Celebrating a Life

Once again I find myself indulging in some therapeutic writing. I wanted to write about Kevin’s funeral/celebration of life, with an explanation of why we chose the music, poetry, flowers and so on to make it about him.

We decided very quickly that Kevin’s beloved Labrador, Buddy would have to attend the funeral. Once again Kevin Foster, our funeral director organised the event for us with his usual calm efficiency and patience, as he had for Mum’s funeral a few weeks ago and he was totally amenable to that, even offering to walk with Buddy at the head of the cortege. We opted to keep Buddy in the car with us.

Kevin was not a religious man, so we opted for a humanist service at our new local crematorium at Bockenfield. We used the crematorium’s facility to livestream the service, as we had done with my Mum’s funeral. This has enabled many of our family and friends to take part who were unable to travel here because of distance, health or other committments. Our celebrant was Pauline Fellows, who visited us to plan the service. She was such a kind, gentle lady and very easy to work with.

We chose three pieces of music, all by bands we had seen perform. As we arrived. by Runrig played Gabriel’s Sword. The band originate in the Scottish Islands, where we spent many happy holidays and on our Scottish trips, Runrig’s music would always be playing in the car. Immediately after I read the eulogy, we listened the the very beautiful Everglow by Coldplay, another favourite band. All four of us went to see them once with friends. During this, a slide show of photographs of Kevin played. Finally we heard Beautiful Day by U2. We saw them many times and Kevin once introduced them live on stage, back in the day we were on the students’ Entertainment Committee at Sheffield University. They were supporting John Otway and Wild Willy Barrett at the time (this was a long time ago!)

Pauline had asked if we wanted to include a poem. It just happened that I’d bought a book of poetry for Kevin at Christmas. We had adopted the Icelandic tradition of  Yulebokkflod a few years back, and gave each other a book on Christmas Eve. Earlier last year we had been visiting the Sill visitor centre at Twice Brewed, near Hadrian’s Wall, where there had been an exhibition about a new book, The Lost Spells, by Robert Macfarlane and Jackie Morris. It showed some of the beautiful illustrations alongside extracts from the poems which are all about the natural world, and with recordings in the background, featuring birdsong. It was stunning and I bought the book to give to Kevin.

The poem I chose was Gorse. This spiny yellow shrub is a common feature of our local landscape here in North Northumberland, where it is known as Whin and gives its name to the Whin Sill, a huge outcrop of volcanic rock on the coast. The verses describe how though gorse creates a spiky impenetrable barrier it also provides shelter for the creatures that nest and seek refuge within it its thickets. Kevin was like this too. He could be a bit spiky, but truly cared for the rest of us.

Gorse

Good luck trying to force your way through 

Gorse! Better setting out across

a field of spears, a lake of pikes, a sky of

hawks, a hundred winters;

better getting dealt a thousand scratches

by a million splinters!

Out of crags and hedges, cliffs and ledges,

Gorse jags, spikes, crackles: raises

hackles, speaks sharply: Keep Out! Stay

Back! Get Off My Land!

Room is made by Gorse, though – space is

braced for redstart, rabbit,

wheatear, plover, quiet life is harboured in 

its criss-cross places.

See into Gorse; get past its guard and pick

a path towards its well-defended 

heart, the secrets kept within its limits.

Each of us is partly made of Gorse, of

course: prickly, cussed hard the parse 

and tough to handle, all helter-skelter

points and angles – but only ever really 

seeking love and giving shelter.

It’s a beautiful poem.

The flowers were by Polly’s Petals. Polly creates the most stunning naturalistic arrangements including wild flowers and foliage.

She created something beautiful to reflect the countryside that Kevin loved so much. It included bluebells, forget-me-nots, cherry blossom , rhododendron and wild foliage along with cream narcissus and lizzianthus.

There were also a few spikes of bright yellow gorse flowers to reflect our local landscape and the poem we chose.

Polly also added some pheasant feathers to continue the countryside theme.

The spray was made up in three sections, so Kevin’s sister, our daughter and I could each take part of it home.

Kevin loved following our local hunt, the Percy hounds, so at the end of the service, one of the hunt staff, Will, blew the hunting horn, sounding the long continuous note that is used to signal the end of a day’s hunting: Blowing for Home. Right on cue, Buddy, who had lain quietly all the way through, pricked up his ears and barked, just as he would if he heard the horn when he was out with Kevin on a hunting day.

Afterwards we went to one of Kevin’s favourite places, Rigg and Furrow – his favourite bar and the home of his favourite beer, Run Hop Run. We had spent many an hour over many a drink here in the brewery tap of this farm-based brewery, always loving the relaxed, fun atmosphere and the warm welcome. There was absolutely no other place we could have gone for the post-funeral reception, and when we asked they said it would be an honour to host it.

Pippa, who runs the venue, recommended our caterer, Kooked North. Laura created the most spectacular grazing board of cheese, charcuterie, pate, breads, crackers, olives, pickles, dips, nuts and fruit.

Kevin was an excellent cook and loved good food. He enjoyed trying locally made produce, so it was lovely to see some of our favourite Doddington’s cheeses being served.

There were also some tasty sweet and savoury baked treats, including some delicious sausage rolls, with either black pudding or pork and apple.

