From daily realities
Forging a life together
‘til nature plays its last trick.
I collect Christmas decorations. Every decoration I put on my tree is a memory of a place, experience or of a person. The ones in the collage above remind me of happy times with my Mum – her helping me decorate my first Christmas Tree in my own home, her eye’s sparkling as she celebrated Christmases with her beloved grandchildren. The little ice cube snowman is one of my favourites. I bought it during what turned out to be our last ever shopping trip – bitter sweet memories.
“The Advent Calendar of Christmas Memories (ACCM) allows you to share your family’s holiday history twenty-four different ways during December! Learn more at http://adventcalendar.geneabloggers.com.”
A victory from long ago, when a motley collection of teachers (including my dad) called The Pedagogues were the unlikely winners of a darts league. Even more unlikely was my mum ‘having a go’ during the victory celebration and hitting the bull’s eye.
This is my Grandma, her three sisters and one of her brothers. I don’t know when it was taken but as they look so young I’d guess it was just before or near the beginning of the war. The three sisters never married, they lost their sweethearts in the war but my children and I make sure none of them are forgotten. This theme could easily apply to nearly all the people in my Family History Gallery.
I’ve been blogging for just over a year now, treading a fine line between sharing my thoughts, not invading my children’s privacy and keeping work and home life separate – not an easy balancing act as you must know. I’ve been told I should update my about page so I’ve put together this gallery to add to it.
I don’t usually take part in the Daily Prompts, but Tuesday’s ‘Say Your Name’ prompt caught my attention – perhaps because today is my birthday.
I was named Marie, after my maternal grandma who was called Mary but known as Mamie to everyone. My Dad trained as a French teacher, and lived in France for a time after he graduated so I was given the French version of the name. When I was growing up I was very grateful for that little twist because to our ears (my friends and myself) Mary was both old-fashioned and holy, and very unfashionable even in an all girls convent school. I secretly preferred Maria, it sounded much more beautiful and glamorous to me, but for some reason it never entered my head to change it. I guess my grandma felt the same about the name Mary because she did change hers.
I’m proud to have been named after Mamie. She was born in 1904 and started work in the local thread mills around the time the First World War began. She got married when she was 30 which was considered late in those days, presumably because so many young men had been killed in the war. Her three sisters never married. In the run up to the Second World War she had two beautiful daughters. During the war she ended up working in a munitions factory whilst my Grandpa Charlie was in the ARP. Three years after the war ended she was widowed. She struggled to cope with her loss but had to ‘pull herself together for the sake of the girls’, taking three jobs to make ends meet. When her mother died she took on the mantel of matriarch. That is how I remember her, as the focal point of the family, her house was constantly full of people. To me she always seemed to be laughing and had an endless supply of treats for my brother and me. Sadly, she died when I was only six, a legacy of her war work in the munitions factory.
Another phonoegraphy challenge this week. We had a late lunch at Jakes in Harrogate yesterday after a flying visit to see my father on his 78th birthday. This is all that was left of my Tomato and Mozzarella Ciabatta. Again it was taken with my Nokia N8-00 but a little boring so I have used one of my favourite frames to liven it up a bit.