16 October 2010
14 October 2010
Poppa George and Nana Win (Gramp's parents)
My Gramps was one of the most formative figures in my life and I hero worshipped him as a kid. He was this larger than life person who openly showed this love and wherever he went, there was laughter. I wanted to be just like him when I grew up. Because my Gramps was so special to me, I am very interested to know more about his parents who helped make him into the person he became. Here are some facts, photos and some memories.
Read biographical details about Poppa George (George Sorrell) and Nana Win (Winifred Webber)
Mum's Memories of Nana Win and Poppa George
My paternal grandparents used to come and spend every Christmas with us and we would travel up to London to meet them and then we would all go to a pantomime or show. We would walk down Oxford Street on the way to the theatre, looking at the brightly decorated shops. One evening I grabbed grandpa’s hand to show him something special only to find it was not grandpa’s hand but a stranger’s. I can still remember feeling so totally mortified! It’s strange how something so unimportant can affect one for so long!
Nana Win and Poppa George lived in Rustington close to the beach. The beach was covered in pebbles and when we went down to swim, we had to wear rubber slippers into the water to protect our feet. Poppa George had been a policeman but in his retirement he spent all his time in his garden where he grew the most amazing vegetables.
When we eventually had our first car, fondly known as Puffing Bertha because of the difficulty she had going up hills, we used to go down to see Nana and Poppa about once a month. I was horribly car sick so was dosed up with something called avomine. Avomine could only be bought on prescription if it was to be used by a human but if Mum told the pharmacist it was for the dog, she could get it without bothering to go to the doctor first. It made me incredibly sleepy and I would sleep the whole way to Rustington (about 90 minutes), yawn my way through the day, and then sleep all the way home again!
When we were with Nana and Poppa we would always go and help pick fresh vegetables for lunch and then sit and shuck the peas (eating more than we put in the bowl). I can also remember the tomatoes growing in the glass green house had so much flavour and were so sweet. Poppa loved yellow flowers because they reminded him of sunshine so the garden was full of marigolds etc. There was a putting hole in the centre of the lawn and we would spend hours trying to get a hole in one. Dad used to complain about Poppa George and get irritated with certain things he did so it highly amused me as Dad himself got older, that he became more and more like his own father. Probably something that happens to most of us!
Some Background Information from Trish
Poppa George Frederick Sorrell was a policeman in Oxford and then London. During the war he went back to the police in Tolworth. He’d retired from the police in his 40s and worked for the AA until the war. He married Win in 1916.
George’s parents were Frederick Sorrell and Annie Emma Rolls. Frederick was superintendent and deputy chief constable of Oxfordshire. Dad did not see much of his grandfather but saw more of his grandmother who, like Nana Win, was very round.
Win’s parents ran a grocer’s shop in Colchester. Gramps (Tony) used to help in the shop and sold 5 Woodbine cigarettes for 1/2penny. Her father was a lovely man and her mother was small and birdlike. He died first and she lived with Win and George at Raeburn Ave until the war when she went to live with a spinster niece in Colchester. They had 3 kids, Nancy, Win and Frank.
Trish's memories
I remember they always came for Xmas, as well as Auntie Alice, which meant we were very squished in the small house. I remember sharing Mum’s single bed with her. One year she was very distressed because a freak snowstorm just after Xmas meant all “the oldies” had to stay an extra day or two because public transport shut down.
On Xmas Eve Nana and Poppa helped us write our list of wishes for Father Christmas (never known as Santa in our day) which we then put on the fire so the ashes would be carried up the chimney ready for his arrival. It was a Xmas day tradition that we had lunch in the middle of the day so Mum was up early putting the turkey in the oven.
Jill and I couldn’t hurry the oldies enough till they were all ready to open presents. Then Poppa always took us for a walk round the neighbourhood (I’m sure to get us out of Mum’s way as she cooked) and we would rate all the gardens we passed on a score of 1-10! After plenty of wine and port with the meal and listening to the Queen’s annual address all the adults would then fall asleep in the pm which Jill and I found very boring!
It was Nana and Poppa who persuaded Mum and Dad to let us have a dog for Xmas. However we were convinced our gift was a grocery store set and we’d even decided who was to be shopkeeper/purchaser first. We were told that because it was in such a big box we would get it Xmas eve. Instead Dad walked in the room with Chippy in his coat pocket she was so tiny. That Xmas we thought she was asleep behind Nan’s feet but really she was chewing a hole in the back of her brand new slippers!
I adored my grandparents and they certainly adored us back. Dad says he was almost embarrassingly adored by Poppa as his only son, so he was relieved when that devotion was transferred to us after our birth. Poppa was rarely without his beloved pipe. I remember him carrying us piggyback to and from the beach.
They had a wooden beach hut there where we could change and store lawn chairs, toys etc. I remember crabbing in the rock pools at low tide. The waves could get quite rough at high tide and then there was no sand on the beach but we could play cricket on the grassy area behind the beach. I don’t remember either grandparent actually coming in the water with us. Nana was a large woman and very soft to cuddle up to as we snuggled under home knit woolly blankets on the couch to watch TV. She taught me to knit and I can still remember the mantra of needle through, wool over, pull the needle back and push the wool off!
They never drove or owned a car so we would walk to the beach but Poppa insisted on lunch being the main meal of the day, at exactly 1pm so we had to come back to the house then and return to the beach afterwards. Nana apparently never challenged him. Dad remembers dessert was always stewed apple and custard! She could be brusque at times and I remember the resentment I felt at being given little sympathy after being stung by a wasp.