As those present shared their memories of Kevin over a drink and some food, we played some of his favourite music and ran a slideshow of photos.

We were overwhelmed by the turnout, which included people from so many different parts of Kevin’s life, some of whom had travelled a long distance to be there. He would have been really touched that so many came.

I’m so grateful to all that contributed to make the day such a perfect reflection of who Kevin was.

19 Days Without Kevin

It’s 19 days since Kevin died and three days since his funeral. I’m doing ok, though I have my moments. I’m getting so much support from friends and family. Everyone has been so lovely.

I wrote and read the Eulogy for Kevin at the service. I had done the same at my Dad’s funeral in 2002 and earlier this year for my Mum, so I couldn’t NOT do this for Kevin. It was after all the last thing I’ll ever do for him. Several people have asked for a copy of it, so I thought I’d post it here. My early thoughts immediately following his death in my previous post formed the start of it.

Kevin was born on December 23, 1957 in Blackpool, the son of David and Wyn. He was never a great fan of Christmas having that birthday! He was followed by his sister Jane in 1961. As he grew up in a time when children ranged freely, he would go off for hours at a time exploring and knew about every pond in the area and what creatures lived there. He would also go fishing. Both became lifelong interests. Kevin was brought up in the Catholic Church and became an altar boy for a time, though not a particularly good one. Swinging the thurifer (that holds burning incense) rather too enthusiastically during a service, some of the contents spilt and burnt a hole in the church carpet!

When he was a little older, the family moved to Blackburn. The fishing continued, this time on the canal. He enjoyed his time at St Mary’s College in Blackburn rather more than the very strict St Josephs in Blackpool. The school owned a property in the Lake District and ran weekend trips for the students. Kevin loved the hill walking particularly and completed the Coast to Coast Walk and the Pennine Way.

After A Levels he attended Newcastle University to study Zoology. Thoroughly embracing student life, he got into climbing and caving, joined the Entertainments committee for his hall of residence, sold the student newspaper and made lifelong friends. After graduating, he did a teaching course at Sheffield University, joining the entertainments committee that put on the concerts and discos in the Students Union. He once introduced U2 live on stage (they were only a lowly support act at the time, but it’s still a great claim to fame!) Teaching was not for Kevin – the teaching practice he had to do as part of his course sealed that, so he returned to his family, but travelled back to Sheffield every weekend to work on concerts with his Ents friends. That’s how we met and how live music has been a shared interest ever since.

As we got to know each other I found out that we were both science and nature nerds. When we first got together and he was walking me home one night, the entire conversation was about worms. It was quite a revelation to actually meet someone who knew the difference between a platyhelminth and an annelid (that’s a flatworm and a segmented worm, so now you know too).  

Love blossomed. I’m told that on one of his early visits with my family, my mother asked my brother if he thought that Kevin was ‘The One’ as we certainly had a lot in common. “Aye,” he replied. “They’re both weird.” Meeting my rather loud extended family must have been quite a shock to him when I think about it.

Over the next few years, Kevin split his time between Sheffield and Lancashire – he completed a postgrad course in Preston and had jobs with a Housing Association and the Probation Service. He bought a house in Blackburn. By now he had proposed. I never got a proper down on one knee proposal. We were at a Big Country gig and he suggested we got engaged.

Kevin could at times be very romantic however. I had mentioned that I’d always wanted a four poster bed. He surprised me by actually building one, complete with drapes! 

We married in 1987 and honeymooned in North West Scotland, which bas been our favourite holiday destination ever since. We set up home together in Blackburn in the little terraced house house with the big four poster bed and acquired our first dog, Fergie the Beagle. It was here that Kevin first developed his interest in gardening, digging up the concrete in the tiny front garden and back yard. By the time we moved to our next house. We had a resident nesting robin, a pond with frogs and the estate agent described it in the listing as “an attractive walled garden”. We both nurtured our love of wildlfe, volunteering in the local country park, joining the conservation volunteers and with local bat and newt conservation groups. We joined the quiz team at our local pub. During this time we both began working for local government, doing community development work. 

We moved to a bigger house and not long after that in 1992, our daughter Caitlin was born.

We moved again, to a new house in Burnley and Calum came along in 1998.

Kevin was a wonderful father to our children. Being a good dad was very important to him. As soon as they were old enough to sit up in the back back, the children accompanied Kevin on the walks in the Country park and when Calum was a tiny baby, always concious that Caitlin might feel left out, he’d take her off for the day on “adventures” in the countryside. As the children grew up, most weekends would include a day out to somewhere of interest. It might be a nice walk, or a visit to a museum or a zoo, but there was always something.

Watching children’s TV when Caitlin and Calum were small, everytime Blue Peter came on, Kevin recalled how he had won a Blue Peter Badge, but had sadly lost it. I ended up writing a begging letter to the programme and presented him with a brand new Blue Peter badge on his 40^th birthday. But Kevin got me some pretty original presents over the years too: a fishing rod and reel, a microscope, an inflatable canoe all spring to mind.

