Have a waffle with Carol

[Carol Townsend]

Hello Everyone,
Just to say I'm still around, but my mum passed away on the 19th after becoming very ill. Reading the forum has been some escapism for me. See you soon.
Love
Carolnoe

[Bill B]

Carol,

May I offer my deepest sympathy to you and the rest of your family. Losing a parent is always difficult.

Love Bill

[Tony G]

Hi Sis

Just arrived home today. Still spaced out from lack of sleep. Just wanted to say how sorry I am to hear of your loss and the deeply emotional time you are doubtless going through, (t'was only yesterday lunchtime, sitting in Cascreole, that David passed on his concern about your lack of postings).

I'll be back here soon as I can think and see straight.

Lottsa Love

Tony

XXX

[Brian Taylor]

so sorry carol, hope your mom did not have to suffer and that you and your family have all the power you need to go through all this! Our thoughts are with you!
steph & ali

[David Watkins]

Dear Noe,I am so sorry for your loss ,thoughts and prayers are with you.
David xx

[GillMathews]

Hello Noe.
I am so sorry to hear about your Mum.I am sure you are being well supported by your family through this most difficult time.Time is what you need as I discovered when my dad died suddenly in 2003 but all the lovely memories will keep her close to you.
Love and Hugs
Gill xxx

[Carol Townsend]

Thanks to all of you for your lovely messages.
We all know that we have to lose our parents one day but that doesn't make it any easier when the time comes. I find I am grieving for my dad too, as much as when he died six years ago.
Mum's last words to me were "make the most of your life", so keep waffling!
I'll be back.
Love
Carolnoe
xxx

[Carol Townsend]