They both played bridge, although Nana confessed to me that she thought she was the better player so she didn’t always want to partner George! She continued to play until her death and considered that walking to and from the club and the game itself kept her body and brain active. However she was not a particularly physical woman and I don’t remember her taking an active role in the garden. Poppa lived in his garden. It was a double sized lot so lots of room for his veggies. We helped dig up potatoes, squish butterfly eggs on his cabbages, and loved the tiny tomatoes in his greenhouse. He had a shed full of tobacco boxes he used to store nails, odd pieces of string, etc. Nana was sure he also had money hidden in them too, so I hope somebody checked after he died. He always said thieves wouldn’t find valuables if they were hidden in full view in places such as the toes of slippers. Apparently they left money in tins under the coal in the fireplace too! They had a huge row of dahlias which we got to deadhead during our visits. We went once a month once we got the car. There was a sunroom along the back of the house and a huge hydrangea plant by the back door where Nana would empty the tealeaves from the pot (no tea bags for her!) She said the acid in the leaves turned the flowers pink or blue, I don’t remember which!
Poppa died first. He died very peacefully in his sleep but on autopsy was found to have very severe cardiac disease. He never complained of chest pain and was digging in his garden till he died. Nana then moved into a 6plex apartment complex until her death. Again she was chatting to a neighbor in the morning and appeared fine. Jill and I didn’t go to either funeral and I have no idea where they were buried, or more likely their ashes were scattered.
They had false teeth which they took out at night and left in a jar in the kitchen, much to Jill and my amusement. Poppa also took senna pod daily, so there was a glass of brownish liquid on the kitchen window sill with the pod in it. I remember sitting on his lap at breakfast as a little kid. He would cut his toast into tiny squares then turn his head away as he lifted each piece, saying he’d heard a little bird, and I’d eat his toast out of his fingers before he turned back.
While Nana was widowed I spent a week alone with her over the summer holidays (Jill was already working by then). She arranged day trips to the vaudeville type theatre in Worthing, and we had a wonderful time together. She died shortly after I started at physio school, but I remember her excitement when I met a promising young guy at one of my first student dances. She was looking forward to updates!
As a young woman she and her sister Nancy ran a high class hat shop. Poppa actually dated Nancy before Win. He called them thunder and lightning as Win was solid and calm whereas Nancy was highly strung and slimmer. He was a policeman in Tooting Bec South London when Dad was born. He had severe asthma as a baby and Nana told me of exhausting times when she sat up all night with him in a steamy bathroom to help his breathing. At one point she thought he’d died and she says she tossed him onto the bed thinking she was almost relieved that finally she could get some sleep, when he started crying again obviously still alive!
They owned the house at 175 Raeburn Ave that Jill and I grew up in. I don’t know if they gave or sold it to Mum and Dad after the war when they moved to Rustington. No wonder we knew all the families in the street so well as Dad had lived amongst them for much of his childhood. People didn’t move much then.
Although both Nana and Poppa had siblings I never remember meeting or hearing about any extended family on the Sorrell side. I know George’s father was also a policemen, and they teased that there was also a gypsy Jack Sorrell in the area. Fact or fiction I have no idea!
Story written by Poppa George
click to enlarge
Mum's Memories of Nana Win and Poppa George
My paternal grandparents used to come and spend every Christmas with us and we would travel up to London to meet them and then we would all go to a pantomime or show. We would walk down Oxford Street on the way to the theatre, looking at the brightly decorated shops. One evening I grabbed grandpa’s hand to show him something special only to find it was not grandpa’s hand but a stranger’s. I can still remember feeling so totally mortified! It’s strange how something so unimportant can affect one for so long!
Nana Win and Poppa George lived in Rustington close to the beach. The beach was covered in pebbles and when we went down to swim, we had to wear rubber slippers into the water to protect our feet. Poppa George had been a policeman but in his retirement he spent all his time in his garden where he grew the most amazing vegetables.
When we eventually had our first car, fondly known as Puffing Bertha because of the difficulty she had going up hills, we used to go down to see Nana and Poppa about once a month. I was horribly car sick so was dosed up with something called avomine. Avomine could only be bought on prescription if it was to be used by a human but if Mum told the pharmacist it was for the dog, she could get it without bothering to go to the doctor first. It made me incredibly sleepy and I would sleep the whole way to Rustington (about 90 minutes), yawn my way through the day, and then sleep all the way home again!
When we were with Nana and Poppa we would always go and help pick fresh vegetables for lunch and then sit and shuck the peas (eating more than we put in the bowl). I can also remember the tomatoes growing in the glass green house had so much flavour and were so sweet. Poppa loved yellow flowers because they reminded him of sunshine so the garden was full of marigolds etc. There was a putting hole in the centre of the lawn and we would spend hours trying to get a hole in one. Dad used to complain about Poppa George and get irritated with certain things he did so it highly amused me as Dad himself got older, that he became more and more like his own father. Probably something that happens to most of us!
Some Background Information from Trish
Poppa George Frederick Sorrell was a policeman in Oxford and then London. During the war he went back to the police in Tolworth. He’d retired from the police in his 40s and worked for the AA until the war. He married Win in 1916.
