tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20632029143019873352011-11-05T16:36:28.679ZNotes for an autobiographyJudithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07056868850692279739noreply@blogger.comBlogger341100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2063202914301987335.post-33142287672950316012008-10-11T08:46:00.000+01:002009-01-06T18:41:54.478Z

Before settling down to full time study again, there was a long summer vacation ahead of me, and I was about to take my first trip abroad. There were no school holidays abroad during the war of course, or student exchanges, but I did have a pen friend in France, which had been arranged for me while I was in school. I had now received an invitation to go and stay with her, and so it was arranged

Judithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07056868850692279739noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2063202914301987335.post-3570118139109238882008-10-11T08:34:00.001+01:002008-10-11T08:40:38.016+01:00

With my A levels in English and French, and the results I achieved at the end of this year in Spanish and Latin, I was successful in gaining exemption from the whole first year of Intermediate studies for an arts degree, and could start at the LSE (when I eventually got a place) at the beginning of the two-year Sociology course. Incidentally, I don't believe I could have passed the Latin set book

Judithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07056868850692279739noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2063202914301987335.post-4043732472051104772008-10-10T16:30:00.006+01:002008-10-11T08:38:19.762+01:00

During the summer that I worked as a medical secretary at Worcester's Ronkswood Hospital, it must have been made clear to us that I would not get a place at the London School of Economics in 1946 either - still too many returning service personnel taking up the places. So another plan for another year was needed. We decided that I should attempt to advance my further education anyway. A Sociology

Judithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07056868850692279739noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2063202914301987335.post-53019162959466196512008-10-10T14:25:00.005+01:002009-05-04T17:40:51.778+01:00

The war in Europe ended in May 1945, and in July I left school for the last time, aged 17, with a good bunch of A levels (Higher School Certificate in those days), which would enable me to go to university. My parents had come to the school when I was 16 to consult with the staff and me about my future. My big strength was languages - A levels in English, French and Spanish - but in those days, I

Judithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07056868850692279739noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2063202914301987335.post-26468469531535763492008-10-07T08:21:00.019+01:002008-10-10T12:19:42.152+01:00

I do not think I can do better, while attempting to gather my thoughts and resume my narrative here, than to post a piece I wrote in honour of my father. It has been in draft for a long time, as I could not decide where best to place it in my lifestory. But here I am, uncertain about how to go forward, and here he is as always, to give me the support I need.[Here he is in a rare formal pose -

Judithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07056868850692279739noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2063202914301987335.post-80028776122203581602008-09-14T19:16:00.004+01:002008-09-14T19:29:44.852+01:00

I am ashamed of having neglected this blog for so long - I seem to have pretty much gone to sleep on it! I got deeply involved, just over a year ago, in researching my late husband's family history for my sons, and that took my attention away from every other project I have on hand. I am coming to the end of that now, and do hope to start writing my life story again soon, though I am afraid it

Judithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07056868850692279739noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2063202914301987335.post-16124475293653898732007-12-11T18:00:00.000Z2008-01-02T20:46:23.581Z

I am posting a biographical slideshow here in order to offer something to those of you who pop back to see if I'm still asleep! I do plan to get back to the life story one day, but somehow there always seems to be something else more pressing to get on with.

Judithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07056868850692279739noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2063202914301987335.post-50462883812686350872007-07-25T15:00:00.001+01:002008-10-07T08:08:19.652+01:00

We had a good healthy diet on the whole, as we produced our own fresh fruit and vegetables, as well as eggs. My mother taught herself to look after hens, and then added geese to the flock as well, which meant we sometimes had a goose for our Christmas dinner - a richer meat than turkey. I remember that the feeding of the hens and geese required the saving of all food waste to be boiled up as '

Judithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07056868850692279739noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2063202914301987335.post-16769827358409136462007-07-25T13:24:00.001+01:002008-10-07T08:05:36.683+01:00

As the years of my senior schooling slipped happily by in Letchworth, I was living an equally happy home life in Worcestershire during the school holidays. Our parents seemed to settle in well to living in the country, and so did my brother and I. Our father was relaxed and at ease again, working on the land, away from the city and the stress of trying to sell cars, and our mother soon set to

Judithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07056868850692279739noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2063202914301987335.post-3951493841235110192007-06-20T16:29:00.000+01:002008-01-23T07:55:23.909Z

The school floodlit on VE nightMy schooling ended as the war ended, in the summer of 1945. The school community celebrated the end of war in Europe in May with a two-day holiday. On the first day there were picnic parties, then later a gigantic bonfire, home-made fireworks, dancing round the blaze with linked arms, and a sing-song, while we waited for midnight and the official moment when peace

Judithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07056868850692279739noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2063202914301987335.post-59079307230529239812007-06-20T08:14:00.000+01:002007-06-20T10:38:30.379+01:00

On the whole the war years made little impact on me. None of my relatives was of an age to join the armed services, and there were no casualities of any sort. As for me, I was cocooned in the country, both at home where we lived in a small country village, and at my boarding school right on the edge of a garden city. There were air raid warnings, however, and bombs fall occasionally in the area.

Judithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07056868850692279739noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2063202914301987335.post-72761070923449089372007-06-10T08:43:00.000+01:002008-01-23T07:43:38.745Z

There is one leisure pursuit – and here the word ‘pursuit’ achieves its full significance – which I have not mentioned so far, sensing that I should wish to devote a whole post to the subject. I am of course referring to boys.The first boy with whom I developed a mutual tendresse was a little younger than me, and I cannot recall what drew us together initially. He was 13 and I must have been

Judithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07056868850692279739noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2063202914301987335.post-86231197253662747262007-06-07T12:31:00.005+01:002011-02-05T15:25:37.885Z

Or: Romance rears its headI was a pretty good at escaping while at school in Letchworth – preferably at night, out of windows and down fire escapes. I don’t mean that I wanted to escape from the school – far from it – but that I wanted to escape from my dormitory for the purpose of unauthorised meetings with boys.I made a trial run at the age of about 13, before I had any real interest in the

Judithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07056868850692279739noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2063202914301987335.post-32467754832364821292007-06-04T16:36:00.001+01:002007-07-06T08:29:41.894+01:00

At boarding school there is a lot of time to be filled outside the classroom. There was homework of course. There was, I think, an obligatory hour of work time each evening (it might have been more in the senior school), but with the assignment system, we planned for ourselves what work we did in that quiet time, and when we would fit the rest of it into our free time. I did not learn any extras,

Judithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07056868850692279739noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2063202914301987335.post-76639705411138712322007-06-03T19:51:00.001+01:002007-09-27T08:02:55.173+01:00

I have a lasting impression that I was exposed to extravagant amounts of fresh air while at St Christopher’s. I suppose it is not uncommon for schools to expand by means of tagging on rooms and buildings wherever there is room in the grounds; however, at St Chris the senior school seemed to have been constructed specifically to oblige everyone to leave the warmth of the building and expose

Judithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07056868850692279739noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2063202914301987335.post-9141407467107662982007-05-30T07:34:00.000+01:002007-09-27T07:55:46.236+01:00

Lyn and Eleanor Harris, Headteachers[Photograph from Reginald Snell's book *]Another ‘progressive’ aspect of St Christopher was a much more free and easy atmosphere than I imagine was the norm in private boarding schools at the time. Staff were called by their first names or nicknames, and I would say that there was a sense of partnership between staff and pupils, rather than a strictly

Judithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07056868850692279739noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2063202914301987335.post-40496589608290305892007-05-27T08:13:00.001+01:002007-05-29T19:35:20.130+01:00

Arundale House, St Christopher School My brother and I did not have very long to explore and enjoy our new territory. Before the end of September, we had to make the journey to our new boarding school, where my brother had already spent two terms. St Christopher School in Letchworth, Hertfordshire, is the school which I really can remember vividly, and which I often revisit in my dreams. It was

Judithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07056868850692279739noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2063202914301987335.post-57870531009195742952007-05-24T18:56:00.000+01:002007-05-26T20:44:34.240+01:00

