Our Gran - Mildred Jane Crouch (1916-2009)
So, a few weeks ago I spent an afternoon with Auntie Shirley who was born in Surrey a couple of years before the second world war. She is the eldest child of my Gran, and my dad’s eldest sister. She kindly gave me a lot of photographs and memorabilia related to our family history, all of which I will share on this website; it is not just mine to know about, but all of ours. Some of it makes me feel quite tearful, particularly letters sent to Gran from our Grandad in the mid 1950s when he was in hospital dying of lung cancer, and also one he wrote to my dad.
My paternal Gran was Mildred (Millie) Jane Crouch. She's Gran to a lot of us; she had eighteen grandchildren, thirty six (I think?) great grandchildren and numerous great great grandchildren and still going! She has created a dynasty!
Gran was born on 1st March 1916 at Triangle Cottages, Grafty Green, Kent. She was one of four children born to Charles William and Frances Louisa Crouch who were married on Christmas Day 1912. It was quite usual to get married on Christmas Day because it meant the participants could have a few days off work to celebrate the nuptials, and presumably recover from the hangovers!
Charles William Crouch
(1877-1943)
Frances Louisa Weller
(1878-1926)
A long time ago, Gran’s brother Arthur gave me a rolling pin and a bread board that Gran’s mum was given on her wedding day in 1912. I keep it out of the way as I am a bit worried it has wood worm! (it is full of tiny holes and seems to gather saw dust). Anyway, Gran had an older brother Arthur, a younger brother Leslie and a baby sister Alice. Alice died of TB (tuberculosis) in 1923 when Gran was only about 7 years old. Her mother followed with the same illness a few years later, so before Gran had even reached her 11th birthday she was without her mum. As a result, she always confessed to be a rather sad and miserable child; not surprising as she loved her mum dearly and missed her terribly.
Gran died in 2009 but she is by no means forgotten, as she has left her thoughts and feelings on paper to be passed down for future generations of our family to learn a little bit about her life and what she was like. When she died, I was given her diaries. I have a copy from 1966, and then copies spanning a twenty five year period from 1980 onwards. I was hoping to get a bit of family gossip from those diaries. However, all I have managed to find out is how many times a person can clean somebody else’s windows in a quarter of a century; and if anyone needs to know what the weather was doing on any day within those years, then I am the person to ask! The most interesting tales are during 1966 when Uncle Colin seemed to attend a lot of parties at 'his club' and on one occasion had to have a strong talking to by his big brother Roger! I wonder if it had any effect.
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Fortunately, some years before she died, I asked Gran to write her ‘memoirs’ for me because I would like something from her for the family history, and she duly obliged in. What follows are some extracts from those memoirs which she wrote in 2000.
Gran's Childhood Memories
Most of my earliest memories seem to be centred around my mum. Probably because at the age of ten and a half I no longer had her. She died of TB (consumption it was called then). She was away in various sanatoriums for short spells, so when she was home, they were considered ‘red letter’ days.
I was not a very good child and can remember getting smacked more than once, and sent up to the bedroom, but I didn’t mind as I had books and things to amuse myself with. After a little while mum would call up and say, ‘are you going to be a good girl now Mildred?’ ‘Yes,’ I’d answer and be allowed back down.
I had two brothers, one older and one younger. Sadly, the younger one cannot remember his mum at all. The older one was three years older than I was and helped mum a lot. He used to cook and help dad when mum had to go away, and though we used to fight at times, I loved him and used to look up to him. He was my big brother. I remember once I had the tooth ache, and he had to take me to the doctors (there was no dentist in the little hamlet where we lived). We had to walk three miles each way; no buses then and mum was unable to take me. The doctor yanked it out with a pair of tweezers; not very nice at all.
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Here are some pictures of me with my big brother Arthur and my little brother Les. The first one is taken about 1922 and the second one possibly a year or so later.
Another thing I remember, and not a happy one, is the three of us being sent to our Aunty’s when mum was away. We hated going though they were kind enough, but there was no real warmth, and I must admit, I was not an easy child to get close to. There was one thing I did like and that was the school where I seemed to fit in quite well. Another of my memories, and one of the happiest ones, was when dad arrived to take us home because mum was home. How well I can remember the feeling of utter relief and happiness I felt. My one regret was not being able to show it in an outward manner; but I expect being my mum she knew.
Another very happy memory is of us all going out for a walk, perhaps on Sunday evenings. We were a normal happy family. I haven’t said much about dad, but he was a lovely man. Many times, in the light evenings, he would take me for a stroll around the lanes. We’d go birds nesting, and pick flowers, then we’d visit one of his usual pubs and I’d sit outside. I never heard my dad swear, and we weren’t allowed to either, or say anything crude, even though he was a man’s man, a bricklayer by trade. If he was out at work, which he often was, he’d turn his hand to anything. Although we were hard up most of the time, we never went hungry.