George’s parents were Frederick Sorrell and Annie Emma Rolls. Frederick was superintendent and deputy chief constable of Oxfordshire. Dad did not see much of his grandfather but saw more of his grandmother who, like Nana Win, was very round.
Win’s parents ran a grocer’s shop in Colchester. Gramps (Tony) used to help in the shop and sold 5 Woodbine cigarettes for 1/2penny. Her father was a lovely man and her mother was small and birdlike. He died first and she lived with Win and George at Raeburn Ave until the war when she went to live with a spinster niece in Colchester. They had 3 kids, Nancy, Win and Frank.
Trish's memories
I remember they always came for Xmas, as well as Auntie Alice, which meant we were very squished in the small house. I remember sharing Mum’s single bed with her. One year she was very distressed because a freak snowstorm just after Xmas meant all “the oldies” had to stay an extra day or two because public transport shut down.
On Xmas Eve Nana and Poppa helped us write our list of wishes for Father Christmas (never known as Santa in our day) which we then put on the fire so the ashes would be carried up the chimney ready for his arrival. It was a Xmas day tradition that we had lunch in the middle of the day so Mum was up early putting the turkey in the oven.
Jill and I couldn’t hurry the oldies enough till they were all ready to open presents. Then Poppa always took us for a walk round the neighbourhood (I’m sure to get us out of Mum’s way as she cooked) and we would rate all the gardens we passed on a score of 1-10! After plenty of wine and port with the meal and listening to the Queen’s annual address all the adults would then fall asleep in the pm which Jill and I found very boring!
It was Nana and Poppa who persuaded Mum and Dad to let us have a dog for Xmas. However we were convinced our gift was a grocery store set and we’d even decided who was to be shopkeeper/purchaser first. We were told that because it was in such a big box we would get it Xmas eve. Instead Dad walked in the room with Chippy in his coat pocket she was so tiny. That Xmas we thought she was asleep behind Nan’s feet but really she was chewing a hole in the back of her brand new slippers!
I adored my grandparents and they certainly adored us back. Dad says he was almost embarrassingly adored by Poppa as his only son, so he was relieved when that devotion was transferred to us after our birth. Poppa was rarely without his beloved pipe. I remember him carrying us piggyback to and from the beach.
They had a wooden beach hut there where we could change and store lawn chairs, toys etc. I remember crabbing in the rock pools at low tide. The waves could get quite rough at high tide and then there was no sand on the beach but we could play cricket on the grassy area behind the beach. I don’t remember either grandparent actually coming in the water with us. Nana was a large woman and very soft to cuddle up to as we snuggled under home knit woolly blankets on the couch to watch TV. She taught me to knit and I can still remember the mantra of needle through, wool over, pull the needle back and push the wool off!
They never drove or owned a car so we would walk to the beach but Poppa insisted on lunch being the main meal of the day, at exactly 1pm so we had to come back to the house then and return to the beach afterwards. Nana apparently never challenged him. Dad remembers dessert was always stewed apple and custard! She could be brusque at times and I remember the resentment I felt at being given little sympathy after being stung by a wasp.
They both played bridge, although Nana confessed to me that she thought she was the better player so she didn’t always want to partner George! She continued to play until her death and considered that walking to and from the club and the game itself kept her body and brain active. However she was not a particularly physical woman and I don’t remember her taking an active role in the garden. Poppa lived in his garden. It was a double sized lot so lots of room for his veggies. We helped dig up potatoes, squish butterfly eggs on his cabbages, and loved the tiny tomatoes in his greenhouse. He had a shed full of tobacco boxes he used to store nails, odd pieces of string, etc. Nana was sure he also had money hidden in them too, so I hope somebody checked after he died. He always said thieves wouldn’t find valuables if they were hidden in full view in places such as the toes of slippers. Apparently they left money in tins under the coal in the fireplace too! They had a huge row of dahlias which we got to deadhead during our visits. We went once a month once we got the car. There was a sunroom along the back of the house and a huge hydrangea plant by the back door where Nana would empty the tealeaves from the pot (no tea bags for her!) She said the acid in the leaves turned the flowers pink or blue, I don’t remember which!
Poppa died first. He died very peacefully in his sleep but on autopsy was found to have very severe cardiac disease. He never complained of chest pain and was digging in his garden till he died. Nana then moved into a 6plex apartment complex until her death. Again she was chatting to a neighbor in the morning and appeared fine. Jill and I didn’t go to either funeral and I have no idea where they were buried, or more likely their ashes were scattered.
They had false teeth which they took out at night and left in a jar in the kitchen, much to Jill and my amusement. Poppa also took senna pod daily, so there was a glass of brownish liquid on the kitchen window sill with the pod in it. I remember sitting on his lap at breakfast as a little kid. He would cut his toast into tiny squares then turn his head away as he lifted each piece, saying he’d heard a little bird, and I’d eat his toast out of his fingers before he turned back.
While Nana was widowed I spent a week alone with her over the summer holidays (Jill was already working by then). She arranged day trips to the vaudeville type theatre in Worthing, and we had a wonderful time together. She died shortly after I started at physio school, but I remember her excitement when I met a promising young guy at one of my first student dances. She was looking forward to updates!
