Flora's LifeMy mother was born in November 1932 in Maidstone - her mother ran an infant school and her father was the headmaster of a small private school, The Elms on London Road, where relatives stayed or called in regularly. He was a congenial, rotund gentleman who would have enchanted Charles Dickens, she was a doting young mother whose daughter was the apple of her eye. Mum lived, learned and was loved in an English idyll of Mr Chips and Upstairs Downstairs, with friendly housemaids, prankster school boys, eccentric teachers and characterful cats occupying her days. Even though the war raged overhead, a very British resolve kept the school open throughout. Here is one recollection she wrote later in life: "I share with many others the memories of the skies, high, wide and blue, crisscrossed with vapour trails, the sounds and sights of dogfights overhead. At the end of the day in a large garden, I would sit among the branches of two cedar trees and watch until the Spitfire and Hurricane became dots on the horizon and disappeared. How I loved those aeroplanes and admired the men who flew them. How pleased I was to know that another had come home safely. They were my great heroes and my bedroom was festooned with Spitfire and Hurricane pictures. One summer afternoon a worried parent telephoned to enquire if her son had left for home. I rushed down to the bicycle sheds to check and saw an aeroplane coming in low. Assuming it to be one of ours I waved greetings as we always did. Imagine my anger and surprise when I realised that it was an enemy plane. It dived lower and I was aware of a sound - like whipping - in the grass beside the path and the rattle of machine-gun fire. I was being strafed. Moments later a sweeping Spitfire powered overhead. I felt it was defending me personally. From this close brush with death I was able to make a healthy profit by collecting and selling cartridges to eager purchasers amongst my father’s pupils. She became an ardent fan of that most British of games: cricket, in her teens taking every chance to watch Kent play. This bucolic world came to an end when her mother died in 1950, when my mother was 17. She was forced to leave home when her father married his third wife, with whom mum had a difficult relationship. A steady influence was to come along in the form of RAF’s finest recruit John Jenner, known as Ian to everyone. They were married in 1958 and the next year, my brother David was born. Service life offered mum a sense of stability, but being abroad did not suit her and by the time I was 5 mum was looking to stay based in England. She recalls how the year they drove back from a long posting in Germany, they stopped by her beloved Elms and watched it being pulled down. By the time her baby girl, Elizabeth, was born in Norfolk, mum had categorically set out her political stall and was a stalwart campaigner against the European Union and what she saw as the erosion of British tradition and independence. At the same time, she resurrected her academic prowess through teaching adult literacy, including teaching one old and illiterate Norfolk soul who went on to write his life story. When her father died in 1985, we took over living at Max Gate, Hurst Green taking mum closer to her beloved Kent. These were her happiest years for a long while but years of overseas travel had made it hard for my father and mother to live together and dad decided to move to Australia. While on a trip over there he met Diane, and, after a short time, asked my mother for a divorce. While it was against my mother’s natural inclination she agreed to an amical split. Here is what my step mother, Diane, has to say: Before I came to England in 1999 Flora wrote me a very special and kind letter, which was the beginning of an unusual but happy, friendly and understanding relationship between us. It was because of Flora’s understanding and acceptance of our situation that I always felt so happy and comfortable at family occasions. When I saw Flora in June I was so sad to see how much her illness has progressed but I was impressed with her attitude and strength of character. Flora I will really miss those happy and amusing visits. Farewell and rest in peace.> A catastrophic blow was visited upon my mother again in 2010 when my brother David, mum’s first born, died. She never recovered from this trauma and there followed years of depression and anxiety, relieved only by prayer, companionship, and by keeping busy. Her long-time companion Bill Peters, was able to be a constant comfort to her and gave her much needed support and friendship through these very hard times for her. Failing health made it impossible keep Max Gate and her heavy heart at having to sell was only lightened by the warm welcome she got in her new home here in Bexhill. The cancer that finally took her life was borne with stoic resolve, finally being laid low by an all-consuming fatigue that prevented her visiting friends, church events and doing her charity work. She was happiest when listening to the Daily Service on what she still called 'the wireless' and watching Dad’s Army at every opportunity. Mum had spent her last months getting her affairs in order, so it would be simpler for us that are left, even taking the opportunity to write some words to be read out today. This is what she wanted to say: I’ve often wondered why more people don’t leave little notes on these occasions. It seems such a satisfying thing to do. First of all thank you all for coming here, I can only trust it is a fine day. I would not wish that any morbid element is felt. Sadness yes, briefly, but please not morbid. After all death, like taxes, is the only certainty in life and really the most natural thing in life. It’s the only way to make room for new arrivals at the wicket of life’s innings. But more important life is stronger than death, light stronger than darkness and love stronger than hate. Physical life is a segment of the circle of eternity and nature hate waste. She is forever renewing and recreating life. Somehow, somewhere, life continues. I’m so grateful for what I’ve been blessed with: dear friends, good parents (although the loss of my mother when she was young often left a gap in my life), health and joy in being English. It defies the rational basis of life that those of us fortunate enough to have matured and live long enough to have delighted in such glories, should have been unfairly privileged. We know so little but we know that basically life is a gift to enjoy and it belongs to all. So let us look to the other people coming into life and leave the rest in the hands of our Christian God, who were urged to trust. Special Love to David, Colin and Elizabeth and the grandchildren, Alice, Isobel, Olivia and Jessica. Thank you all - I’ve loved so many people can’t believe that stops. God bless, God bless. Flora By any measure mum’s was a life well spent in pursuing what she saw as true, honourable and correct. God Bless you mum. |