Tag: Auntie Francis

Auntie Francis Death And Funeral, 31 January 2001 et. seq.

Janie and I were running around like nuts working that week, ahead of our trip to Cambodia, Laos and Thailand.

Janie’s diary notes a brief visit to Auntie Francis in the St John & St Elizabeth Hospital a few days before she died. I think Janie made that visit solo, as I do not recall it.

My diary page for the relevant week is missing. I think I took it out of the Filofax on the funeral day with the relevant details scribbled on it and never returned the page to the diary. Very rare error from me, that.

But for sure I went to that funeral, as I recall it for three particular things that are ingrained in my meomory.

The first of those things was the rejigging that I had to do in order to attend. I had an important meeting scheduled with a difficult client, which I needed to reschedule quite late in the day in order to attend the funeral and visit the client. I got the logistics of that right, just about, and received sympathy and gratitude from the client at my obvious efforts to fit everything in, rather than the annoyance I half expected from them at the resulting need for a late in the day meeting.

The second of my memories relates to the minutes before…and just after…the start of the funeral. I got to Cheshunt with a good 20-30 minutes to spare. I mean, you don’t get to funerals late, do you?

But there were no signs of Mum, Dad, Michael and Pam as the funeral hour approached. The funeral started. Still no sign of them.

I was a little worried that something might have happened to them. Only a little worried, because I remembered mum telling me that they would be coming as a family pack, via Pam & Michael’s place.

About 10 minutes into the funeral, all four of them sneaked in at the back. Mum had a mixture of embarrassed face and angry face. There ought to be an emoji for such a face. Dad had flustered face. Michael and Pam looked…like Michael and Pam.

Pam and Michael, seemingly unbothered, August 1975

Precise timings isn’t really what Pam’s about.

The other thing I so clearly remember about that funeral is the “stock eulogy” that the Rabbi delivered in honour of Auntie Francis. After the standard facts list of dates (birth, marriage, my cousin Angela’s birth)…the Rabbi eulogised about the kind, gentle, warm-hearted mother that stock eulogies are all about.

I cannot have been the only person in the funeral hall who was thinking, “this doesn’t sound like Auntie Francis”, who was, bless her, a tough old bird, for whom the phrase, “on the lung, on the tongue” might have been written. She was one of only two or three people I ever met who induced fear in my mother.

At one point, Angela was struggling to keep a straight face during the eulogy, which made it even harder for me (and probably several others) to maintain our composure as well.

I resolved there and then to ensure that, in any situation where I had some influence over the funeral proceedings, that stock eulogies delivered by someone who didn’t know the deceased would be off the menu.

Writing 25 years later, I have only recently delivered what I think might be the most challenging eulogy I’ll ever have to make – eulogising Auntie Francis (who had endearing as well as challenging qualities) would be have been a doddle compared with the perils of Pauline:

My Eulogy To Pauline Wormleighton (1 July 1929 to 16 April 2025), Delivered 16 May 2025

On the Friday – 2 February, Janie and I had dinner with Kim & Micky at Monty’s Nepalese Restaurant in Ealing – thus spake Janie’s diary. My page is missing in action, remember?

The First Couple Of Weeks Of My Second Term At Alleyn’s School, 6 to 22 January 1974

When 10p really was 10p. Images borrowed from coincraft.com who, fifty years later, can sell you one of these 1974 coins for £6.50

The meaning of the two bob bit in this context will become apparent a bit later.

It is not the two bob that Mr Sandbrook offered to pay any of us if we spotted him make a spelling mistake on the blackboard. Mercifully, Mr Sandbrook did not similarly threaten to fine us 10p for every spelling mistake we made. Had he done so, he’d be a wealthy man and I (and several 1S colleagues) would each be a fair bit poorer.

My diary is riddled with dreadful spelling. I apologise unequivocally to Mr Sandbrook and to those who tried to teach me English before and after him. In the end, it was WordPerfect, AmiPro and Microsoft Word who drummed better spelling into me by dint of their spellcheckers. Teachers and parents, despite their entreaties, got only so far.

Week 6 to 12 January 1974 – Return To Alleyn’s School On the Thursday

My last few days of Christmas holiday freedom were not very eventful.

Sunday 6 January 1974 Missed [Hebrew] classes, went out for lunch with Grandma Anne. A rather bad day.

Lunch with Grandma Anne was probably at Feld’s restaurant in 1974, as I think Folman’s was gone by then.

I quite often mentioned having a good day or a bad day in those early diaries, without so much as a clue as to what might have made the day deserving of the chosen adjective.

Monday 7 January 1974 went to West End and bought 9? books., lunch at Auntie Francis, a very pleasant day. PS Getting lamp from Heals.

The only picture I can find depicting Auntie Francis is the following one from my parents’ wedding, in which everyone looks a bit miserable. Possibly it was a curated moment of reflection on absent friends and relatives. Or possibly everyone was caught on camera just at that “I’ve overeaten” realization moment.