That's what my chidren called my mum: "the Old Tart", and she loved it; shy, sober and respectable though she was. "Hello you Old Tart", they would say, and she would chuckle delightedly at this sign of affection.
Mum was the daughter of Nan of the Lost Knickers of Tunisia, but she wasn't an Eastender, she was a Hertfordshire country girl.
She was ordinary, from an ordinary background. I use the term ordinary in the way that she did. If she described someone as ordinary, she meant it as a compliment and sign of respect. Ordinary meant decent, honest, inoffensive, down-to-earth with no airs and graces.
Mum grew up during the war, which formed her character as it did of everyone from her generation. For one thing she was an inveterate hoarder; stock up now before the shelves empty!
She went to a small village school where lessons were often interrupted by air raids, or the children had to sleep at their desks when they had spent an uncomfortable night in the air raid shelter.
She was a quiet girl who spent much of her free time reading a book whilst her brothers and sisters were out playing.
She left school at fourteen and worked in an office, then a shop. Less pay, lower status but she was happier working with people than sitting at a desk with a pen, as it was then.
She met Dad at a youth club and they were married when she was twenty-one.
They lived in a modest council house, lead a quiet life, and were utterly devoted to each other. Mum continued working until I was born, and then became a housewife as was mainly the norm then. Dad worked as a welder and had the attitude, common in those days, that his wife should not have to work outside the home.
For myself, I think that was a shame. She had a sharp mind and if she had had more education would have had a career. She loved reading, writing, politics and debating. She often said she would have liked to have been a barrister but that was out of the question for a woman of that generation and background. The only subjects she was not too knowledgable on were history and geography, for which she blamed the war! My parents never set foot outside Britain, and the furthest they ever went on holiday from their home in Hertfordshire was to Cornwall or Wales, which they found a great adventure!
Life changed for them in 1978 when Dad had a stroke four days before his fiftieth birthday. He was left confused, with weakness down one side of his body and his intellectual capacities impaired.
He had been a champion chess player, playing for the county and taking part in correspondence chess games games with people from all over the world. What a long laborious business that was! He would write down the move, post it to his opponent in, say, Australia or Canada, and two weeks later receive their answering move. If only the Internet had been around then!
I've never been into chess, though I know some of the rules and terms and can set out the board. I think seeing Dad poring over the board for hours on end put me off. I must have been a big disappointment to him!
So now he was unable to read, play chess or work.
He pulled himself up. I taught him how to read again and he eventually returned to chess, though he was no longer champion standard and the days of correspondence chess were over. He was never able to work again.
Mum now devoted herself to caring for him. At first I lived at home and was able to help, but when I got married she cared for Dad entirely alone, receiving no help from any outside body at all, with the exception of a handrail in the bathroom and up the stairs, provided by the Council.
When he died twenty three years later, in 2001, Mum's first words to me were: "What am I going to do now? How am I going to fill my days?" She was sixty-nine, and they had been married for forty-seven years.
She never really stopped grieving for Dad, and looked forward to the day when, as she put it, she would "go home" and see him again.
Mum had kept pretty much strong and healthy when caring for Dad, but once he had gone her health slowly began to decline, starting with her eyesight so that she was no longer able to indulge her passion for reading.
She was very excited when I told her we were going to Tobago, although with her dire knowledge of geography it might as well have been Mars! She wanted to hear all about it and was delighted when I told her about my new interest of posting on this forum, even though she couldn't read any of it and of course computers were totally alien to her.
Would Mum and Dad have liked Tobago? Not the heat, that's for sure, although maybe if they could have gone there in their youth they might have coped with it. But yes, they would have liked it I think. They liked quiet places by the sea, so Castara would have suited them, and unlike some of their generation who had unfortunate and ignorant attitudes towards folk of other races, they were respectful and tolerant. Do they like chess in Tobago? If so, then Dad would have happily sat in the shade playing against one of the locals. He liked football and cricket too, but not fishing!
Mum loved the sea. She would wade out as far as she dared, as she never learned to swim. She would also, alas, be easy meat for those sandflies, as she would get bitten by anything and everything each Summer! They both would have liked the steelpan bands, and Mum would have danced with that elderly chap at Sunday School, shy though she was.
Last Autumn her health deteriated further with ulcerative colitis, and in January she had an operation. She was recovering well, but suddenly took a turn for the worse and became very ill. The doctors said she had a small chance of recovery but they would not resucitate if she suffered any kind of organ failure.
She made a decision; she was in pain and being given morphine via a drip. Enough was enough. She refused all further treatment.
When I saw her without the oxygen mask and all the other paraphernalia she looked happier than she had in years. Her eyes were bright and she was beaming."I'm going home to Dad. Make the most of your life", were her last words to me.
They continued with the morphine to keep her comfortable, and on 19th January 2008 she slipped away, under the care of two of the most compassionate NHS nurses you could ever meet. She was seventy-five, and alll the lines had gone from her face.
Did I say the Old Tart was ordinary? She was extra- ordinary.

Thank you for reading this.

[Bill B]

Carol,

You failed to mention one of the most important things your mother did - that is to raise a loving, caring and wonderful daughter. You have written a very warm and endearing tribute to her.

Bill

[Tony G]

Hey Sis

I'm lost for words. They say big boys don't cry. Well I'm a big boy now and I don't mind admitting that I've just shed a few tears. Good tears. Warm, human tears. Lovely words, lovely memories. Have a big HUG from me.

Lottsa Love

Tony

XXX

[Johanna Y.]

Hi Carol,

Thank you so much for sharing the strory about your Mum. It was really touching and brought tears to my eyes too. Although I'm very sorry for your loss but one positive thing is that you had a chance to say goodbye to your Mum and she was ready to go. When I lost my Dad a little bit over three years ago, I never had it. Stay strong, time will heal the wounds and all we remember are the sweet memories.

Johanna

[Jonathan Richards]

Who'd have thought that having found a useful website to help with planning a holiday in the sun last year, I'd still be coming back here on most days, and finding moving, eloquent writing like that. It reminds me of how I felt when my father died; he had a stroke aged 86 and never regained consciousness, so I know how precious the opportunity to say goodbye is.

