Eulogy: Elizabeth Anne Sumpton
Mummy, mum, mother (my personal favourite), Aunty Betty, Dancing Grandma.
You know as a child not to go poking around in your parents things, but of course you do. I’ve found countless Christmas presents I desired and ones I hoped were for Andrew. These last week’s, Andrew and I have spent lots of time poking around Mothers drawers and laughing at the array of bonkers things you find. 4 travel irons - boxed, 14 pairs of dancing shoes, 9 pairs of spectacles (9 pairs Mother, you could never find them!) and enough bed linen to service a small hospital, all neat, tidy and tremendously comforting.
Mum was born on the eve of the second world war into a large family with Uncles, Aunts, cousins on both sides. She would eventually be the middle of 5 children, brothers and sister also both sides of her. She was small in stature, quiet, she would say ‘a shy child’ who shared a bedroom with her sister and walked her younger brother to school. She was helpful child, hand sewing her own school clothes, visiting older relatives, growing up with friends and family in Selby and latterly Castleford. She had a special connection with her father, even helping him to pass exams to be a shot firer when she was still at school herself, and this special bond she carried throughout her life.
As a young child she suffered from repeated ear infections and before the NHS was founded, the damage to her right eardrum was extensive and her hearing was lost. Later, her children were oblivious to this as she certainly knew what we were getting up to, only finding this out once we had left home. A childhood with its mixture of happiness and sadness, surrounded by family, many stories and tales too many to recount here today, she left education and started working as a comptometer operator at Mason’s in Leeds where a close friend Pamela (who she was still in contact with) and a group of friends went dancing weekly. One day a tall, handsome quantity surveyor (my Dad) asked if they could go dancing on their own – she was thrilled and their courting began. Either side of Dad’s National Service, they enjoyed driving around on his beloved motorbike, mum traveling pillion, visiting Scottish and Channel Islands alike, always with family, attending night classes in millinery, dress making, cake icing, the historical society, even working on an archaeological dig in Castleford. Once married, Dad’s work took them to Richmond in Swaledale. Their beloved Yorkshire Dales, to be visited countless times in the future. A year later, Andrew was born – they were thrilled. A boy amongst many girls in our family. My paternal Grandfather, although thrilled was disappointed he had been born at Darlington General Hospital meaning there would be no Yorkshire Cricket call up! The family became 3.
The following year a change in Dad’s work meant they moved to a family house in Garforth with a large garden and they set about making the soil their own. On a cold, February morning mum was in an ambulance travelling to St James maternity department. Somewhere near Whitkirk roundabout, Horace (Ambulance man) shouted ‘it’s coming’. The driver, more experienced at these things, parked the ambulance and made his way to the door. Mum and I got on with it ourselves, leaving Horace to bundle mother’s knickers into his pocket. I do hope his marriage survived!
The family became 4. Andrew and I spent a loving and supportive childhood in Garforth, there was discipline, but great stability amongst family and friends. Mum, a volunteer parent helper at my junior school, attended school trips in the UK and Europe and was asked to work in a nursery school, Moorleigh in Kippax, that is now a residential home, and sits at the bottom of her road. There she met friends Pam and Sue and in particular Enid, a lifelong close friend (thank you Enid, we couldn’t have got here without you).
When I was 11 Mum and Dad decided to adopt a young child into our secure family. So Amanda 3 years old, frightened, broken, hair falling out, wearing nappies arrived. Mum taught her to read, write, numbers, colours, ride a bike – a pure delight!. We went on many holidays to the Dales in our caravan, Yorkshire coast – especially Filey, messing about on the river near Naburn, she was a joy we were a close family of 5. Unfortunately, the Social services policy of returning children to their family members saw the adoption papers unsigned and only a year later Amanda left us. We heard little of her again. Mum spoke about Amanda only a couple of months ago. In adulthood, I now realise our parents grieved for the loss of a child, my maternal Grandma devastated. Amanda brought joy to our whole family.
We were again a 4 and attention focused on Andrew and I, completing our education and preparing us to leave home at 18, because, as my Dad said ‘It’s the Law!’. We dutifully complied and after we had gone, they downsized to the bungalow in Kippax, neat, tidy, smart move. They changed the house and garden and enjoyed holidays together in the Canary Islands with tours of Singapore, Malaysia, Isreal our endlessly curious parents.
They were planning their first trip to North America when unexpectedly the dreadful news that Dad had died. Mum plunged into grief in her early 50’s, Andrew supporting her that dreadful night. A few days later his brief case full of desk objects and papers, arrived from his employer. We sat on the lounge floor and Andrew pulled out this scrappy bit of card. Inside the black and white photo in your order of service. In his beautiful writing (this has skipped a generation) he had written the following message:
Mum kept this close to her, always.
Break for a short bit of music ‘Sailing by’ which is the theme tune to the Shipping Forecast. It was an important connection to mum.
A family of 3, mother always doubling as both parents. Life edged on. And then great joy a year later, her first Grandchild, Alex and a few years after a second, Callum – she was thrilled. She dived into doing Grandma things, taking them to school, learning to read and write, supporting their music and sporting achievements, cricket in the garden, zoo trips, visiting family and taking them on holidays and creating their dressing up outfits. Her favourite, King Richard the Lionheart and we still have the knitted chain-mail today. After a while mum decided to pursue a new interest in ‘Scottish Country Dancing’ and in North Leeds she met her first teacher, Brenda, who would become a dear, treasured friend for life, mum visiting her in a nursing home last year, 2 days before she died. And over the years, the names of countless individuals and couples would be relayed to us, Su and David (She loved his cuddles), Kathleen, Kath, Ivy, Ida, Alan, Peter, Joan, Julie, Marion, Ella, Wendy, Clive, Amy, Helen and just too many to list – this her second family. She attended countless events and volunteered, weekends away at Malhamdale, Scarborough, many summer schools in St. Andrews, visits and holidays abroad Russia, Spain, Hungary, South Africa and America. She was planning to visit Japan, but Lockdown descended. Names and tales that would be eagerly recalled, down the telephone. Sheer Happiness.