As a young woman she and her sister Nancy ran a high class hat shop. Poppa actually dated Nancy before Win. He called them thunder and lightning as Win was solid and calm whereas Nancy was highly strung and slimmer. He was a policeman in Tooting Bec South London when Dad was born. He had severe asthma as a baby and Nana told me of exhausting times when she sat up all night with him in a steamy bathroom to help his breathing. At one point she thought he’d died and she says she tossed him onto the bed thinking she was almost relieved that finally she could get some sleep, when he started crying again obviously still alive!
They owned the house at 175 Raeburn Ave that Jill and I grew up in. I don’t know if they gave or sold it to Mum and Dad after the war when they moved to Rustington. No wonder we knew all the families in the street so well as Dad had lived amongst them for much of his childhood. People didn’t move much then.
Although both Nana and Poppa had siblings I never remember meeting or hearing about any extended family on the Sorrell side. I know George’s father was also a policemen, and they teased that there was also a gypsy Jack Sorrell in the area. Fact or fiction I have no idea!
Story written by Poppa George
click to enlarge
Related
Mum's memories of her life to date
Mum has written a wonderful and to me, extremely special, account of her memories of her life. It includes lots of information from her childhood that I'd never heard about before. And also lots of memories of other people in the family. What she has written is extremely precious to me. I treasure family memories more and more as I get older. Mum's memories are beautifully written and at times very funny and at times, sad. Our family has had its shares of ups and downs. Like any family, I suppose. Anyway, mum's memories to date (and of course, hopefully there will be many, many more years of memories to come) are now preserved for posterity and I am sure that Sam and Matthew will be very interested to read them as they grow older and like me, want to know more about the lives of their family.
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13 October 2010
Auntie Lottie (1878 - 1984)
Auntie Lottie (Gran's dad's sister) was an important part of Gran and Gramp's life and that of mum. She used to spend Christmases with the Sorrells and Gran was very close to her and gave her much support as she grew older.
"Auntie Lottie" was a name I can remember hearing a lot when I was young and that is not suprising as she was quite a remarkable lady. Not least because she lived to 105 years old. She was never married which maybe partly explains it! Research has shown that spinsters tend to outlive married women and married men tend to outlive life long bachelors.
I got to meet Auntie Lottie when we visited England when I was 6 years old and there are some lovely photos below of the whole family together.
Here is some information about Auntie Lottie including mum's account and a eulogy.
Mum's memories of Auntie Lottie
Auntie Lottie, who was Charles’ sister, did play a role in our lives. She was a spinster and lived in Hammersmith with another lady called Auntie Mabs who was a friend from church. Lottie left school at the age of 12 but was always determined to make her own way in the world and did a number of small jobs before joining Harrods where she became the manager of the restaurant and worked there throughout the war.
When she turned 100 she received a huge bouquet of flowers from Mohamed Al-Fayed the current owner. Lottie never married (although there was talk of a romance with a curate) but due to so many young men dying in the 1914 – 18 war there were a large number of spinsters in her generation.
Lottie was an amazing lady and was still visiting the sick through her church well into her 80’s and 90’s and despite her fingers being completely misshapen due to arthritis; she continued to knit vests for orphan children. I doubt if any baby actually wore the vests – they were full of holes – but she never gave in.
She was widely read and always had comments on the latest world situation and current state of politics. She held very strong opinions and supported “votes for women” and was active as a volunteer Red Cross nurse during the 1st world war. She held strong Christian views and often found herself at odds with the vicar or the church on some point of principle and was always convinced that she was right!
Trish's Account
Lottie who worked at Harrod’s, lived at home and helped in the pub although she never drank a sip of alcohol in her life, not even the glass of champagne on her 100th birthday. Lottie never married but was very fond of a curate. She said there were a very limited number of young men in her generation because of all the deaths in WW1, the Boer and Crimea wars.
She lived with her mother and when Charles had the pub they lived in the flat above it, where their mother died in 1914. Although Lottie worked at Harrod’s she wanted to own her own business. Charles (Gran's dad) set her up in an empty store next to his pub where she sold stationary and books and had a lending library. She met Mabel (Mabs) White through church and they took holidays and religious retreats together. After WW2 they rented a house together in Highgate after Lottie sold the business at age 70.
Auntie Lottie’s Eulogy
1878 –1984
Charlotte Ellen Bishop (usually known as Lottie) was born on the 21st June 1878 and so would have been 106 years of age had she lived for another six weeks. She was born in London, to working parents, the youngest and only girl in a family of five.
She had a tough physical constitution and an abundant supply of energy; she was determined to make her way in the world. After leaving school, at about 12 years of age, she did a number of small jobs before joining the staff of Harrod’s Departmental Store where she began to rise to fame under the guidance of the Burbridge family.
When the restaurant was opened, Lottie became the manageress and enjoyed a very happy period of her life. She maintained life long friendships with many of the “girls” on her staff and was saddened, as these links were broken 50 and 60 years later, as she outlived them all.
Tales of her time at Harrods are legion and it is evident that, although days were then hard for working people, there was a lot of true happiness. As an example, on the “Relief of Mafeking” night, the whole restaurant went wild and dancing on the tables included the astonished waitresses. Sir William Burbridge was not amused and sacked all concerned the next morning. It was only the pleading and cajoling of Lottie which saved their jobs.
Lottie left Harrods in 1917 to set up a stationers business where she was to remain for 33 years until she retired in 1950. The spent the first 12 years of her retirement on the Holly Lodge Estate at Highgate and then, at the age of 84, went to Palmers Green where she spent the last 22 years of her life.