Emsmore The house my parents found in the tiny Worcestershire village of Alfrick (population 250), was the property of a local farmer, from whom we were able to obtain a 21-year lease. Emsmore was not a particularly attractive house externally, with its stuccoed finish and leaded panes which were quite inappopriate to it’s architecture. It stood at the top of a hill on the road between Alfrick

Judithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07056868850692279739noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2063202914301987335.post-54224519714474481252007-05-24T08:54:00.000+01:002007-05-24T08:52:06.972+01:00

Our arrival in Worcestershire, in July 1939, was a new beginning for my mother and father. In 1938 my Great Aunt Maimie had died, and being a childless widow, as I have mentioned before, her estate passed to her three sisters. My grandmother having pre-deceased her, her portion passed directly to my mother and my Aunt Fay. This must have provided my parents with sufficient financial security to

Judithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07056868850692279739noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2063202914301987335.post-84091758629419070972007-05-17T18:12:00.001+01:002008-12-13T20:20:35.090Z

Jack and Edith, with companion 'Doddy' (left)My father's parents had left Birmingham some time before we arrived there, and gone to live in the village of Tanworth-in-Arden, not far from our previous home in Henley-in-Arden. Sadly, Gampy Jack had died in 1922 when I was only two, and it surprises me to realise that I have a dim memory of him lying on the sofa in our sittingroom, feeling rather

Judithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07056868850692279739noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2063202914301987335.post-40506999427704644742007-05-12T15:39:00.000+01:002007-05-18T14:42:27.192+01:00

Auntie Dith had a granddaughter Gillian, my second cousin, who was about my age, and a welcome companion when we could get together. I would sometimes stay with her in their country home, and I remember long spring and summer days just pottering about the local lanes, all of which, in my memory, seem to have been overhung with lilac trees, whose scent I have loved for the rest of my life. ~~~~~

Judithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07056868850692279739noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2063202914301987335.post-50988836311722589972007-05-11T16:02:00.002+01:002008-12-13T18:54:31.443Z

Sisters : Mamie, Nell (Grandma), Janey, Edith~~~~~ When we moved to Birmingham I began to know some of my relatives a whole lot better, as many of them still lived in that city, in which both sides of my family was rooted. In addition to my grandfather there was an aunt, (my mother's sister); three great aunts, (my maternal grandmother's sisters); and a first cousin of my mother's. There were

Judithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07056868850692279739noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2063202914301987335.post-30803654918224460942007-05-10T16:47:00.000+01:002007-05-12T20:20:54.010+01:00

Me (between arrows) at the Edgbaston High School for Girls 1939 Of course, I had to go to a new school in Birmingham, and a place was found for me at a small school of about 60 boys and girls called The Laurels. It was run run by an elderly cousin of my mother's. Once again the process of learning which I went through proved not to be memorable, with one important exception: my little book of '

Judithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07056868850692279739noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2063202914301987335.post-72286878097989573302007-05-10T15:20:00.000+01:002007-05-12T14:49:39.580+01:00

The tomboy emerges on holidayI remember our three years in Birmingham as a time of great financial stringency, with my parents keeping a cash box with different slots for the different types of necessary expenditure, so that the money saved was there when needed. I suppose we must have been heavily subsidised by my grandfather for a time - indeed, I imagine my grandparents must have helped my

Judithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07056868850692279739noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2063202914301987335.post-90850814718231969732007-05-10T11:37:00.000+01:002007-05-12T15:05:00.043+01:00

No 172 Hamstead Road, BirminghamThe year of 1936 was a dramatic one. The old King George V died in the January, and his eldest son Edward VIII succeeded him. Then came the drama of Edward's relationship with Mrs Simpson, his refusal to reign without her beside him as his wife, and his eventual abdication, leading to his younger brother's reluctant accession to the throne. I remember reading that

Judithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07056868850692279739noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2063202914301987335.post-15315460590401192872007-05-09T14:15:00.000+01:002007-05-12T14:48:08.217+01:00