Auntie Francis, Uncle Alec, Grandma Anne, Dad, Mum, Grandpa Lew, Grandma Jenny

I absolutely loved my Heals lamp. It was in the shape of a giant incandescent lightbulb. So cool. You’ll just have to believe me.

Tuesday 8 January 1974 – uneventful. Saw Andrew [Andy Levinson] in morning. G Jenny in afternoon.

Wednesday 9 January 1974 – had lunch with Andrew. Saw Mary Poppins in afternoon. She’s Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious.

Return To School 10 to 22 January 1974

Thursday 10 January 1974 – First day of Lent Term. The t[w]o H’s are on form. No activities so classes early.

Friday 11 January 1974 – Whent [sorry Sir] to Dad after school – lift from U[ncle] Manny.

Saturday 12 January 1974 – School in morning afternoon uneventful.

The two H’s were Keith Handy and Richard Hollingshead, who tended to give me a pretty hard time in those early days at Alleyn’s.

Sunday 13 January 1974 – Miss Aaron [Hebrew class teacher] away. Mr Ragshaw [relief teacher presumably] gave teaser I was right. Lamp is nice.

Monday 14 January 1974 – was robed [presumably I mean to write “robbed”, but I probably, more accurately, “was thieved from”] at school. Mr Fanner [Headmaster] lent 10p. NOTHING ELSE.

I don’t remember the theft incident. I’m sure I would have remembered it had I actually been robbed at school. I suspect my bus fare money “disappeared” from my pocket during PE that morning or games that afternoon.

Still, the incident must have been deemed serious enough for me to have been sent to the headmaster, Mr Fanner, who kindly ponied up a couple of bob to see me home safely. I think I only needed 2p or 4p for that purpose in those days.

I was once actually robbed – i.e. duffed over on the train to school and had my pocket money stolen – but that was certainly not in term two of my first year.

Tuesday 15 January 1974 – repaid Mr Fanner. Biology – no wormery yet. Classes good.

I love the fact that repaying Mr Fanner was a diary-worthy event. I can imagine mum telling me multiple times that it was vitally important that I got that money back to the Headmaster that very day, otherwise he might imagine all sorts of terrible things about me and my family.

I think Bernard Rothbart was our biology teacher that year, making that diary entry especially bitter-sweet thinking about him and Mr Fanner and Mr Tindale (see below) all dying prematurely.

Wednesday 16 January 1974 – Fives good. McG good player. TV good. Man About The House, Bless This House especially.

I’m not sure who McG is/was. Answers, please, on a postcard. McG presumably beat me in order to be assessed as a good player.

Thursday 17 January 1974 – Tindale [French master] away. No violin. Classes good. Prepared lecture for tomorrow.

I’ll talk about my diabolical relationship with the violin some other time. Me and the violin did not get on.

Friday 18 January 1974 – Lecture went well. Drama v good. Heard tape of me 7 years ago.

Not sure what the brief for the lecture was, or indeed for drama that day, deserving of v good. But I can work out what “tape of me 7 years ago” must be referring to, which was the simply delightful recording, which I still have, of my dad reading “Hare And Guy Fawkes” to me on 5 November 1967:

Hare And Guy Fawkes, Daddy Reading To Me, 5 November 1967

Did someone, e.g. Mr Sandbrook, dig out a reel to reel tape recorder and play that recording in class? Or does that diary entry refer to family activity later that day at home? If only I had been more detailed and specific with my diary entries back then.

Saturday 19 January – school morn. Afternoon played with myself. Everything is OK.

Played with myself is not a smutty and/or euphemistic reference. As an only child, I had a variety of games that I had adapted for solo entertainment when needed. I had a version of cricket darts where I would play both batting and bowling roles. I had my own version of Cluedo which enabled me to play solo – goodness knows how – I think that might have come a bit later.

And I had fridge ball, which I have documented on this blog from a December 1974 reference:

A Marathon Day Of Court Sport; Fives and Fridge Ball, 4 December 1974

Great sport, fridge ball. Fridge ball is to ping pong what real tennis is to tennis.

Sunday 20 January 1974 – Bechat Ha Mazon [Birkat Hamazon – food blessing] went well. [Miss] Aaron not [Mr] Freed – boo!! [Hebrew classes]. Otherwise uneventful.

Monday 21 January 1974 – cricket good. 1 dive. 2 one-handed catches. Rest uneventful.

Tuesday 22 January 1974 – No fencing. Female art teacher is good. Classes good.

There is my first reference to cricket in the diaries. Possibly my first ever cricket lesson. I like the sound of my diving one-handed catches.

…more like this DALL-E reimagined picture.

As for the female art teacher, I cannot remember anything about her and certainly not her name. Sorry, Miss. Perhaps others can recall her. I remember Mr Brew and I remember Mr Friedlander, but no female comes to mind in that context. Still, she was good, in my eyes, in January 1974.