The stationers business in Highgate was well known. Run on old fashioned principles, highly polished and much dusted, nothing was too much trouble to satisfy customers; many of whom came as much for a chat as for a packet of envelopes. Lottie had a great capacity for making lasting friendships and many of her friends of later years were first met as customers in her shop.
She could have been called “old fashioned” but she was always abreast of the day’s news and thinking and was fortunate in that her mental capacity was retained until she lapsed into unconsciousness at the end of her life.
Of very strong opinions, she supported “votes for women” and was an active volunteer Red Cross nurse during the 1914 – 18 war during the course of which she again made many lasting friendships.
Her firmly held Christian views were a tower of strength to her throughout her life but, when she found herself at odds with her Church or vicar on some point of principle, she was apt to conclude that only she was right.
She was a great supporter of the “family” and a lover of children who all responded to her. She never married, implying that this was due to the carnage of the 1914-18 war.
The period of her life from 1963 onwards was spent living entirely independently. For her the so called “Welfare State” was akin to the “Poor Law” of her childhood and was to be avoided at all costs. She was over 100 years of age before the first “home help” was allowed in and, even then, they were never encouraged to do very much.
She enjoyed her later life seeing her many friends and, when her mobility became poor (a fact she never admitted) it was quite astonishing the number of folk of all ages who would make their way to Palmers Green for a cup of tea and a chat.
A tough, strong minded lady who did much for others during the active part of her life, she enjoyed the friendships forged in earlier days during her later years.
"Auntie Lottie" was a name I can remember hearing a lot when I was young and that is not suprising as she was quite a remarkable lady. Not least because she lived to 105 years old. She was never married which maybe partly explains it! Research has shown that spinsters tend to outlive married women and married men tend to outlive life long bachelors.
I got to meet Auntie Lottie when we visited England when I was 6 years old and there are some lovely photos below of the whole family together.
Here is some information about Auntie Lottie including mum's account and a eulogy.
Mum's memories of Auntie Lottie
Auntie Lottie, who was Charles’ sister, did play a role in our lives. She was a spinster and lived in Hammersmith with another lady called Auntie Mabs who was a friend from church. Lottie left school at the age of 12 but was always determined to make her own way in the world and did a number of small jobs before joining Harrods where she became the manager of the restaurant and worked there throughout the war.
When she turned 100 she received a huge bouquet of flowers from Mohamed Al-Fayed the current owner. Lottie never married (although there was talk of a romance with a curate) but due to so many young men dying in the 1914 – 18 war there were a large number of spinsters in her generation.
Lottie was an amazing lady and was still visiting the sick through her church well into her 80’s and 90’s and despite her fingers being completely misshapen due to arthritis; she continued to knit vests for orphan children. I doubt if any baby actually wore the vests – they were full of holes – but she never gave in.
She was widely read and always had comments on the latest world situation and current state of politics. She held very strong opinions and supported “votes for women” and was active as a volunteer Red Cross nurse during the 1st world war. She held strong Christian views and often found herself at odds with the vicar or the church on some point of principle and was always convinced that she was right!
Trish's Account
Lottie who worked at Harrod’s, lived at home and helped in the pub although she never drank a sip of alcohol in her life, not even the glass of champagne on her 100th birthday. Lottie never married but was very fond of a curate. She said there were a very limited number of young men in her generation because of all the deaths in WW1, the Boer and Crimea wars.
She lived with her mother and when Charles had the pub they lived in the flat above it, where their mother died in 1914. Although Lottie worked at Harrod’s she wanted to own her own business. Charles (Gran's dad) set her up in an empty store next to his pub where she sold stationary and books and had a lending library. She met Mabel (Mabs) White through church and they took holidays and religious retreats together. After WW2 they rented a house together in Highgate after Lottie sold the business at age 70.
Auntie Lottie’s Eulogy
1878 –1984
Charlotte Ellen Bishop (usually known as Lottie) was born on the 21st June 1878 and so would have been 106 years of age had she lived for another six weeks. She was born in London, to working parents, the youngest and only girl in a family of five.
She had a tough physical constitution and an abundant supply of energy; she was determined to make her way in the world. After leaving school, at about 12 years of age, she did a number of small jobs before joining the staff of Harrod’s Departmental Store where she began to rise to fame under the guidance of the Burbridge family.
When the restaurant was opened, Lottie became the manageress and enjoyed a very happy period of her life. She maintained life long friendships with many of the “girls” on her staff and was saddened, as these links were broken 50 and 60 years later, as she outlived them all.
Tales of her time at Harrods are legion and it is evident that, although days were then hard for working people, there was a lot of true happiness. As an example, on the “Relief of Mafeking” night, the whole restaurant went wild and dancing on the tables included the astonished waitresses. Sir William Burbridge was not amused and sacked all concerned the next morning. It was only the pleading and cajoling of Lottie which saved their jobs.
Lottie left Harrods in 1917 to set up a stationers business where she was to remain for 33 years until she retired in 1950. The spent the first 12 years of her retirement on the Holly Lodge Estate at Highgate and then, at the age of 84, went to Palmers Green where she spent the last 22 years of her life.
The stationers business in Highgate was well known. Run on old fashioned principles, highly polished and much dusted, nothing was too much trouble to satisfy customers; many of whom came as much for a chat as for a packet of envelopes. Lottie had a great capacity for making lasting friendships and many of her friends of later years were first met as customers in her shop.