In 2002 we moved to Northumberland, something we’d wanted to do for a long time . I’ve always loved it here and Kevin got to know it as a student. However, we both needed to work and when, we got job offers in the area within 3 days of each other, it seemed meant to be. We moved in with my Mum in Swarland until our house in Shilbottle was ready to move into some 10 months later. Mum adored Kevin and doted on her grandchildren so it worked well and helped her get through the period immediately after my father died. As she got older Kevin became more involved in helping me look after her when she was ill, doing odd things round the house and doing shopping for her and my aunt.

We all thrived here. Kevin rekindled his love of sea fishing. We joined the local village drama group – Kevin found himself behind the mixing desk again, just like his student days and kept us all entertained with amusing sound effects. The sound of a pneumatic drill in a scene involving dental surgery was one of the highlights 

The stage effects didn’t end there. Every Halloween Kevin would decorate the front of the house, with pumpkins, ghosts, gravestones, witches, rats, bats, a steaming cauldron and a remote controlled tarantula along with the obligatory spooky sound effects. This attracted loads of trick or treaters and their parents. He absolutely loved it (still hated Christmas though!)

We worked long hours but there was always one of us to put the children to bed. Kevin’s work with community groups and parish councils took him all over Northumberland and he developed an encyclopaedic knowledge of the County. He quickly got to know everything about the geography and history of every village he had dealings with, so trips out in the car were an education. Then there was the local wildlife – there were always binoculars in the car and a collection of identification books to hand.He adored the Northumbrian landscape, from the upland moors and forestry..

… to the coastal whin sill, beaches and cliffs. 

Kevin was proud to see our children thrive here and grow into the amazing adults they have become – he adored them and always wanted the best for them. 

In 2015 we acquired a new family member, Buddy the labrador. I had just taken medical retirement and we’d always said that we could only get another dog when one of us left work – the long hours simply wouldn’t allow it (despite the children’s protestations). Kevin took early retirement the following year and was able to give Buddy longer walks than me – they absolutely adored each other and walked at least five miles most days, usually on the beach, carefully avoiding the places popular with tourists so Buddy wouldn’t steal picnics.

Being retired enabled more fishing time and thanks to Caitlin’s previous job with a fishing tackle company and a great staff discount, Kevin acquired an enormous collection of fishing gear. He also had a boat for a while, The Isla Mia, which brought a new dimension to the fishing, along with a freezer full of mackerel.

This was not a problem as Kevin was an accomplished cook. He particularly loved seafood (though to be fair many of the fish he caught were too small to keep for the pot).

With friends who shoot he also had a ready supply of game and loved experimenting with new recipes for it.

Another passion of Kevin’s has been following the Percy hounds, very nearly every day they are out since he retired. He has loved visiting places off the beaten track, the traditions involved and the friends he has made. 

More recently he got involved with the Alumni Network at Newcastle University. He was a proud Newcastle Graduate and was enjoying the opportunity to give back.

Kevin was a man of strong opinions. He could be a bit of a keyboard warrior at times. I always used to say that he had gone seamlessly from angry young man to grumpy old man. We’d always wind him up about this and over the years the children had given him countless “Grumpy Old Man” tshirts, mugs and other items.

One of the many things I loved about Kevin was the way he has always seen past my disability and health issues and made me feel good about myself. I came to rely on him more and more as my carer in recent years as my mobility has deteriorated. He would always make sure my scooter batteries were charged and knew the perfect way to help me up steps. He did all the cooking and the gardening and loads round the house. He never questioned this – he just did it out of sheer love.

Mind you, there was an unexpected perk. As a disabled customer going to a concert I’d be entitled to a free companion ticket so in recent years we’d been to loads of gigs.

We had so many plans: holidays, work on the house, more concerts. We were off for a couple of days in Yorkshire the day Kevin died. He’d been unwell, but described his symptoms as being flu-like – he was always in denial about being ill. We now believe he’d had a minor heart attack, followed by another early that morning. He did not want me to call the ambulance but I did. He seemed ok in the hospital, sat up in bed chatting to me, posting online, but later that afternoon he collapsed and despite the efforts of the medical team could not be resuscitated.

And now he’s gone. I’m angry, I’m lost. We are all devastated that he’s been taken from us far far too soon. There’s an enormous empty hole in our lives where Kevin should be. We don’t know what our lives will look like without this loving, caring, opinionated, sometimes grumpy, complicated, wonderful man.

But I’m also so very lucky. Lucky that we met, that we spent so many wonderful years together. That there was so much love in my life. That he has given me the two most fantastic children from whom I draw great strength and Kevin would be so proud of them. He was my best friend, my soul mate. Kevin Bartlett: I love you. I always will.

Stitches, Sea and Sadness

Today I went down to the sea with my current project. I didn’t do much work on it. I stared at the waves a lot. Things are not the same.

Two days ago K died following a massive heart attack. This comes only six weeks after the death of my mother. Once again I find myself writing here as therapy so please forgive the self indulgence and move on to something else if you need to.

Let me tell you about Kevin (I rarely used full names on here to preserve people’s anonymity so always referred to him on the blog as K). We’d been married for 37 years. He was my soulmate, my best friend, my lover, the father of our two amazing children and my carer too. My disability meant he did more for me practically than most partners have to.

