Writing about oneself is cringe-making, however having looked at other people's blogs, giving your readers the low down seems to be the norm. If you find it too toe-curling give this page a miss, I promise I'll not sulk.
I was born in 1940 and grew up in Bilbrook. During the war our house in Homefield Road was used by refugees, our Dad was away in the Navy and so Mum, my brother and I spent time between our grandparents in Cannock and grandparents in Codsall. I can't remember the dates of our comings and goings - but we did go back to the house in Homefield Road by the time the war ended and I remember my Dad coming home when he was demobbed in 1945. Growing up in the then, tiny village of Bilbrook, (four shops, a pub and a church) was uneventful - it was one of those places where everyone knew everyone, after all, there were only about six streets of houses and a few outlying cottages, plus the Manor House. Kids of all ages played together, we spent long days roaming the fields and playing in the brook. The post-war years of the 1940s and 50s were, in retrospect, pretty bleak, but we had no sense of deprivation as we'd known nothing else. I was five when I first saw the sea. We went to Prestatyn and I was unimpressed with the cold grey rollers that turned your skin purple and the horrible knitted bathing costume, which, once wet, stretched to your knees with devastating cold clinginess. The rusting coils of barbed wire on the beach and a huge spent bomb did not make a happy holiday scene. I can tell you, I was glad to get back to sunny Bilbrook with its cowpats, wild flowers, and green fields.
I was 12 and my brother 14 when our new sister arrived one Sunday evening. The midwife was at evensong and I remember being sent down the road to fetch a neighbour, Mrs Herbert, to help. By this time Bilbrook had expanded and even had its own school. We'd had a long walk to school each morning to St Nicholas School (the old school behind Codsall Church). New sister Wendy would only have to walk a couple of hundred yards.
At school leaving time I intimated that I'd like to go to art college. I was dissuaded from this and instead I was sent to learn "something useful." So it was Barclays Business College, Wolverhampton; and later Wolverhampton Polytechnic, that set me on the secretarial career path. I wasn't particularly enthusiastic about the plan, but we had to do as we were told in those days. It's not all doom and gloom as I did eventually have some interesting jobs in local industry working for engineers. I learned a lot about hydraulic and pneumatic control systems and the importance of metallurgical treatments in the aircraft industry - not exactly life-enhancing but I had my hobbies.
In the 1980's, a time of recession, I decided to become self-employed. Under the auspices of the Government's Enterprise Scheme I set up a one-woman secretarial service, calling myself Words Worth. I accepted work from several small local companies - dictation tapes or reams of hand-written text would drop through the letterbox or roll off my fax machine and I would deliver to my clients on completion. Sometimes I took shorthand over the phone. (This was pre-today's technology and e-mails etc.) I received work from as far afield as Latvia (a teacher from Wolverhampton worked there). I typed for TV writers, authors, students; building, electrical, plumbing industries; nursing students, in fact, all sorts. I met a lot of interesting people and certainly many odd balls and the occasional pervert who invited me to sit on OUR settee with him (he got the boot). During staff holiday periods I was called into the local bank, solicitors, and some larger companies. I was sometimes offered a permanent job but I chose to remain master of my own momentum despite it being hard work and long hours, because however much work came in there was still only me to complete it.
During my time of self-employment I was asked to tutor a group of sixth-formers (a weekly two-hours session) at a Wolverhampton Community High School. I was to instruct the sixth formers how to run a petty cash system - the pupils needed this information to complete a module of their GNVQ Business Studies course. (Luckily way back in my early working years I had a job in an accounts and wages office and also managed their petty cash system.) When the contracted weekly sessions at the school were ended I never actually left and thus began my drift into teaching. It was a duck-to-water situation so I undertook teacher training and stayed at the school for several years as a Business Studies tutor. I took further training and then proceeded to work in Adult Education. During my latter working years I've taught Creative Writing, Knitting, Crochet, Reminiscence Writing for the Retired, working mainly at Pendrell Hall Adult College and Codsall Community School Adult Education Evening Classes. I'm grateful for having met so many interesting people over the years, many of whom have become my friends.