She could have been called “old fashioned” but she was always abreast of the day’s news and thinking and was fortunate in that her mental capacity was retained until she lapsed into unconsciousness at the end of her life.
Of very strong opinions, she supported “votes for women” and was an active volunteer Red Cross nurse during the 1914 – 18 war during the course of which she again made many lasting friendships.
Her firmly held Christian views were a tower of strength to her throughout her life but, when she found herself at odds with her Church or vicar on some point of principle, she was apt to conclude that only she was right.
She was a great supporter of the “family” and a lover of children who all responded to her. She never married, implying that this was due to the carnage of the 1914-18 war.
The period of her life from 1963 onwards was spent living entirely independently. For her the so called “Welfare State” was akin to the “Poor Law” of her childhood and was to be avoided at all costs. She was over 100 years of age before the first “home help” was allowed in and, even then, they were never encouraged to do very much.
She enjoyed her later life seeing her many friends and, when her mobility became poor (a fact she never admitted) it was quite astonishing the number of folk of all ages who would make their way to Palmers Green for a cup of tea and a chat.
A tough, strong minded lady who did much for others during the active part of her life, she enjoyed the friendships forged in earlier days during her later years.
Classes I've taught at Kaplan
Teaching English is a little like backpacking and also like tour leading. You meet new people all the time, create connections (some even quite deep) but invariably it comes time to say goodbye - and often quite quickly. People coming into and out of your life in quick succession, touching it briefly, and then moving on. And invariably you quickly lose contact, except in very exceptional cases.
As a backpacker, this sometimes used to make me a little sad. But as a teacher, at least you have the benefit of knowing that you have contributed, even if only in a small way, to your students moving towards there life dreams. Most of the students I teach are young and full of aspirations as to what they want to do once they can speak English better. And it's wonderful to help them move in that direction. So although it's a constant cycle of hello's and goodbye's, it does not feel empty. The opposite in fact.
Intermediate (October)
Pre-Intermediate (September)
As a backpacker, this sometimes used to make me a little sad. But as a teacher, at least you have the benefit of knowing that you have contributed, even if only in a small way, to your students moving towards there life dreams. Most of the students I teach are young and full of aspirations as to what they want to do once they can speak English better. And it's wonderful to help them move in that direction. So although it's a constant cycle of hello's and goodbye's, it does not feel empty. The opposite in fact.
Intermediate (October)
Pre-Intermediate (September)
12 October 2010
Student isms
I asked my students in lower intermediate class to write me a short essay on their "ideal holiday."
Jisu, who is a lovely guy from Korea, wrote the following:
He later went on to mention activities like surfing, suntanning and drinking beer - but that's not what first came to mind! He got me really chuckling.
I shared it with my fellow teachers and that got us all talking and sharing other "studentisms" that had come up in their classes.
Here are some of the goodies:
A letter from Bella to a teacher:
Written in an Intermediate writing test:
When told to finish the sentence: "After finding a dinosaur in the street...", Chung Wan wrote:
Written by a lower intermediate:
And another:
In an EAP class:
By a French student
When asked to fill in a grammar exercise using the pictures as a prompt:
Jisu, who is a lovely guy from Korea, wrote the following:
"My ideal holiday is go to the beach with my girlfriend and play with her there."
He later went on to mention activities like surfing, suntanning and drinking beer - but that's not what first came to mind! He got me really chuckling.
I shared it with my fellow teachers and that got us all talking and sharing other "studentisms" that had come up in their classes.
Here are some of the goodies:
A letter from Bella to a teacher:
I was heard lots about you before I get in this class. Do you remember EAP class that you taught before? There were one gay in your class is my boyfriend.
Written in an Intermediate writing test:
I miss my family. I especially miss my son who is a dog.
When told to finish the sentence: "After finding a dinosaur in the street...", Chung Wan wrote:
...I stopped doing drugs.
Written by a lower intermediate:
I always love her more and more. I want her to know my hot heart every day.
And another:
After getting a bachelor, I'm going to go USA to get a scholar.
In an EAP class:
Kaplan has a lot of other cuntry student.
By a French student
The aim of travel is simple, after 6 months I should speak English as Elizabeth II
When asked to fill in a grammar exercise using the pictures as a prompt:
11 October 2010
This cartoon always causes much hilarity amongst us English teachers...
It's just so spot on! It's exactly what we experience on a regular basis when trying to determine what level a student should start at...
3 October 2010
Ella and Mack re-united again
I went to visit Brendan and Eva and Ella again after not seeing them for far too long. As usual, Ella and Mack got on like a house on fire. Mack was delighted to have such an eager ball thrower.
30 September 2010
Letters and gifts on my 40th birthday
Gift from Jo
Jo's beautiful pillow case that she sent to me on my birthday.
Letter from Jo
Dear Graeme
I hope that you have a fantastic 40th birthday today. May this be the start of a new chapter in your life that is filled with love, wonder, excitement, passion, creativity and contentment. You deserve every good thing that comes into your life!
Thanks for being such a special brother. You were always the patient one, giving me gentle encouragement and support when I needed it. You are going to make / and already are a fantastic teacher. You had it in you from many years back.