[The 'Who'd a Thought It' Pub in Grafty Green, near Lenham in Kent. I visited it, probably in the 1990's, for a meal with Mike, mum and dad, and Gran and Uncle Arthur and was told our Great Grandad (Charles William Crouch) built the room on the left where we sat and ate]
There is one memory I don’t like to think about, and am ashamed of, but I’m going to divulge it. I have not made any mention of the last child mum had, simply because I only remember one instance. She died at the age of three. I think she was born with TB. My memory is of my mum taking me to see her lying on the bed. She had a flower in her hands which were folded across her stomach. I remember, to my shame, saying to my mum ‘now she’s dead can I have her for a dolly?’ I don’t remember being chastised, and of course it is only when I was older that I realised how my poor mother must have felt.
When things were normal; by that I mean when our mum was home and able to cope, life was grand. We three would wander to our hearts content, free as the birds in the air; no traffic then except horses and cows. We lived in a little hamlet called Grafty Green, nine miles from Maidstone; not a car in sight. We used to play hopscotch and spin our tops on the road outside the cottage where we lived. It was just a rough unmade road. The only disturbance we got was when the occasional horse and cart came along. Life was much slower then. We made our own amusement. Sometimes, when it was dark in the wintertime, we would be allowed out. We would play ‘Dick Dick show your light’ until we were called in to bed. There was no TV or even wireless then, but there were always books to read, and of course board games like ludo and draughts, and I can remember dad showing me how to play patience. They were happy days.
Sometimes, when we were out just wandering, we would decide to go visiting. We usually ended up on our Great Aunts’ doorstep. They were two old ladies; Eliza and Minnie Mackelden, who were related to the Weller family. Mum’s maiden name was Weller. I loved going there. They were very kind to us, but I think the main attraction for me was they had the ‘Daily Mirror’ which had a comic strip of ‘Pip and Squeak and Wilfred’ which I loved. I don’t remember any papers at our house except ‘The News of the World’ which we weren’t allowed to read; now I can understand why!
[Pip, Squeak and Wilfred - started appearing in the Children's section of the Daily Mirror from 1919 onwards]
We had various relations around, though being a child they had very little impression on me. The ones I remember most are two uncles; Wallace and Henry, and their wives. They were mum's brothers. Uncle Henry was a jolly man, always smiling and happy, but Uncle Wallie was just the opposite. In fact, I don’t ever remember Uncle Wallie speaking to us children, though they had four of their own. We had a lot of cousins but the only one I ever liked was Uncle Henry’s eldest, Hilda. She was two years older than me and full of the joys of spring; always ready for a joke, she took after her dad whom she adored. Sadly, her mum died when she was only six years old. Her stepmother wasn’t very nice to her; she got hit with the copper stick once, though looking back she might have been a bit of a handful at times. We still keep in touch and write every week. She’s never lost her sense of humour. Her letters can always cheer me up. She is now eighty six years old and cannot get about much but still makes light of everything.”
Uncle Wallie
Wallace Carter Weller
(1877-1962)
Uncle Henry
Albert Henry Weller
(1881-1974)
Cousin Hilda
Hilda Frances Weller
(1913-2000)
Every so often a stranger would appear on the scene. It was a housekeeper, come to take over on the occasions when mum was ill. We children resented them and to our shame we showed it. They were mostly old, or they seemed so to us, and unmarried, so probably didn’t understand children. We were always pleased when they disappeared.
I remember once sitting on mum’s lap. She was showing me a lady’s watch in a case. She said, ‘this will be yours when I die.’ I said, ‘but you aren’t going to die are you mum?’ And she answered, ‘well yes I might’. I was probably a bit too young to grasp the full significance of her remark. I just remember she seemed sad, which made me feel sad too. The saddest day of my life was yet to come.
A day that sticks in my mind is the day we children were waiting for dad to come home from the hospital. We saw him coming up the path and Leslie, my younger brother, said, ‘how’s mummy dad?’ And he just replied, ‘She’s dead.’ Just like that! I felt so sad for Les; eight years old. I don’t think he remembers, but I’ll never forget it.
But that wasn’t the saddest day of my life; the saddest day was my mum’s funeral. We three children were each given a shilling (I suppose to take our minds off it). In those days, children did not attend funerals. I still recall the scent of the flowers on the coffin. Whenever I smell certain blooms it brings it all back so vividly. I was 10 ½ years old. My childhood ended on that day. I felt as if no one in the whole world loved me; a feeling of absolute desolation. Now, with hindsight, I can look back and think differently. I didn’t give a thought then to how my dad felt. He must’ve been devastated. In my child’s mind I would have seen that as coldness but now I realise it would have been extreme sadness. Now I realise how lucky I am, because I’ve known a mother’s love. However, life changed for me that day, but that’s another story.