Later 2 more grandchildren, her first granddaughter Emily. The maternal DNA passed on – she was thrilled and Daniel shortly after, teaching him to waltz in our kitchen, first on her toes and latterly she on his! Dancing Grandma, potty training both my children bombing up and down the A1 at frightening speeds, ever present.
Our mum, endlessly fascinated and curious of her family tree and her heritage she researched it all, Dales life and Yorkshire ways. Passing on her recipes for Stew, sausage plait and pizza, stuffing, Walking, visiting, creating, painting and wallpapering our houses, a keen gardener we visited every RHS flower show, theatre lover, knitter, dressmaker, passing her ‘O’ level maths aged 50, avid historical reader, lover of winter trees, glider pilot, dancer, darts admirer and ‘why are they digging up that road again? Obsessive’.
Mum has had a great year. After the wet spring we travelled to spend Easter with her. She was eager to visit the National Coal Mining Museum in Wakefield. So on a grey, wet day we arrived. Didn’t look much, I thought. We had booked a trip underground, so donning hardhats we plunged 140m in the cage. We were a group of about 10, couple of younger children with grandparents, when our guide for the day, resplendent in an orange NCB boiler suit, said in the broadest of broad Yorkshire accents……..something? Silence. Mother shouted “Well, it’s TAZ”. He apparently had asked ‘So what’s my name?’ and T-A-Z was stamped on the peak of his hard hat. He replied ‘You and me are gonna get on, Mother’. She was thrilled. We proceeded for an hour and a half through 180 years of mining history until we reached a section which required us to crawl on hands and knees along a coal seam, 1m high. Taz turned to Mum and said ‘You can take the short……’ he didn’t finish the sentence. So, with me in front in case of a pull and Daniel behind in case of a push, at 86 she crawled the 5 metres. We lifted her to her feet and she beamed – a new appreciation of her father’s 20 years working as a miner.
In May, my husband Paul had been invited to St. Andrews and in telling mother, she had packed her bag before the end of the phone call. We proceeded up the A1 and spent a sunny day touring the town, talking of friends, visiting sites and past events. She was thrilled. We planned to return next year. It was also a chance to visit my Dad’s older brother in Aberdeenshire who was ill. Unfortunately Uncle Jeff died 2 days before we got there. However we spent a day with my 92yr old aunt and cousin chattering, swapping stories, revisiting photos. We missed our restaurant booking and they were still going when I had to intervene and say it was late and I still needed to drive an hour back to our hotel. She was thrilled. She decided to return a few weeks later for his funeral, so arranged by Andrew and Alex, she travelled on her own in 1st class, on the East Coast train to Aberdeen. She panicked and sat in the wrong seat and not realising the refreshments were free, took her pack lunch and flask. I think she needed to go for my Dad and say goodbye to Uncle Jeff, my Dad’s beloved brother.
Then in July she had booked trip with the U3A group with her good friend Ida. They’d travelled with the same company to Scotland and Ireland previously. This year Oxford and Cambridge. Unfortunately the day before, Ida fell ill and couldn’t go. Mum determined, went ahead. We visited her in the hotel in Cambridge. She was smiling but anxious and stressed. Her hearing had worsened dramatically in the last 2 years. So we arranged for her granddaughter, Emily to attend the Oxford leg with her. She immediately relaxed and off they set, 4 days of Grandma madness in the sun. It was to be her last vacation - memories to treasure.
So she spent her last week as many others, attending various dance classes, popping to Aldi, attending a funeral, collecting her prescription, seeing a brass band concert, having her hair done. Andrew called on Friday and together they finished pruning the snake-bark maple tree mum and dad had planted on their arrival in Kippax, he had brought her a National Trust pass – she was thrilled. He said his goodbyes and 10 minutes later I telephoned from Cambridge. She told me of her week and we laughed at silly nonsense and then she said ‘Andrew has brought me a NT pass’. I reminded her I have given her, her only granddaughter – she was thrilled, I past the phone to Emily who was returning to Uni the next day. She finished her conversation as always with ‘I love you Grandma’. Grandma replied as always ‘I love you too’.
She spent Saturday in her own company, watching a bit of TV, finishing a jigsaw, popping to Aldi and I can report absolutely no cleaning – I am thrilled! After tuna for tea and a 1/3 can of Guinness she retired to bed. Her Scottish country dancing bag stuffed with photos of friends and past vacations, orders of service and dancing shoes propped against the bed, she turned Radio 4 on, Loudly. She had slept poorly for years and found great comfort in listening to the nighttime programmes. Her favourite, the shipping forecast, often heard twice, she knew the sea areas and coastal weather stations by heart. She put her hair net on. Now I know she would not have liked me to admit that but I find it comforting. She got into bed, drifted to sleep for the last time.
In death as in life, neat, tidy, no fuss, perfect, no tragic scene for us.
Daughter, sister, niece, cousin, work colleague, wife, aunty, parent, great-aunt, grandparent, neighbour and friend.
Mother, you did a great job.
A Grand job
and we are so very, very proud of you.
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