Born Busy , livre ebook

Brown Dog Books - Rosemary Mitchell

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194 pages

English

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Reaching her 80th birthday in 2016, Rosemary decided to gather and reflect on journals she had written over the preceding 60 years. The result is Born Busy - a unique insight into her varied and colourful life; from first memories during World War 2, through the highs and lows of early adulthood, marriage and travel, to the challenges and joys of family life, retirement and grandchildren.Throughout the book runs a deep appreciation of the love that ties family and friends, as well as a need to share the things that have been most important in her life; faith, family and friends, and a focus on being creative, positive, and of course, busy!

Sujets

Philosophie et théologie

Memoir

Informations

Publié par	Brown Dog Books
Date de parution	23 novembre 2020
Nombre de lectures	0
EAN13	9781839522222
Langue	English
Poids de l'ouvrage	3 Mo

Informations légales : prix de location à la page 0,0200€. Cette information est donnée uniquement à titre indicatif conformément à la législation en vigueur.

Extrait

First published 2020
Copyright © Rosemary Mitchell 2020
The right of Rosemary Mitchell to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs & Patents Act 1988.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, electrostatic, magnetic tape, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the written permission of the copyright holder.
Published under licence by Brown Dog Books and
The Self-Publishing Partnership, 7 Green Park Station, Bath BA1 1JB
www.selfpublishingpartnership.co.uk