We met at University. We were both on the Entertainments Committee that organised the gigs and discos in the Students Union. I was an undergraduate, he had finished a postgraduate course the year before and came up at weekends to work on the concerts with his Ents friends. That’s where our shared love of live music came from.

We were both science and nature nerds. When we first got together and he was walking me home one night, the entire conversation was about worms. It was quite a revelation to actually meet someone who knew the difference between a platyhelminth and an annelid (that’s a flatworm and a segmented worm, so now you know too).

We both worked in local government. We’ve had four homes over the years, in Lancashire and Northumberland. We have a son and a daughter, now grown up. Being a good father was always so important to Kevin. He always did his best for them both.

Since we both retired we’d developed new lives for ourselves that combined time together and separate interests, in his case fishing, geology, trail hunting and walking, with Buddy the Labrador. More recently , as a proud graduate of Newcastle University he’d become involved with the Alumni Network. He always gave 100% to everything he did.

Of course he wasn’t perfect. He had strong opinions that he wasn’t afraid to share, often online. We used to joke that he’d gone seamlessly from angry young man to grumpy old man.

Right now I’m grieving. I’m angry at the unfairness of it all. I’m feeling this massive hole in my life and I don’t know what the future will look like. Our two children are somehow managing to look after me on top of their own grief. I’m immensely proud of them and I know their dad would be too. I’m also overwhelmed by the love and support of family and friends.

I’m also grateful. I was so lucky to have this wonderful man in my life for 40 years and for the love we shared. He completed me. Kevin will always be in my heart.

Lessons in Entrelac

I spent a very enjoyable Saturday at a knitting workshop run by Judith Schur of Needlecase, at Amble Pin Cushion. Five of us were learning about modular and entrelac knitting under Judith’s expert tuition. She’s also recently run workshops on Fair Isle, Brioche and Sock Knitting.

Judith began by showing us some of her modular and entrelac creations, including, scarves, cowls and blankets. They look amazing!

We began learning the basics of modular knitting, making a mitred square, then picking up stitches along one edge before knitting a second square, and so on to make a 2 x 2 square sample.

We then worked on samples of entrelac.. which uses a similar technique but gives the appearance of woven strips of knitting. It looks really effective.

It was a lovely relaxing day, spent in great company.

I got my entrelac sample almost finished, completing it the following day. I’m really pleased with it.

One of Judith’s completed items that caught my eye was this cowl made using the modular technique, but using shell shapes instead of squares.

I think it’s stunning and couldn’t wait to try it, using one of the patterns Judith gave us during the session. I made a start tonight and completed the first shape. It’s so exciting to be learning something new!

Gig Review: Hawkwind

Newcastle City Hall 5 April 2024

We were back to the City Hall last night. This one was for K. Hawkwind aren’t my sort of thing at all, but he’s seen them a number of times over the years.

Unlike the last gig we went to at the venue, this one was seated. I suppose you shouldn’t rub it in, but as Hawkwind have been around since the late 60s, their audience are not exactly in the first flush of youth so it’s debatable whether many of them could comfortably stand through an entire set.

As usual the excellent stewards from ShowSec are well briefed on supporting disabled customers and as soon as I rock up on my scooter we are escorted to the level entrance at the side of the building on College Street, where my name is quickly checked off the list, bag searched and ticket scanned and we are escorted to our seats – the designated area is right at the front left of the stalls – the view is good, but it is very close to the speakers. More on that later.

I opt to transfer to my seat as the scooter is quite high and I don’t want to block the view of anyone behind. As one of the stewards checks over the radio about the best place to park my scooter, he refers to me as a “young lady” – it’s been a while. Maybe that expensive face cream I bought a while back is working better than I thought. Mind you, looking around I could see that for the most part, I’m right about the audience, which is…mature.

As when on the viewing platform for standing gigs, there is a drinks ordering service for disabled customers, operated by the lovely Alec.

Looking up at the stage I can see some weird statue-like figures painted either side of a central screen, that make it look like the set of an Indiana Jones tomb set. There are also banners with representations of some past albums (at least that’s what K told me)

It’s time for the support. I do love it when the first sound hits you straight in the chest and you can feel your sternum and diaphragm vibrating with the bass. After a short while my concerns about seats so near to the speakers had become real. My ears were actually hurting slightly. Now I remember being told many year ago , “If it’s too loud, you’re too old”. Maybe that’s true! As for the band, all except lead guitarist were…vintage.

This is not my sort of stuff at all but I do remember a cracking classic rock drum solo at the end of their set. Oddly, the band didn’t introduce themselves so I’ve still no clue who they were.

In the break, I decided to be kind to my ears – ear protector plugs are available in the box office, so I went and got some.

K went to stretch his legs. I’d reminded him to take some more paracetamol as he’s had a touch of flu and was feeling lousy earlier in the day. ” I don’t want to be seen popping pills here” he said. “Look around,” I replied. “Most of the people here are likely to be taking joint supplements, statins. or other prescription drugs. When he got back he agreed that I had a point as the queue for the toilets was longer than the queue for the bar.

Hawkwind came on to cheers from the fans and on came the lasers , all five of them- a pretty spectacular show really. They’d have looked better with more smoke but the air conditioning limits that – still looked great. And the banners and backdrop sides began to glow as the UV lights came on. Meanwhile a series of animations played on the central screen.

