THE EULOGY I would like to thank you all for coming here today to celebrate the life of our Mum, Joan Ethel Brooks, a lady who, whether you knew her as Mum, Nan, Sister, Aunt, or simply friend, you would have recognised as a strong, reliable and trustworthy lady: a kind, lovely, quiet and proud lady. Someone who you could - and many did - turn to for help, comfort and support which she gave without reservation. She was born into a very different world to the one she has now left. Bob will have shared some of the same experiences as she did, but for the rest of us perhaps it is surprising to realise some of the things that happened during her life. This was a time when the world was changing dramatically and major events in history took place - things that we take so much for granted. Women over the age of 21 were given the vote in 1928 Alexander Fleming discovered penicillin Edward VIII became King but abdicated Television and telephones coming into the home “Peace for our time” Creation of the National Health Service She was an ordinary girl, born into an East End family, the eldest of four children, and in 1939 she became responsible for her brothers Bob and Den and another little boy – Phillip – whose Mum asked if he could go with the Keenes kids when they were evacuated at the start of the war. It’s hard to imagine what that meant now, taken away from home, dropped off at a station in the country, first time away from home and waiting to be picked by strangers who you would live with instead of being at home. And they waited on the platform, and waited until they were the only ones left because they wanted to stick together. Despite that, she talked about that time often with affection and a laugh. She told me one story of when she was out in the fields, perhaps you were with her Bob, and a German plane came down. She remembered the crash and she remembered the crew in the cockpit, she talked about them calling for their parents, they weren’t that much older than she was, and as she told me that she became quite emotional. She told other happier stories about that time in Blewbury as well: not being allowed to use the front door at The Gables, having a Housekeeper, on parade to say “Goodnight” to the Major, the pig slurry incident and, of course, the Ghost! Glen and Pauline took her back there a few years ago and they said that she was so excited to be back there, remembering things that we will now never know about. She left school at 15 and went to work, she was a self taught machinist and became a Finish Dressmaker”, making the sample dresses for the catwalk models that were shown to buyers, she made a beautiful evening gown that you can see in one of the photographs at home as well as bridesmaids dresses for friends’ weddings much later on. She loved going to concerts at the Royal Albert Hall and it was a pleasure taking her and Dad to Filmharmonica there each year through the 1970s. After a few years, she met and in 1950 married Les – a bit of a character who we remember with great affection and a smile. Fresh out of the RAF, Les was a confident and as far as Mum’s dad was concerned, a bit too brash and loud. As different from Mum as you could imagine, but he got lucky and won Grandad over, and they started life together on the returns money from the wedding reception beer. They were good together, bought a home and then had a family: me first and then Glen. There were some very difficult times for her in the early years: Les’ Mum, Julia, lived with them and that would be a difficult situation for any young family, particularly the young wife who was suddenly responsible for the home and so it proved for Mum, especially when I accidentally discovered my love of tea. They came through that time much stronger and Mum then started on a period when she looked after her Mum and then Dad, offered help and support to neighbours who were going through difficult times themselves and welcomed Gwen and Bill and their family into the home firstly when they returned from Egypt and secondly before they moved over to Seven Kings. Perhaps not so well known, she became an adult literacy teacher and taught a young man to read and write so that he could try for a job and was delighted when he was successful. She knitted so many toys, toilet roll covers and cartoon characters for our first teacher at infants school, Miss Collins who raffled them to raise funds for her Sunshine Homes giving holidays for disabled children; she crocheted a shawl for every new baby in the family. She looked after Dad when he was ill of course; she was strong for all of us at that time. She made our home a loving and safe place. She went shopping every day as we had no car. She did the washing in a twintub every week. We always had clean ironed clothes. We always had a family holiday – Ramsgate and Jaywick – those were good holidays. She hated cooking but always put a beautifully cooked meal on the table and made some cracking apple pies. She hated the idea of flying or going on a ship but went over to Holland on a hovercraft for the one and only foreign holiday that she had with dad, even then she found herself looking after someone, a young Dutch man who was even more scared than she was. She helped us with homework, I remember practising French verbs and vocabulary as homework and then going off to school, looking back across at Mum and asking “Do you think I know it?” and her saying “Of course you do, go on” and that was all I needed, that confidence, that self belief. That’s what she gave: support, confidence and love. I have to say that she had some vices though. Every Christmas she smoked at least one cigarette after dinner, never more than two though, the evening walks in the Ramsgate Chine Gardens and her and Dad “taking a few cuttings” for the garden – a few small bags and a trowel always went into the case when we packed for our holidays and she enjoyed a couple of Snowballs in the Conservative Club on a Saturday night - I did once see Mum and Dad the worse for drink as well. I don’t know if Glen remembers this, but it was a Boxing Day and the next door neighbours, the Smiths, invited them in for a drink in the afternoon. We never found out whether Joey used Vodka instead of lemonade for the Snowball or not and goodness only knows what Dad had but they came home after a couple of hours, went straight to bed; tea was a bit ad hoc that night. When Dad died all too soon, Mum, Glen and Pauline joined forces and moved to Wickford together. That was the start of a very happy and fulfilling period for Mum, a time when she was in her element. She was insistent after her experience about being independent and that worked well but she took immense pleasure in being a central part of their family and helping out in whatever way she could, being a second ‘Mum’ to the boys including babysitting, taking Tim to toddler groups and doing the school run. She volunteered in the local OXFAM shop for 20 years and she had some stories to tell from that period. Although she was much closer to and involved with the three boys she loved her grandchildren equally and was very proud of her family and all her grandchildren. Over the last 10 years or so her sight started to let her down and that affected her ability to do the knitting and sewing she had so loved and unfortunately made the move to Suffolk quite difficult for her and then one night she said she had a pain in her hip, which worsened, but she never really complained, although you could see it in her face. A hip replacement and a lengthy spell in hospital never dampened her spirits: she passed away peacefully. We are very proud of you Mum and always will be. Tony Brooks