Balkan Sobranie were favoured by people who wished to make a statement (I'm not quite sure which statement) and people who just loved the 'different' taste. My Grandmother smoked Woodbine from pre-teen years (illicitly) until she died at the age of 93. My special treat for her on occasion was to bring in a box of Sobranie.

I had completely forgotten about Park Drive but that was the cigarette that my mother smoked until she gave up - possibly in her 40s. However until she died (again at the age of 93 like her Mother) she always craved a cigarette after dinner.

Pipe tobacco. My Dad smoked Condor (or occasionally St Bruno) all his life (he died at 94). My Uncle smoked the pipe tobacco Cut Golden Bar or Gold Block until he gave up some time before he died (as his Mother and Sister had done at 93).

I gave up cigarettes in May 1967 just having bought a box of 50 Piccadilly Tipped and smoked 3 of them. I threw them across the office declaring I would never smoke another cigarette as long as I lived. The office junior scrabbled round picking them all up and made off with them after asking if he could have them before I changed my mind. I have never smoked a cigarette since.

RIP Dad

Morris Thompson Edwards

Flora Edwards

Where does time go? Where do people go? On this day 15 years ago (and it seems like such a short time) the mother of CJ and me died at the age of 93 with all her faculties. It was her decision to, as she believed, join her husband and many of her friends.

Today the father of a very close friend died. A few days ago a friend in New Zealand died. All during one's life people die but as one gets older it is those of the same age who start dying and somehow this brings one's mortality to one's notice quite forcibly.

This first photo was taken in the early 1930s by my Dad. Mum would have been in her 20s.

I have blogged this photo before. I took it perhaps over half a century ago and it's a photos of which I've always been quite proud.

This photo was taken in the caravan we had towed up to Scotland in about 1960 and somehow the dress doesn't reflect the fact that the caravan was in a waterlogged caravan site at the foot of Ben Nevis. Mum hiked (tramped) and camped all over the English Lake District and Wales but somehow always seemed to be beautifully turned out.

This photos was taken on the same caravanning holiday in Killin. I've spared CJ and me the embarrassment of our photos being shown.

How things have changed.

Thankful Thursday

I've been taking photos since before ever so long ago.  Obviously in The Olden Days I took them in black and white (for you youngsters that's 'without colours').  Sometimes I used B&W even after colour had become my norm.  Some people like Andrea use no colour most of all the time.  Strange but true.  She has a Bronica ("bow, bow ye lower middle classes...").  I never did but this one still turned out to be square so I obviously had some camera or other which took square photos.  We may never know which one it was.  This was my Mum holding a couple of sparklers.  I've always been rather secretly pleased with it.  Today I am coming out and turning secret into no longer secret.

Today I am thankful for Dad who encouraged me to take photographs from a very early age and who helped me enormously in every way.

A Funny Afternoon

Scriptor Senex aka CJ posted recently on some of our parents’ sayings.  Well another one of Mum’s was funny peculiar not funny ha ha or funny ha ha not funny peculiar.  So when I go out this evening I might say to my hosts that I’ve had a funny afternoon and then automatically qualify it with ‘funny peculiar not funny ha ha’.   So what was so funny about it?

After lunch I sat down and ordered a FuelSure Diesel Misfuelling Prevention Fuel Filler Cap.  I did that notwithstanding that I will NEVER make that mistake again.   Yeah.  Right.  Me and the other 150,000 plus drivers who misfuel each year in the UK alone – 1 every 3.5 mins.  I must buy Spesh one.  Not because she’ll ever need it but because it’s bright pink!  Don’t worry it’ll be hidden under the filler flap on my jet black car!

Then the mail came.  The first envelope I opened was a premium bond payout (a government saving/lottery scheme) which just about paid for the new filler cap.  So that was good.  The I opened one from Amex (on the right) about my credit card security enclosing a security key fob and security labels for some of my possessions.  If only life could be made stress-free that easily.

Then came a letter from the telephone company.  It’s always good to know that prices are increasing.  Hmm.  But if they can help me reduce it below what I’m paying now why bother increasing it in the first place?  Ah.  What they want me to do is pay a year in advance by direct debit from my bank account (instead of the quarterly billing and monthly DD which is standard now.) Something tells me that the amount I’ll lose in interest if I invested that money may just about equal the saving they are offering me.

Ah well they gave me something to blog about.  As if I hadn’t already got dozens of things sitting waiting.  I hope that your afternoon is a good one.

Flora Edwards: 1909 to 2002

Mum was born 100 years ago today. Flora Edwards née Body died at the age of 93 on 15 March 2002. Forty years earlier we had been on holiday in Scotland: it rained a lot when we holidayed because we did so amongst hills and mountains and in August during, of course, the school holidays. August was also the wettest month of the summer. As readers know photography was a family pastime and rarely were we to be seen without a camera in hand. Which was how I managed to get this photo. I had no time to focus, properly aim or indeed think as I walked towards Mum and she struck the pose. I had the camera at my side and just pressed the button. That I only managed to cut off Mum's feet was a miracle. It is one of my favourites amongst the very many photos I took of Mum.