My main hobby has always been writing and I can remember churning out some pretty naff stuff as a child. I was a founder member of Codsall Writers - the group thrived for over thirty years. The Covid pandemic and lack of a meeting venue forced our decision to call it a day - I'd turned 80 by this time and decided I'd done my bit in the literary world. There was a time in my forties which I call "my piano years" - this was when I put another childhood dream into action. I bought an old piano and forked out for piano lesson. My family were very long-suffering. I never became a Paderewski but I could bang out the "Postman Pat" tune - the only thing my grandsons ever wanted to hear. I took my Grade I piano exam along with the seven-year olds and managed to pass. Clive, my teacher, pushed me on and I took Grade 6 in the same year, and managed to fail by 2 marks. But not to worry, I was able to occupy myself, if not entertain others, for many a happy hour. Studying the piano for a few years developed my appreciation and understanding of music and I now list my faves as Shostokovitch, Schubert, Chopin, Satie, along with Freddie Mercury, Georgie Fame and David Bowie. Other hobbies I've pursued are knitting, crochet, dress-making, tap dancing, yoga, drawing, painting, gardening, walking. This is where I must point out, I'm a dabbler - jack of all trades, master of none. I'm concentrating on painting at the moment hence my reason for boring everyone rigid on the subject.
My husband, son and daughter have managed to put up with me and my hobbies although hubby did put his foot down after having to manhandle my third old piano up the garden path and into the house. There were definite mutterings of "never again".
Of course, the foregoing is only one layer of my life. Whilst doing all this stuff there are the other layers that family members provide. We had twelve years of being an RAF groupy which luckily included several holidays in lovely Cyprus when Jay and Les were stationed there. Trips to watch the Royal Tournament at Earls Court when Jay was in the Queen's Colour Squadron. We also attended other events in which he was involved such as Changing the Guard at Windsor Castle and Buckinghm Palace, and he performed in the Edinburgh Tattoo. Prior to that there were anxious days whilst he was away in The Gulf War.
I almost forgot to mention Bern's 23 years service as a retained fire fighter with Staffordshire Fire and Rescue Service - for many years our lives revolved round the Fire Service. Dates and time off for holidays were governed by it. It was especially hard because retained fire fighters give their time outside the hours of their "proper job" i.e. in their own so-called leisure time.
We've also had the joy of Carol and Gary's boys - three football crazy grandsons - they live life to the full - just hearing about all the things they do these days makes me feel tired. The days when I could influence them with a bit of creative play or a story are long gone - now it's more a matter of them putting up with and humouring silly old Gran and diplomatically declining my offers to knit their jumpers.
In 2016 our little great-grandson arrived - Jai Andrew Mitchell. He'll be excused the wearing of great-granny jumpers because I've had to give up knitting and crochet as I'm plagued with rheumatoid arthritis. In recent years I've been diagnosed with Systemic Sclerosis or Crest Syndrome - it's a cocktail of various conditions including the rheumatoid thing - I don't do anything by half so I've managed to get fitted up with Sjogren's Syndrome too. No doubt it's these little maladies that will one day shuffle me off this mortal coil. Already it has curtailed my mobility so I spend loads of time in my den writing, drawing, painting, and clogging up the Internet with my daily drivel via this blog. (For 'den' read daughter's old bedroom).
2020 Post Script: the list of great grandchildren has extended and we now have Jai, Josh, Ralfie, and Freddie - nearly half a football team. There is another acquisition to add to my medical list: i.e. cancer. It's not an aggressive form and at the moment is kept in check with medication.
2022 Post Script: great grandchildren now number 6 - new additions are Finley (brother to Freddie) and Rory (brother to Ralfie, Jai, and Josh). All the little people call me GG, short for Great-Gran and Bern is knows as Pa.
Confession: I've reneged on my promise to not bother the family with my cacophonous music making. Yes I've bought a brand new piano it's digital, white, and beautiful. Don't panic, no one has to listen to my noise, I put my ear phones on and no one hears it but me. I'm still rubbish at it and I still love trying on the days when my rheumatoid problems don't get in the way.