We shared so much together growing up. Sunday morning escapades, lots of laughs, secrets and chocolates eaten on the sly. I remember drinking milk with you, then spinning round making ourselves so dizzy and laughing so much that it ended up coming out of my nose!!! Christmas with the Culley's, then the Rusconi's, camping trips that I was jealous not to be able to come on and spending hours playing lego, marbles and Marco Polo in the pool. I remember Sunday roasts"with" "Granny' Doris, "white"cheese sandwhiches eaten at Muizenberg with grandpa and waiting in Dad's car in the parking lot while he combed his hair after surfing - while 10 drivers waited for his spot!!
Dinners to Casanova with Granny and Grandpa Freeway and eating Italian kisses. The joy of cycling round to their Epworth Road house and sleeping over, Granny's crispy roast potatoes and lumpy custard. Mom, who was always there for us, making sure we had everything we needed. Friday nights at Youth and then all the lovely, hysterically funny letters you wrote to me while I was overseas I remember your face through the hospital glass when you saw Sam for the first time. I love the fact that you wear your heart on your sleeve and show emotion - both happy and sad.
My only wish is that lived closer together and got to see more of each other but thank goodness for skype, e-mail and of course picasa!!! Once again, we will be thinking of you all day and I will even drink a dinky champagne in your honour.
With all my love
Joey
Poem from Mum
27 September 2010
My favourite little models
Ingrid and Andreas celebrated their house warming last weekend. Their kiddies are as gorgeous as ever. Anna loves the camera. Sebastian does not. So here is smiling Anna and a slightly pensive Sebastian.
3 September 2010
Nature and wildlife
Nature has been for me, for as long as I remember, a source of solace, inspiration, adventure, and delight; a home, a teacher, a companion. Lorraine Anderson
Nature photos
Ode to things I love
Nature posts
- Autumn
- Canyons
- Caves
- Cliffs
- Clouds
- Coast
- Deserts
- Glaciers
- Ice
- Snow
- Lakes
- Mountains
- Nature reserves
- Rainbows
- River and wetland
- Rock pools
- Sculptured rocks
- Sunsets
- Tidal pools
- Sea pools
- Volcanoes
- Waterfalls
- Wonders
Animal posts
- Animals
- Wildlife
- Wild animals seen in the wild
- Australian animals
- Australian wildlife
- South African wildlife
- Baboons
- Cats
- Crabs
- Crocodiles
- Dogs
- Dolphins
- Echidna
- Elephants
- Fish
- Frogs
- Giraffe
- Horses
- Kangaroos
- Koalas
- Leopards
- Lions
- Meerkats
- Monkeys
- Owls
- Pets
- Rhinos
- Squirrels
- Tigers
- Whales
- Wombats
- Zebras
- Zoos
Reptile posts
Insect posts
Birds
1 September 2010
31 August 2010
Progress (2010)
General
- Dex
- Aussie citizen
Teaching
- A new lease on life.
- Creating lessons, getting passionate again.
Blog
- Blog my life memories
- Inspire mum's memories
Finances
- Foresight to open bank account for Ally
- Getting Investment Frontiers out myself
- Handling financial settlement.
- Spdr fund with Brendan
Purchases
- Bought i-Phone
26 August 2010
I've never seen a Flow Chart described so clearly...
Of course to all my old Volvo friends, this doesn't apply to you! But I thought it was quite a hoot!
.
25 August 2010
Lucas
I went fishing with Doug and Claudia off their boat. Lucas caught a fish within two minutes, I caught nothing in three hours. Go figure. I'm just not much of a fisherman. But its still fun. We got caught in the middle of a big storm so I kept my camera under wraps - but managed to snap a couple of Lucas. He's as adorable as ever .
Andreas and Ingrid's new house
I went round to see Andreas and Ingrid's new home. It is a wonderful family home in French's Forest that ticks all their boxes. They are delighted to be able to settle down into their own home without having to ask permission to knock nails into the walls or give up their weekends house hunting. I just can't believe how fast Anna is growing - she's already walking down steps - with a little help from mum and dad of course.
23 August 2010
Rusty the Hunk of Spunk
Here are some photos that Russel had taken professionally for his dating profile on Cupid
Small Print: Only, joking, they were taken at work. Not sure, how they'll he used, maybe for their corporate site. I think they're wonderful. Capture's Russel's cheeky spirit!
Small Print: Only, joking, they were taken at work. Not sure, how they'll he used, maybe for their corporate site. I think they're wonderful. Capture's Russel's cheeky spirit!
22 August 2010
Bitter Love
Unfortunately I don't think this story is original. I faintly remember reading something with a similar theme when I was young. Hopefully, it'll leave you hanging till the end.
Rupert was a very rich man. He had everything his heart could desire. A penthouse apartment in New York with a view of Central Park. A modern and stylish holiday house right on the coast. The choice of a Ferrari or a Porsche to drive between them. He ate at all the top restaurants. He went to all the right parties. He wore all the latest fashions. And he had a bank account so fat he didn't need to work if he didn't want to. He had all his heart could desire, except for one thing: the woman he wanted. Because the woman he desired and indeed, loved, more than anything else was already married. And she refused to leave her husband for him.
Every time they saw each other, he would beg and plead. It was always the same promise, "Marry me, Wendy, and I'll give you the world." And each time, it was the same reply, "You know I care deeply for you, Rupert. But I can't leave my husband. Since his accident, he's become totally dependent on me. It would kill him if I left him. And I couldn't live with that."
Rupert was used to getting his own way. Usually his money and his power made things easy for him. He felt frustrated and bitter. He loved and desired Wendy. And he knew she desired him too. If it were not for her useless, crippled husband, he could have what he wanted. For once in his life, it seemed, money could not buy him happiness. But, maybe it could. His mind started to work.