Hawkwind had just released a new album that day (Stories of Time and Space) so this tour was to promote that. Their set was a mixture of tracks from this and old favourites. You won’t hear them playing two of their greatest hits though. Apparently the band hated Silver Machine, and Motorhead became more associated with the band of the same name when it was formed by former Hawkwind bassist, the late Lemmy.

Hawkwind have had numerous changes of personnel throughout their long career and only Dave Brock remains, reading lyrics and poems in between songs (didn’t get that bit at all really) and doing the vocals, though not on all songs – lead guitarist Magnus Martin did a lot of that.

Interestingly they weren’t as loud as the support act, so I didn’t really need those earplugs! And I learnt a new term: space noodling. The weird spaceship sounds from the keyboards that begin some of the tracks.

The obligatory encore and we were done. I couldn’t comment really but K said Hawkwind were as good as they’ve ever been. The playing was tight and he really enjoyed it. I enjoyed the lasers. The things we do for love!

Off the Hook: Ron Weasley

When I was at one of the craft groups I go to a few weeks ago I admired a beautiful granny square blanket that was being finished off by one of my fellow crafters. It was in shades of pink, purple and turquoise with white. She told me that they were unicorn colours, as requested by her granddaughter. When I said that she’d love it, my friend said she wasn’t sure as said granddaughter is no longer into unicorns – she’s now a Harry Potter fan.

“She wants me to make this,” said my friend, pushing a box across the table towards me. It was a kit to make Harry Potter’s best pal, Ron Weasley, amigurumi style.

This style of crochet is not my friend’s thing, so I offered to make up the Ron kit, as long as I could hang on to it as an example on my “Introduction to Amigurumi” workshop last week. I’ve been getting quite behind with my projects so I only had the head finished in time for that.

It was quite fiddly, to make, as many of these amigurami projects are, with the eyes, ears, hair and fringe crocheted separately and sewn on, then I had to embroider the mouth and freckles! I have to say that the pattern wasn’t exactly the easiest to follow.

I pushed on to finish Ron for Tuesday so I could give him to my friend. She’s really happy with him. Let’s hope her granddaughter is too!

Stash Sale Shopping

I’d seen some publicity on social media recently about a stash sale. I hadn’t really thought a lot about it until I realised that it was on the way to Newcastle Airport, where I would be heading to pick daughter up on Saturday afternoon. I thought I’d call in.

If you’ve never been to a stash sale, they are a brilliant way of picking up crafting bargains. Those taking part each have table to set out their wares: anything they want rid of from their crafting stash that others may find a use for.

This one at Stannington Village Hall had been well-publicised and was extremely well supported, absolutely rammed with visiting crafters after a bargain, and there was so much to choose from. There was yarn, fabric, card making, embroidery and quilting supplies and more….absolutely all sorts! There was also a cafe area selling drinks and scones and a raffle in aid of a local food bank.

One of the first things I picked up was some yarn: some big cones of 4-ply in pink, magenta and purple at only £1 each. I also bought some claret coloured cotton yarn, also £1.

I saw a couple of people I knew, including one of the stallholders, a friend that I haven’t seen for ages, so it was lovely to have a catch up with her…and she had some lovely items for sale. This bag of small pieces of sari fabric with embellishments was only £5

I also bought this box of pearly glass beads, also £5, which is perfect for a forthcoming project I’m planning.

There were books, patterns and magazines for sale on several of the stalls and I bought this crochet book – it includes a pretty comprehensive library of crochet stitch pattern, which will come in useful as I design more things for crochet classes.

Finally, there was a length of lace fabric (£1) and a handbag frame (£3)

Not a bad haul for £22!

Have you ever been to a stash sale? What was your best ever find?

Gig Review: Echo and the Bunnymen

Newcastle City Hall 23 March 2024

It’s been a while since I wrote a review – as usual it’s from my viewpoint as a disabled fan, which is not always the experience you’d like it to be.

This was the first standing only concert I’d been to at Newcastle City Hall. There is a registration system for disabled customers – once you have sent them details of your requirements and proof of disability, you can book an accessible seat and a companion ticket, ie two tickets. If it’s a standing gig they send you one ticket – which confused me until I phoned them. The other thing to remember is that if tickets go on sale at 10 am, the box office at City Hall doesn’t open until 12 noon!

The accessible entrance is on College Street (one of the side doors) but it’s not clearly marked – knock hard and they open it for you, check your ticket and stamp your hand, then escort you to your seat – in this case the accessible platform – a good solid structure at the back of the stalls with plenty of very helpful stewards and a reserved spot with your name on. I was able to drive my little folding scooter straight into the space. There was even a member of staff to take your bar orders – all great so far!

The place was filling up fast – looked like a sellout.

Erica Nockalls was the support act. She’s a confident performer with strong, soaring vocals .

It was a bit of a revelation when she brought out the violin – turns out she’s classically trained, has played with the Wonder Stuff, the Proclaimers and more. The set was engaging, but dark….a cut above the average support act.