Writers' Group: I previously mentioned that our writers' group has folded. A few keen members have decided to continue writing and we now share our work online. You'll find us at https://www.codsallwriters.weebly.com
I was born in 1940 and grew up in Bilbrook. During the war our house in Homefield Road was used by refugees, our Dad was away in the Navy and so Mum, my brother and I spent time between our grandparents in Cannock and grandparents in Codsall. I can't remember the dates of our comings and goings - but we did go back to the house in Homefield Road by the time the war ended and I remember my Dad coming home when he was demobbed in 1945. Growing up in the then, tiny village of Bilbrook, (four shops, a pub and a church) was uneventful - it was one of those places where everyone knew everyone, after all, there were only about six streets of houses and a few outlying cottages, plus the Manor House. Kids of all ages played together, we spent long days roaming the fields and playing in the brook. The post-war years of the 1940s and 50s were, in retrospect, pretty bleak, but we had no sense of deprivation as we'd known nothing else. I was five when I first saw the sea. We went to Prestatyn and I was unimpressed with the cold grey rollers that turned your skin purple and the horrible knitted bathing costume, which, once wet, stretched to your knees with devastating cold clinginess. The rusting coils of barbed wire on the beach and a huge spent bomb did not make a happy holiday scene. I can tell you, I was glad to get back to sunny Bilbrook with its cowpats, wild flowers, and green fields.
I was 12 and my brother 14 when our new sister arrived one Sunday evening. The midwife was at evensong and I remember being sent down the road to fetch a neighbour, Mrs Herbert, to help. By this time Bilbrook had expanded and even had its own school. We'd had a long walk to school each morning to St Nicholas School (the old school behind Codsall Church). New sister Wendy would only have to walk a couple of hundred yards.
At school leaving time I intimated that I'd like to go to art college. I was dissuaded from this and instead I was sent to learn "something useful." So it was Barclays Business College, Wolverhampton; and later Wolverhampton Polytechnic, that set me on the secretarial career path. I wasn't particularly enthusiastic about the plan, but we had to do as we were told in those days. It's not all doom and gloom as I did eventually have some interesting jobs in local industry working for engineers. I learned a lot about hydraulic and pneumatic control systems and the importance of metallurgical treatments in the aircraft industry - not exactly life-enhancing but I had my hobbies.
In the 1980's, a time of recession, I decided to become self-employed. Under the auspices of the Government's Enterprise Scheme I set up a one-woman secretarial service, calling myself Words Worth. I accepted work from several small local companies - dictation tapes or reams of hand-written text would drop through the letterbox or roll off my fax machine and I would deliver to my clients on completion. Sometimes I took shorthand over the phone. (This was pre-today's technology and e-mails etc.) I received work from as far afield as Latvia (a teacher from Wolverhampton worked there). I typed for TV writers, authors, students; building, electrical, plumbing industries; nursing students, in fact, all sorts. I met a lot of interesting people and certainly many odd balls and the occasional pervert who invited me to sit on OUR settee with him (he got the boot). During staff holiday periods I was called into the local bank, solicitors, and some larger companies. I was sometimes offered a permanent job but I chose to remain master of my own momentum despite it being hard work and long hours, because however much work came in there was still only me to complete it.
During my time of self-employment I was asked to tutor a group of sixth-formers (a weekly two-hours session) at a Wolverhampton Community High School. I was to instruct the sixth formers how to run a petty cash system - the pupils needed this information to complete a module of their GNVQ Business Studies course. (Luckily way back in my early working years I had a job in an accounts and wages office and also managed their petty cash system.) When the contracted weekly sessions at the school were ended I never actually left and thus began my drift into teaching. It was a duck-to-water situation so I undertook teacher training and stayed at the school for several years as a Business Studies tutor. I took further training and then proceeded to work in Adult Education. During my latter working years I've taught Creative Writing, Knitting, Crochet, Reminiscence Writing for the Retired, working mainly at Pendrell Hall Adult College and Codsall Community School Adult Education Evening Classes. I'm grateful for having met so many interesting people over the years, many of whom have become my friends.