Age fiveI began by going to a small nursery group just across the road, but I remember no moreof it than walking through the door. My first proper school was in Solihull, within driving distance of Henley-in-Arden where we lived at the time. I have no recollection of the lessons learned there, except the hard lessons of life.There was a disagreeable discipline to mealtimes: no drinks of any sort

Judithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07056868850692279739noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2063202914301987335.post-32691451766821868612007-05-09T14:10:00.000+01:002007-05-12T14:47:33.016+01:00

My earliest memory of formal learning is sitting at a small table in my nursery with my mother, with the coloured wooden letters and numbers which my father had made for me (and which I still have with me now). About the actual lesson I remember little, but I have still on my taste buds the memory of the bread and dripping with which we used to refresh ourselves during the morning, brought

Judithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07056868850692279739noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2063202914301987335.post-38938997331959182422007-05-09T12:36:00.000+01:002007-05-12T14:46:50.202+01:00

1935 and now we both have bikes! Unpleasant experiences? 'Hardly a one' I was going to say; but as I start to think about it, more keep popping into my head, which is only to be expected, for that is life.I remember the physical agony of falling into a huge bed of stinging nettles, as I ran down the hill behind the village in the dark, after celebrating King George V's Silver Jubilee with a

Judithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07056868850692279739noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2063202914301987335.post-62391648815891718642007-05-09T12:00:00.000+01:002007-05-12T14:46:15.811+01:00

In our detached gardenMy memories do not go back to a very early age. Probably my first one is the arrival of my brother when I was three and a half. I remember my father getting me ready to visit my mother and the new baby in the nursing home: I decided that the proper thing to take to a new brother was some of my lead farm animals. My father said he thought we should take some flowers as well,

Judithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07056868850692279739noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2063202914301987335.post-22607419673355899922007-05-08T20:45:00.000+01:002007-05-12T14:45:18.507+01:00

A professional caricature drawn in 1946What have I inherited from my forbears? That takes some thinking about. A formidable nose, for one thing; a tendency to worry unnecessarily, developing into full-blown hypochondria in late middle age; Ekbom's Syndrome (a.k.a. Restless Leg Syndrome), and heart disease. More positively, a capacity for organisation and attention to detail, which made me a

Judithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07056868850692279739noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2063202914301987335.post-52837233917605704602007-05-08T11:55:00.000+01:002007-05-12T14:44:47.507+01:00

Yours trulyBy early 1927 my parents were expecting their first child, and I recently came across a beautiful love letter which my mother wrote to my father one night, when she was already in bed, and he was still in the bathroom. What she was writing about was their joyful anticipation of my arrival, though of course they did not know it was ME at that stage. On 29th November I was born, in a

Judithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07056868850692279739noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2063202914301987335.post-49646074801104016672007-05-07T11:26:00.000+01:002007-05-12T12:04:58.066+01:00

My mother and father in their courting daysMy parents met after the first World War. Throughout the war my father had been interned in Germany, where he had gone at the age of 19 to improve his knowledge of the language. His prison camp was a converted racing stables at Ruhleben, near Berlin, where the 4000 men and boys from all walks of life slept in the horse-boxes. The prisoners succeeded in

Judithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07056868850692279739noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2063202914301987335.post-20382783694515107772007-05-07T10:09:00.000+01:002007-05-12T13:49:30.255+01:00

My mother's mother's mother with her family Both my parents belonged to Birmingham families, solid middle class civically minded citizens of the manufacturing classes. My mother’s family lived in Handsworth and my father’s in Edgbaston. My mother’s father was a master jeweller working for the family firm, as his father and grandfather had done before him. My mother’s mother’s father was a

Judithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07056868850692279739noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2063202914301987335.post-23373998072415382552007-05-06T13:35:00.000+01:002007-06-05T07:27:39.322+01:00

Where should I start my autobiographical memoir? The obvious answer seems to be with the moment of my birth, but I feel that I owe at least something to my forbears, without whom … etc. Besides, in recent years I have spent a good deal of time with them, among photographs and inherited mementos, and recollections shared with my brother, and there are some interesting things to be said about some

Judithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07056868850692279739noreply@blogger.com0