There’s a great atmosphere on the platform tonight. There’s space enough for three of us on wheels with our companions and seats behind for ambulant disabled. I’m aware that my scooter seat is quite high and I don’t want to block anyone’s view so I give K’s seat to the woman behind- he never sits anyway. I have a long chat about accessibility at concerts with someone else on the platform – he’s a musician, loves going to gigs and has some horror stories about the total lack of thought that has gone into some of the disabled facilities he’s come across in the past – things are getting better, but are still a long way from perfect.

They’ve certainly tried at the City Hall, but there is one flaw: the position of the platform. It’s at the back of the stalls underneath the balcony, so the chatter from the audience is magnified and is very distracting when you just want to listen to the band (I despair at why people do this almost as much as when they watch the gig through their mobiles).

The House Manager comes over to check all is well on the platform – he’s been working there for years – it turns out that several of us on the platform saw our first gig at the City Hall (mine was The Tourists, forerunner of the Eurythmics, back in the 80s). He was telling us that the venue is celebrating its centenary in a couple of years – it’s been through a lot, closed for a while and then underwent a big refurbishment some years back, which has created a flexible space with both seated and standing events possible.

In the interval I went to find the accessible toilet, which is situated in the foyer, Radar Key operated. One of the lovely stewards on the platform helped me as I appeared to have left my own Radar Key in another handbag! It’s not a bad facility, spacious enough, though could do with a mirror. As I was reversing my scooter out, someone held the door open for me – I looked up and it turned out it was Erica, the support act, who was standing there next to the merch stall – so we had a brief chat – she was lovely!

The atmosphere was building. It was time for Echo & The Bunnymen. A projection of bare trees created a sombre look to the stage as the band came on stage, the perfect backdrop to the brooding silhouette of Ian McCulloch, who remained unlit for most of the performance.

We’ve seen a lot of 80s artists over the last couple of years – some have changed a lot over time, but McCulloch’s voice sounds as good as ever (and he still has a full head of hair). There’s something menacing about those songs: the minor chords, the jangling guitar, the dark lyrics, but I love it!

They played two sets. In the interval we are really glad of the platform bar assistant as everyone in the place is replenishing their drinks. The band return to the stage and McCulloch’s control of the crowd is powerful – the smallest gesture sets everyone up to sing or clap along.

He’s a man of few words and the one time he said more than a sentence between songs, it was drowned out by the chatter (damn those platform acoustics). We already heard Bring on the Dancing Horses at the end of set one, but the rest of the hits come thick and fast now. The Cutter, Seven Seas, the hauntingly beautiful Killing Moon, and to end, Lips Like Sugar.

Echo and the Bunnymen never figured heavily in my record collection at the time but those are classics, with a dark edge to most that set them apart. Somehow that has stood the test of time.

Buzzing About Betty Bee

The upstairs room at Amble Pin Cushion was buzzing yesterday for my latest crochet workshop.

This time I was introducing participants to the joys of Amigurumi – those double crochet toys and figures that have become so popular. I took some previous projects and a work in progress to show them, including a couple of my mini-ponies.

The project I’d chosen for them to make was a cute bumble bee that I’ve named Betty! Isn’t she bee-utiful?

Betty’s construction included several techniques that are commonly found in amigurumi…

• Magic loop (a way of starting off when crocheting in the round that leaves no gapping for stuffing to show through)
• Double crochet increase
• Double crochet decrease
• Changing yarn colour

I’ve been making some mini tutorial videos to help my students continue their project at home without getting too bee-wildered. There’s only so much of it can be completed during a 2-hour session so I hope this will bee a useful way to help them practice these skills.

As with all my classes, I prepared detailed illustrated instructions but also included an info sheet about amigurumi. I also put together materials packs, including cotton yarn, filling, beads for eyes and pre-cut wings (made from offcuts of dress netting) , some of which had been kindly supplied by APC’s owner, Norma. The only thing the students needed to bring on the day was a crochet hook.

Five people took part, and before long the room was a hive of industry. All were fairly new to crochet and included a pair of sisters, a member of my spinning group, who is also booked on to my Granny Squares workshop next month, and one of my regular students. What a lovely group of women! There was a really nice atmosphere and I thoroughly enjoyed running the session.

I always ask people to complete a short evaluation at the end of the session. think if I run it again it might bee a good idea to prepare some ready-started projects, with the magic loop completed – it took some of the group a while to get past this which really ate into the time available. … and I don’t want my lovely participants getting bee-fuddled by something early on in the session and bee put off.

Hopefully they’ll now have enough information to complete their projects and there’ll be a whole swarm of Betty Bees dispersed through this part of Northumberland.

I’ll stop the bee puns now!

I’m back in the training room at APC next month to repeat my popular Granny Squares workshop – there always seems to be a demand for this one, with lots of potential projects in unlimited colour combinati0ns once you’ve mastered the basics.

Saying Goodbye to Mum (3)

A Silver Lining

Mum on road by Glen View Cottage

It’s been a horrible few weeks, but something that has been really positive about the whole experience has been reaching out to my extended family. Both my grandparents came from large families so there are a lot of us. Initially this was to let people know that Mum had passed away, then we shared memories of her.

I knew that my Mum, along with her mother, brothers and some of the cousins had been evacuated to the village of Ingoe during World War II, to escape the bombing in Newcastle. Shipyards, engineering works and factories making tanks and guns had made the city into a target.