My main hobby has always been writing and I can remember churning out some pretty naff stuff as a child. I was a founder member of Codsall Writers - the group thrived for over thirty years. The Covid pandemic and lack of a meeting venue forced our decision to call it a day - I'd turned 80 by this time and decided I'd done my bit in the literary world. There was a time in my forties which I call "my piano years" - this was when I put another childhood dream into action. I bought an old piano and forked out for piano lesson. My family were very long-suffering. I never became a Paderewski but I could bang out the "Postman Pat" tune - the only thing my grandsons ever wanted to hear. I took my Grade I piano exam along with the seven-year olds and managed to pass. Clive, my teacher, pushed me on and I took Grade 6 in the same year, and managed to fail by 2 marks. But not to worry, I was able to occupy myself, if not entertain others, for many a happy hour. Studying the piano for a few years developed my appreciation and understanding of music and I now list my faves as Shostokovitch, Schubert, Chopin, Satie, along with Freddie Mercury, Georgie Fame and David Bowie. Other hobbies I've pursued are knitting, crochet, dress-making, tap dancing, yoga, drawing, painting, gardening, walking. This is where I must point out, I'm a dabbler - jack of all trades, master of none. I'm concentrating on painting at the moment hence my reason for boring everyone rigid on the subject.
My husband, son and daughter have managed to put up with me and my hobbies although hubby did put his foot down after having to manhandle my third old piano up the garden path and into the house. There were definite mutterings of "never again".
Of course, the foregoing is only one layer of my life. Whilst doing all this stuff there are the other layers that family members provide. We had twelve years of being an RAF groupy which luckily included several holidays in lovely Cyprus when Jay and Les were stationed there. Trips to watch the Royal Tournament at Earls Court when Jay was in the Queen's Colour Squadron. We also attended other events in which he was involved such as Changing the Guard at Windsor Castle and Buckinghm Palace, and he performed in the Edinburgh Tattoo. Prior to that there were anxious days whilst he was away in The Gulf War.
I almost forgot to mention Bern's 23 years service as a retained fire fighter with Staffordshire Fire and Rescue Service - for many years our lives revolved round the Fire Service. Dates and time off for holidays were governed by it. It was especially hard because retained fire fighters give their time outside the hours of their "proper job" i.e. in their own so-called leisure time.
We've also had the joy of Carol and Gary's boys - three football crazy grandsons - they live life to the full - just hearing about all the things they do these days makes me feel tired. The days when I could influence them with a bit of creative play or a story are long gone - now it's more a matter of them putting up with and humouring silly old Gran and diplomatically declining my offers to knit their jumpers.
In 2016 our little great-grandson arrived - Jai Andrew Mitchell. He'll be excused the wearing of great-granny jumpers because I've had to give up knitting and crochet as I'm plagued with rheumatoid arthritis. In recent years I've been diagnosed with Systemic Sclerosis or Crest Syndrome - it's a cocktail of various conditions including the rheumatoid thing - I don't do anything by half so I've managed to get fitted up with Sjogren's Syndrome too. No doubt it's these little maladies that will one day shuffle me off this mortal coil. Already it has curtailed my mobility so I spend loads of time in my den writing, drawing, painting, and clogging up the Internet with my daily drivel via this blog. (For 'den' read daughter's old bedroom).
2020 Post Script: the list of great grandchildren has extended and we now have Jai, Josh, Ralfie, and Freddie - nearly half a football team. There is another acquisition to add to my medical list: i.e. cancer. It's not an aggressive form and at the moment is kept in check with medication.
2022 Post Script: great grandchildren now number 6 - new additions are Finley (brother to Freddie) and Rory (brother to Ralfie, Jai, and Josh). All the little people call me GG, short for Great-Gran and Bern is knows as Pa.
Confession: I've reneged on my promise to not bother the family with my cacophonous music making. Yes I've bought a brand new piano it's digital, white, and beautiful. Don't panic, no one has to listen to my noise, I put my ear phones on and no one hears it but me. I'm still rubbish at it and I still love trying on the days when my rheumatoid problems don't get in the way.
Writers' Group: I previously mentioned that our writers' group has folded. A few keen members have decided to continue writing and we now share our work online. You'll find us at https://www.codsallwriters.weebly.com