Chapter 14

Although we knew Great Ayton well, living in the village was quite a novelty. Our little house was in excellent condition, so any alterations could be made in our own time. Shopping was different, although supermarkets are basically the same everywhere, market towns like Guisborough and Northallerton have something quite special.

Our tiny garden did not offer much scope. A local contractor shored up our side of the ditch between the garden and the field, giving another couple of feet of garden and removal of a rather "tatty" fence gave the impression of more space. I dug up the lawn and replaced it with stone flags on which Doreen was able to arrange various tubs and pots. Although it was small, our finished garden was attractive.

It was such a pleasure to see more of the children and grandchildren, Robert was, and still is, a frequent visitor. He was a great help to me in laying the flags. He has always been keen on cooking and helped Doreen with the mince pies on several Christmases. As grandparents we were invited to several functions at school.

We were always blessed with good neighbours and Great Ayton was no exception. Mary, next door lost her husband shortly after our arrival. Her daughter Brenda and husband Mike also live on the estate. Mike is Ayton born, his country origins giving him a bond with Doreen. They talked on many country topics, their one bone of contention, "Hunting." Doreen was delighted when we discovered a bit of North Yorkshire with which Mike was not familiar. Since Doreen died Mary has invited me every week for a beautifully cooked meal.

We soon established a life pattern, work or shopping in the morning, after lunch a run to the moors or dales where we would usually have a walk before returning to the car for a cup of tea and to read the papers or our books. I was particularly fond of Rydale. Our life might not sound wildly exciting but it suited us both.

Nicholas had moved to Dalton in Furness, this time to a house with attics and cellars. There must be a little "gene" somewhere in the family that favours attics and cellars. When Michael was born on 19th June 1986, we were just about to leave for a holiday in Sidmouth. We travelled to Devon by way of Dalton so that we could see Christine, Michael and of course, "father."

On our first night in Sidmouth we were awakened at about 5:00am (it was the longest day) by the sound of voices on the promenade and in the car park beside the hotel. The sound of vehicles arriving was added and then more voices. Eventually we looked out of our window to see the prom and car park seething with people, some standing about with cups of tea, several who appeared to be wearing "dated" clothes, the ladies with large hats and seamed stockings. We realised that we were watching "filming" and had a grandstand view of the whole operation. It was not until we took our pre-breakfast walk on the prom, and saw Joan Hickson sitting in one of the shelters, that we realised that they were filming "Miss Marple." When we later saw the programme on television, four hours filming were condensed to about fifteen seconds on screen. Now, whenever I see a period film made in a town, I can picture the filming starting at the crack of dawn on the longest Sunday of the year.

Sidmouth was very much to our liking and we returned for a holiday the following two years. Doreen's favourite charity, the Donkey Sanctuary was only a mile or two away and we visited it each time. I understand that Doreen's name is now inscribed on the memory wall at the sanctuary. Neither of us ever felt a desire for a foreign holiday, one of our reasons was a near phobia about animal cruelty. Had we seen a horse or donkey overloaded or beaten, or even live produce for sale in a food market, our holiday would be ruined. We were probably quite illogical, and such an event was unlikely, but we were in complete agreement.

The following year we spent our holiday in Wales and made our first return to Caernarfon. We could hardly see Rhwngddwyryd behind the Leylandi that we had planted ten years earlier and which were presenting a problem before we moved.

We were planning another visit to Sidmouth when Doreen was taken ill and admitted to hospital. I still find it difficult to write about her illness except to say that after two spells in hospital she was well enough for us to enjoy some outings in the late summer. Due to her country origins, one of Doreen's greatest pleasures was gathering the "fruits of the field." She would "home in" on a wild strawberry in a roadside verge and could spot mushrooms from a moving car, two fields away. We spent a lovely day picking blackberries in one of our favourite places near Hovingham. On a later outing, after gathering mushrooms, she blamed her back pains on too much bending. Sadly it was the manifestation of the cancer which had penetrated her bones. It was our last real outing. The pains increased but her one and only treatment of radio-therapy failed to alleviate them. I was able to look after her at home, our Doctor and clinic nurses were marvellous to both of us. Ian was literally a tower of strength, he was able to lift Doreen on the bed to make her comfortable. Dilys came from Liverpool to give Doreen and me comfort. Doreen wrote a little letter to John thanking him for "sparing" Dilys. It was the last letter she wrote.