One of Mum’s cousins, Pat, a lovely lady who I have not seen in years, has been exchanging emails with me. She and her brother, Michael were in Ingoe during the war with Mum. One of her grandchildren had done a school project about wartime evacuation and she’d written about it for him. She sent me this account along with some photographs and has very kindly allowed me to publish them here.

Pat

Evacuation in 1939

I was seven years old when the Second World War began and I lived with my parents and younger brother in Newcastle upon Tyne.  My school had infant, junior and senior departments.  Our parents were given the option to allow us to be evacuated from Newcastle which was thought to be a prime target for German bombers as it had a large shipbuilding industry as well as engineering works and associated factories making armaments.  Railway links with Newcastle running north, south, and west were important and there was a large goods depot where food supplies and necessities were stored and where trains were maintained and repaired.  Throughout England more than 3,000,000 children and adults were evacuated, from cities and towns, to areas which were deemed to be ‘safer’ in a scheme known as Pied Piper.

My mother volunteered to go as a helper with children from the school and my brother came too.  Michael was three years old.  I am sure that there must have been meetings for parents, and certainly information and lists, so that they knew what the children had to take with them, when and where everyone had to assemble but we were not told where we would be taken.  On the morning of the evacuation we all went to school equipped with a case, or bag, containing underclothes, night clothes, slippers, socks, spare shoes, toothpaste and brush, soap, facecloth, towel and some warm clothes and with the all-important gas mask in a box attached to a long string which went around our necks.  I think that we were all wearing warm coats to which a label was pinned giving our names and ages and the name of the school from which we had been sent.  We also carried something to eat on the journey.  

In a very long crocodile we left the school fairly early in the morning and walked to the nearest railway station which was not far away (on Jesmond Road) accompanied by teachers and many helpers.  My mother was not only responsible for Michael and me but she also had several other children to look after during the journey and I do remember that we all managed to fit into one railway compartment.  Many parents accompanied us to the station but could not board the train so stood on the platform watching their children on the train.  I think that there were lots of tears but generally we children were quite excited to be on a train.

The train left Jesmond Station, Newcastle when it was full and took us through Newcastle then, very quickly out west into the countryside.  We must have travelled to Carlisle then south to the Lake District.  It was quite a long journey but most children had a sandwich or piece of bread and cheese.  There was a lot of unemployment on Tyneside and many very poor families so the sandwiches may have contained egg or cheese but there were many children on the trains who had just a piece of bread or a jam sandwich.  Apples came out of many pockets and some had the luxury of a Kit Kat biscuit or another type of biscuit.  We were given water to drink several times during the day and mother had brought some extra food and sweets to share with the children in our carriage.  I think that we fell asleep for a while and in the afternoon we were aware that the countryside was different, we could see high hills and mountains.  The train eventually reached Windermere and, I think that we were then taken, in buses, to Bowness on Windermere which was our destination and we walked to a school where lots of people were waiting for us.  Because Michael and I were accompanied by a parent we were almost last to be allocated a place to stay and by that time we were all very tired. I am sorry that I did not ask my mother, when I was an adult, how she felt about the situation, how she related to the lady with whom we were living and how she felt about being away from her own home.  She was kept very busy because two other children were with us and I know that she did a lot of the cooking and washing.

We were billeted with the head teacher of the primary school who lived in a large house opposite an open piece of land on which brambles grew and where blackberries were ripening in large quantities so that blackberry pies, crumbles and cakes were everyday items on the menu.  We went to school each day but only for half a day as the school could not accommodate the resident population of children plus all the evacuees.  The weather was lovely that September and we would walk down to the lake, paddle in the shallow water for a while, play in the sand and throw pebbles into the lake before walking back to the house for lunch or tea.  There was no bombing during the first few weeks and months of the war and mother decided to take us back to Newcastle for a while.  

I think that Uncle Ken [my grandfather] came to collect us because we made the journey by car and, at that time, my father could not drive because of a badly damaged ankle.  Uncle Ken’s parents had a cottage twenty miles outside Newcastle where our Aunty Wyn [my grandmother] and Gillian [my mum], were already staying and within a few weeks Michael and I went to stay with them.  Mother stayed at home with Dad but mother’s youngest sister (Jean) came with us to help look after us all.  Aunty Jean was still quite young then and living with our Grandmother in Newcastle until she was old enough to join the WRAAF.  The village in which the cottage stood was on a high outcrop of rock with views towards Newcastle and the coast so that on a fine day we could see a silver line on the horizon which was the North Sea. 

South Crag.L-R: Pat, Michael (Pat’s brother), ?, Mum

There were only about thirty cottages and half a dozen farms in the area plus a Methodist Chapel.  There were no shops but a travelling shop called three times each week and I can still recall the very special smell that came from the back of the van when the driver opened the doors – the mingled smell of bread, meats, apples, vegetables, and paraffin for the lamps was very distinctive and I can still remember it today!  On Thursdays a bus came at 9.30 and took people to Hexham to do their main shopping and brought them back at 3.30., we children never went on the bus. Another smell which reminds me of Ingoe is that of Phlox  because there were clumps of pink Phlox in front of the house, there was also a Beech hedge and when I hear the breeze through the Beech hedge here in Cheltenham I am reminded of Ingoe.  Smells!  Pleasant and not so pleasant!