ISBN printed book: 978-1-83952-221-5
ISBN e-book: 978-1-83952-222-2
Cover design by Emma Perfitt
Internal design by Andrew Easton
This book is printed on FSC certified paper
Printed and bound in the UK
A CKNOWLEDGMENTS
I am grateful to have had much help along the way and wish to thank many people, beginning with Lucy, our daughter, who put the idea of memoirs into my head.
Matthew, our son, who saw the magic in my life.
Marian, my sister-in-law and Wendy, a dear friend, both of whom spent hours tirelessly typing documents from my scribbled notes and re-typed others I had produced 30 years ago on my Amstrad computer.
Rosalind Wall, who generously proofread the early documents.
Judy Read, who performed this same task when the manuscript was nearing completion and gave much valuable advice from personal experience of self-publishing.
Karen Francis and members of Surlingham Broad Creative Writers group, with whom I shared creative writing and who helped me to identify my audience.
John Green, who became my willing tutor on the computer, extending my skills as I needed them, and resolving numerous problems.
John Meadows who, whilst really doing carpentry with Geoff, willingly gave help on the computer.
Tina Perfitt, who helped to give my work structure as we planned the programme for the months ahead.
Steve Wall, who creatively inserted Charlotte and David onto our golden wedding photograph to enable me to show the whole family together.
Kevin Carey, Benjamin and Olga, three new friends who have re-inspired me with their conviction that my life story is of interest to more than just the family and friends.
All the dear friends and acquaintances who read topics and made encouraging and useful comments.
Katrina Scala, a mentor who challenged and guided me at various stages in the project.
Staff of The National Centre for Writing, whose wide ranging and friendly nurturing of budding writers gave me much encouragement. I was given a bursary for a ‘free professional read’ by Patsy Trench, who gave me much useful guidance.
Emma Perfitt, who helped to refine the title, worked tirelessly on arranging the huge number of illustrations, and designed the beautiful cover reflecting our love of William Morris.
Most of all Geoff, my husband, whose confidence in me and amazing patience has made this task possible.
I NTRODUCTION
In 2013, our second daughter Lucy suggested I should write memoirs. I had written journals at important times to share with family and friends and I began intermittently assembling some, written over the past 60 years to re-kindle memories, reflecting on the kaleidoscope of experience which has been my life. These I present as they were at the time, with reflections as I see them now in 2020.
In 2016 I reached my 80 th birthday and decided it was a good time to reflect, and I began in earnest.
I began my story relating these events. I then needed to give background to my family and childhood during the Second World War. However, recalling my childhood years presented problems. I have very few early memories, except that my life was a happy one. Talking to my two sisters, both younger than me, I have been able to gather a few examples to share. At age eighteen I met Geoff, my husband, and this was where the story I really wanted to write, begins. It became ‘our story’ and has now become a joint venture. Training as a nurse, midwife and health visitor occupied the next 6 years while we waited for Geoff to complete training as an architect so that we could afford to get married.
We married in 1961 and, following surgery, I was unable to bear children and so we adopted a baby girl of Anglo-African parentage, an unusual thing to do at the time. A year later we adopted a second child, also Anglo-African, which led us to an interest in Africa. We went to live in Ghana for a short time and I relate details of life there.
On our return we adopted twins, and I relate busy family life and the creative activities we embarked upon, including music weekends and courses and children’s camps. When the children left home, I began new activities for my own interest, including teaching English as a foreign language, Toastmasters International ‒ learning confident public speaking ‒ volunteering with the National Association for the Blind in Norfolk, and later arranging group holidays to share with our friends.
At one point I wrote: “We live in an old school house, which had been a 19 th century village school.”
However, in 2018 this situation changed to the past tense. After fifty-six years there, we began a whole new chapter and moved house. This event became paramount during the next few months, pushing memoirs off the priority list. I have decided to begin my story with the celebration of my 80 th birthday and relate the ‘house move’ at the end as an epilogue.
My 80 th birthday? Surely not! I can hardly believe it.
I wonder how many 80-year-olds enjoy such good health. Putting aside my frequent accidents due to a lifelong inability to take care, I am in very good shape; no chronic conditions or need of medication and still blessed with plenty of energy.
We had a leisurely time exploring in West Sussex while looking after Poppy, our daughter Lucy’s dog, and just before my birthday, visited Leith Hill Place, the home of Vaughan Williams‒ a house only recently opened by the National Trust, and manned entirely by a few volunteers.
The usual formalities were not yet in place. No barriers to restrict access to parts of rooms. No prickly pine cones indicating: ‘Please do not sit on this chair, sofa etc.’ Visitors were actually encouraged to relax on sofas to read, and any who wished could play the piano though, sadly, it was badly out of tune.
The house had a comfortable, rather jaded ‘at home’ feel about it. We watched a DVD presentation of the history of the house and family and then went into the attic rooms to hear an audio presentation. This delightfully portrayed the life of Vaughan Williams, with stories by his Nanny and others. Photographs in each room showed the stages of his life as we moved from room to room.
In the spacious kitchen, with stone-flagged floor and high windows, two volunteers were busy making scones and cakes. These were displayed on a central table and guests were invited to take a plate and make their choice. We then made our requests from a selection of teas or juices and a tray with dainty china, jam and cream for scones was prepared. The aroma alone was glorious. No official prices or person at a till. Guests were asked to place a donation in the box labelled ‘donations’. A polite note made suggestions which were all very reasonable, and there was no pressure or supervision. We chose cheese scones and a pot of Earl Grey tea, and the scones were more than two inches high – a meal in themselves, as well as flavoursome. The texture was out of this world. I’ve never tasted scones like it. Going back to thank the cooks, I asked the secret. “Two eggs”, the lady confessed in a conspiratorial voice. I asked for the recipe and have since enjoyed making them with great success for ourselves and for guests.
We sat on canvas chairs overlooking the magnificent view over the Weald toward the South Downs. Such a joy. We returned on another day to celebrate my birthday, and I explained why we had come. The ladies made up a special tray, arranged it on a table at the front of the house and took a photograph for us. Geoff made two watercolour paintings, one of the views and another of the house featuring us at a small table drinking tea.
M ORE D ELIGHTS
Ruth and Margaret, my two sisters, organised an afternoon tea-party in Ruth’s garden to celebrate this special birthday with fourteen guests. When we arrived at the appointed time, a long table laid with bone china was set out under several umbrellas. We sat nearby, sipping wine and chatting till guests arrived and completed the scene. Don, Ruth’s husband, gave a little speech of welcome and we took our places at the table. It all felt delightfully grand. Platters of dainty smoked salmon and cucumber sandwiches with little dishes of watercress soon adorned the table and various teas of our personal choice accompanied them.
As the celebrant, I was given the silver teapot and milk jug and after Don had given thanks we ate and chatted about all manner of things. As we had all shared numerous amusing experiences over many years there was no shortage of reminiscences in conversation. Margaret’s husband Mark and Geoff also made little speeches, and each said some very kind things. I felt honoured and proud. I also felt blessed that my sisters went to all this trouble for me.
Home-made scones with cream and home-made jam followed and we all felt that Ruth and Margaret were rivalling the National Trust with such a spread. I had received a large number of birthday cards, and I received several more, and some lovely gifts. It was a glorious day with wonderful changes in the sky and we remained absorbed in conversation until eight o’clock. A marked drop in temperature broke up the party. I had loved every minute of it and all agreed it had been a memorable occasion.
70 TH B IRTHDAY
I have an album of that party which still comes out and gives pleasure. On that occasion Geoff, Charlotte and Luc