She died at home on December 17th 1991. Despite a love amounting to adoration, which will have become apparent through these pages, I was able to accept her death - we all have to die. We had 48 years of a marriage as near perfect as anyone could expect. Dilys insisted on staying with me the night before her funeral. I was very glad of her support, particularly when I awoke to see snow. Nicholas had to negotiate the A66 over the Pennines. I was so worried he might not succeed - in the event he telephoned from Scotch Corner and arranged to make straight for the Crematorium. Since Doreen's death Dilys has several times sensed that I was "low" and has written a "cheering" letter or pressed me to visit.

A chance encounter in radio-therapy had sown the seed in my mind for voluntary work. A gentleman of about my own age provided me with a cup of coffee and a chat while Doreen was having her treatment. Later with the help of our MacMillan nurse, Joyce Dewar, I became a volunteer driver for the Teesside Hospice Care Foundation, which has done so much in helping me to fill the awful gap in my life. It has given me discipline, and made me many new friends among guests, staff and helpers, inevitably, there have been losses among the former. As I have become increasingly involved, I was flattered to be asked to join a palliative care working party, and later be elected as a Member of the Foundation.

Louise, Ian and Robert planned a holiday on the Llangollen canal and invited Ian's mother and me to join them. It was my first canal trip and very enjoyable. It was both relaxing (evenings) and hard work (operating locks). We had the thrill of crossing the Pontcysyllte aqueduct over the Dee valley some hundred feet above the river. The water was just a few inches below the trough with no guard rail on one side. Quite a hair-raising experience!

I still retraced some of our old walks, although the joy had gone out of them. One Sunday I was following the Cleveland Way on the hill behind Swainby. Passing through Coalmire wood, a small plateau provides a view over Cleveland and to the sea. We used to wish there was a seat on which we could relax for a while before our return walk. I was struck as if by lightning "I could provide a seat in memory of Doreen." I literally ran back to the car to hurry to Swainby and seek out some people whom I had met only the week before and ask who owned the land. Learning that it was Lord Ingleby I wrote to him there and then, seeking his agreement. His reply, "What a lovely idea." I set things in motion and had a steel (hopefully vandalproof) seat made by the blacksmith in Carlton. On my birthday, the family braved a snowstorm to visit the newly installed seat. Ian scattered Doreen's ashes in the surrounding area. I am happy to say that on each occasion I have visited the seat since it has been in use.

This summer I made a journey to visit some old friends. I spent a couple of days with Noel and Norma in Ampney Crucis near Cirencester followed by a couple of days with Mair in Knutsford. We visited Jim and Muriel the first evening. Jim had just joined the "ex gall bladder" club. Muriel, as always, was full of her own particular brand of "scouse" humour. The following day we made a nostalgic trip to Berriew and Carno. Mair's friends welcomed us to lunch in Carno, following which we went to the Smithy in Berriew for our tea. The Pryces at the Smithy had been Doreen's childhood neighbours. Bill had been the Blacksmith and his father and grandfather before him. Bill and Anne's home is like a timewarp. Their three boys and one girl still live in or near the village and still, with their children treat the Smithy as "home." Sons, daughters-in-law, daughter and grandchildren pop in and help themselves to a "buttie" or cup of tea. It is "family life" as we used to know it and very heartwarming. Spending the last couple of days with John and Dilys in Woolton, I visited Hal and Dorothy Watson. I also called on Molly Harris and Beatrice McKenzie (Noel's sister) neither of whom I had met for many years. Both calls were without warning, and it was a pleasure to see the quizzical look replaced by one of recognition.

Later in the year came the mini-holiday in Scarborough. Around twenty-seven guests, some with husbands or wives, a similar number of helpers, plus Liz Hodgson and her "A team" spent two nights at the Crown hotel where we were made specially welcome by the management. The "carnival" atmosphere has to be seen to be believed, one almost forgets that the guests are sick people. Only when Sister Liz or Nurse Jan hurries down the aisle of the coach with medication is one reminded of the reality. I think Scarborough is a high spot for us all. Everyone is already talking about "next year."

This brings me to the present time. Who knows what lies ahead? I do know that if I had my life to lead again, there is little or nothing that I would change. I was blessed with good and loving parents and I enjoyed my school days. My work has always been interesting and given me satisfaction. I have lived in some lovely homes in some lovely places. I am blessed with two dear children who have added a loved son-in-law and a loved daughter-in-law and of course my lovely grandchildren.

My dear, dear Doreen was the centre of my life for fifty-two years. I dedicate this story to her memory.

January 1994