Outside cottage. Had Tinted? Mum and her cousin Michael with Auntie Jean behind the garden wall

There was a school which took in children from the age of five to fourteen, which was the school leaving age then; the head teacher was Miss Robson and there was an assistant evacuee teacher whose name I cannot remember.  There was only one large classroom for all the children and on the longest wall there was an enormous fire range which kept the room warm and provided us with hot water and sometimes, in the winter, soup for the children who could not go home for lunch.  Many of the children had a long walk to and from school each day; they came from outlying farms and cottages.  The toilets were outside and were very basic, smelly, draughty and cold and they had a distinctive smell too!

The village had no running water into the cottages and farms although some of the farms had wells.  People in the village had to carry every drop of water that was needed from a tapped spring which lay at the bottom of a steep hill (I think that it was called The Pant!) and each child who was capable of doing so had to help to carry at least a little water.  When evening came we lit Tilley (paraffin) lamps and candles so it was always early to bed even for the adults.  

Outside cottage. Mum and Cousin Michael

War seemed a long way away although we did sometimes see air battles in the distance and when there had been a night raid on Newcastle we could see the glow of large fires even though it was so far away.  The night on which the goods station at Manors Railway Station was bombed the blaze was spectacular and could still be seen during the day.  At school we were trained to run to a ditch or hedge and lie down with our hands over our heads and ears when we heard an aeroplane.  Usually the planes were friendly as there was a small air field nearby where new pilots were trained but occasionally there were German planes in the vicinity.

Life must have been very difficult for Aunty Wyn but I don’t remember her being cross with us.  Every house had one or two rainwater butts to collect water from the roofs for washing people and clothes but every drop of drinking water had to be carried in buckets from ‘The Pant’ which was a piped spring at the bottom of the steep road which was the only road into the village.  An adult would carry two buckets and any child capable of carrying water was expected to help.  Neighbours were helpful and generally kind.  There were no indoor bathrooms/toilets; outside, at the back of the house there were two facing rows of cubicles each containing a wooden plank seat with a hole over a bucket!  It was smelly in the summer and bitterly cold in the winter and the holes did seem quite large!  Michael actually managed to lose his grip on the side of the hole and fell down into the bucket.  Poor Aunty!  Fortunately Aunt Florrie was staying at the time and she had to extricate him from the bucket then clean him up!!  She was not amused. There were chamber pots under the beds and we washed in a bowl in the tiny kitchen or had a bath in a tin bath into which hot water from the ‘range’ was poured – sometimes the tin was a bit hot I do remember that!   We had Tilley lamps and candles for lighting and a coal/wood burning range in the living room for heat and for cooking.  There was always a kettle of water on the hob and the oven was usually warm, or hot for cooking.  I don’t remember much about the food except that we had a lot of vegetable soups sometimes flavoured with chicken stock from boiled bones.  

My mother came at the weekends and always brought some ‘goodies’ for us all and clean clothes for three children.  Uncle Ken still had a car so was able to come most weekends and he was the one who had the unenviable task of emptying our toilet bucket!  When we knew that he would be coming we would be outside listening for his car which we could hear before we could see it.  I do remember the utter silence on most days although, of course, there were plenty of farms around the village so there were a few tractors.  Most of the farms still used horses with ploughs and the hay was often still cut by men with scythes although some was cut mechanically.  We bought our milk from Pasture House Farm where Mr and Mrs Temple lived and they became firm friends and were very kind to us.  Sometimes they would give us a couple of free eggs or a few rashers of bacon.  Another farm was Sandyway Heads which was farmed by the son of the largest nearby farm but I can’t remember the name of that farm or of the farmers.

I loved the country and the freedom that I had to roam fields and play in the bracken on the South Crag.  School was very relaxed!   We younger children were often looked after by the older girls who just ‘mothered’ us and read to us – if they could read themselves.  Michael and Gillian were too young to go to school so were looked after by Aunty Wyn.  I wish that I had talked to her too about those days!  I also wish that I had thanked her for her care during the time we were with her.

At South Crag. Far right: Michael, looking up at my grandmother (his Aunty Wyn). In front of them ar Pat (R) and Mum next to her drinking from cup

I’m so grateful to Pat for sending me this. She has an incredible memory! It has given me so much insight into what My mother experienced during this time – she was very young (just 2 years old when war broke out), so she could only just remember some of it. Pat has written such an amazing account, not only a fascinating social document, but a piece of my family’s history that I will cherish.

The photos Pat sent include this one of the cottage. It still stands and can be seen on Google Map Street View – little has changed

Glen View Cottage

Screenshot from Google Street View

Another unexpected connection that I discovered after the last two blog posts were published is that one of my blog subscribers is the mother-in-law of one of my cousins (Hello Cathy!). She is a keen genealogist and has traced my ancestors several generations back from back from my grandfather (Uncle Ken in Pat’s account). Cathy has offered to send me further details. How amazing is that?

All this is really helping me find something really positive at what has been a very sad time – I’m learning more of my family’s history and it’s so interesting.