Rupert knew that Wendy lived with her husband in a double story house in the suburbs. He knew the house well because sometimes he hid outside and watched them through the windows. He realised this was a clear sign of obsession but he could not help himself. He needed her like he needed oxygen. He knew that Wendy's husband, a university professor before his accident, now spent almost all of his time lost in research in his study on the second floor . He also had a fair idea of Wendy's comings and goings. He knew, for example, that she attended Yoga classes on Tuesday nights from 7:30 to 9:00 p.m. The plan in Rupert's mind started to take shape.
Ten minutes later, a small but muscular man sat down next to him. "Are you Mr Smith?" the muscular man asked with a quiet voice. Rupert felt a stab of anxiety pierce his chest. "Yes," he replied.
The man looked at Rupert with a calm stare, "Are you sure you want it done tonight?"
"Yes, I'm sure," said Rupert. "Do it like we said. Let yourself in at 8 p.m. Use these keys. You'll find him on the second floor. Do it quick. I don't want him to suffer. And make sure it looks like a robbery gone wrong."
"It will be done," said the quiet voice. "I'll meet you back here at nine o'clock. I expect you to pay me in full."
Rupert sat in his seat in the bar. Time stood still. He felt too anxious to eat or drink. He sat, lost in his thoughts. Apart from his anxiety, his emotions felt stifled. He felt like he was in someone else's body, somehow dissociated from himself. He stared at his watch, wishing time would pass.
9:00 came and went. Then 9:10. Rupert felt the anxiety writhe like a snake in his stomach. Then suddenly the short, muscular man was back in his seat. And he heard the quiet voice say, "It all went fine. He died quickly and painlessly."
Rupert's shoulders dropped and he breathed out slowly. His relief was tinged with a flickering of elation.
Rupert was a very rich man. He had everything his heart could desire. A penthouse apartment in New York with a view of Central Park. A modern and stylish holiday house right on the coast. The choice of a Ferrari or a Porsche to drive between them. He ate at all the top restaurants. He went to all the right parties. He wore all the latest fashions. And he had a bank account so fat he didn't need to work if he didn't want to. He had all his heart could desire, except for one thing: the woman he wanted. Because the woman he desired and indeed, loved, more than anything else was already married. And she refused to leave her husband for him.
Every time they saw each other, he would beg and plead. It was always the same promise, "Marry me, Wendy, and I'll give you the world." And each time, it was the same reply, "You know I care deeply for you, Rupert. But I can't leave my husband. Since his accident, he's become totally dependent on me. It would kill him if I left him. And I couldn't live with that."
Rupert was used to getting his own way. Usually his money and his power made things easy for him. He felt frustrated and bitter. He loved and desired Wendy. And he knew she desired him too. If it were not for her useless, crippled husband, he could have what he wanted. For once in his life, it seemed, money could not buy him happiness. But, maybe it could. His mind started to work.
Rupert knew that Wendy lived with her husband in a double story house in the suburbs. He knew the house well because sometimes he hid outside and watched them through the windows. He realised this was a clear sign of obsession but he could not help himself. He needed her like he needed oxygen. He knew that Wendy's husband, a university professor before his accident, now spent almost all of his time lost in research in his study on the second floor . He also had a fair idea of Wendy's comings and goings. He knew, for example, that she attended Yoga classes on Tuesday nights from 7:30 to 9:00 p.m. The plan in Rupert's mind started to take shape.
Two weeks later, on a Tuesday night, Rupert, dressed himself in old clothes. He wore a battered baseball cap on his head and several days of stubble on his face. He caught the train to the Bronx. It was a dirty suburb that he knew his rich friends would never think of visiting. He stepped off the train and walked to a crowded, seedy bar called "The Cock and Whistle." He sat at a table at the back of the bar and waited.
Ten minutes later, a small but muscular man sat down next to him. "Are you Mr Smith?" the muscular man asked with a quiet voice. Rupert felt a stab of anxiety pierce his chest. "Yes," he replied.
The man looked at Rupert with a calm stare, "Are you sure you want it done tonight?"
"Yes, I'm sure," said Rupert. "Do it like we said. Let yourself in at 8 p.m. Use these keys. You'll find him on the second floor. Do it quick. I don't want him to suffer. And make sure it looks like a robbery gone wrong."
"It will be done," said the quiet voice. "I'll meet you back here at nine o'clock. I expect you to pay me in full."
Rupert sat in his seat in the bar. Time stood still. He felt too anxious to eat or drink. He sat, lost in his thoughts. Apart from his anxiety, his emotions felt stifled. He felt like he was in someone else's body, somehow dissociated from himself. He stared at his watch, wishing time would pass.
9:00 came and went. Then 9:10. Rupert felt the anxiety writhe like a snake in his stomach. Then suddenly the short, muscular man was back in his seat. And he heard the quiet voice say, "It all went fine. He died quickly and painlessly."
Rupert's shoulders dropped and he breathed out slowly. His relief was tinged with a flickering of elation.
The short, muscular man looked at Rupert with his calm stare and said, "But there was one little problem. After I killed the guy in the study, some woman suddenly came into the room . Said something about coming home early because she was feeling ill. She was pretty surprised to see me, I can tell you. But don't worry, she won't cause any trouble. I killed her too."