It's been a mourning time for us again, recently. My son James's best friend, whom he had known from 14 until now, when they're 25ish, decided to end his life in January, for no very good reason that any one of the hundreds who packed his funeral service can determine. We are grateful for the time we had with him, but the loss of such a young life leaves us bewildered, in ways that the peaceful passing of beloved family at the end of their lives does not.

Thank you, Carol. Your Mum sounds brave and wonderful, and I hope that our sympathy is some small comfort while you come to terms with her loss.

[David Watkins]

My Dear Noe,what a beautiful,wonderful obituary.I make no bones about it---I cried.You were obviously brought up in a loving family and this shows in the words you use.God Bless
David xx

[Jane H]

Dear Carol

I know that, at present, you will be feeling the loss of your Mother very deeply - she sounds to have been a wonderful and characterful lady! I can promise that, while you never forget, in time all the memories become happy ones, funny ones, affectionate ones - and the sadness gradually passes.

My thoughts are with you and your family.

Jane

[Carol Townsend]

Thank you all so much for reading my tribute to Mum, and for your lovely, caring messages. I wanted to say something in public about her as all I could manage at her funeral was to read out a poem I had found. The forum gave me the opportunity.

Jonathan, I'm so sorry to hear about your son's friend. It's the case, I believe, that it's often young men who take their life. They find it difficult to talk about their problems in the way that women can.

Love to you all.
Carol
Oh, and David, I'm getting to quite ike being called Noe!

[GillMathews]

Hello Noe,
Just catching up before going to bed. How lovely to read about your Mum and Dad. They both sound like very special people displaying those special kinds of stength of character that their generation seemed to have so much of.I know exactly what you meant about the use of "ordinary" as being complimentary. Ordinary folk with no side, was the way my Dad (a Manchester man) would often describe new people. Thank you for sharing your thoughts and sadness with us, I feel very privilaged to share them with you.I too had the blessing of a loving caring home and treasure my Mum`s company. She was 84 last Tuesday so I made pancakes for her for tea. So pleased to have you back again and hope life will feel sunnier for you soon.
Love n hugs x x

[Carol Townsend]

So, Bill thinks the "Waffle" Thread is "dormant" does he?
I've had a clearout of my saved drafts and found something I made earlier; 20th December in fact!
In the time - honoured tradition of the Waffle Thread it is of no relevance to anything we've recently been discussing; not meteors over Tobago, lunar eclipses (missed it completely!) nor even the abundance of Germans called Doris in Castara.
Don't know why I didn't post it before, but it's taking up space on the shelf so here goes...

[Carol Townsend]

A while ago Jane told us a "Fawlty Towers" -esque tale, which has taken my thoughts back to Skegness, August 1991.
For those who may not know, Skegness is a popular seaside town in sunny Lincolnshire, on the East coast of England, just above the Wash (that square shaped bit of sea where King John is reputed to have lost the Crown Jewels) and near Boston.( The ORIGINAL Boston, Bill!)
The logo for Skegness is The"Jolly Fisherman"; a fat fisherman skipping along, with the legend "Skegness is so bracing". In other words it is feezing cold and windy even in the Summer. So what were we doing there? Well, we tend to go to places that are freezing cold and windy in the Summer.
Tobago was a totally new experience. We had to spend a fortune on lightweight clothes, and I even had to buy a beach bag and get new (prescription )sunglasses.
To give you an idea of what our holidays are normally like; in 2006 we went to Berwick on Tweed, just a sneeze away from the Scottish border, and yes it was very bracing. Oh, and there was that time we were in Scotland and drove one hundred miles to John O'Groats on a whim. As you do.

Skegness.
We were spending a long weekend there; myself, Hubby and Son, with me expecting Daughter, and therefore spending a fair amount of time in the bathroom with all-day "morning sickness".
We had no accommodation booked, so found a reasonably priced bed and breakfast establishment. I say "reasonably priced"; as it turned out, it was priceLESS!
The landlady and her husband are most likely no longer with us, bless their hearts, as they were quite elderly then, but in case they are, I'll call them Mr and Mrs A.
Mrs A. was exactly how a seaside landlady should look. Back in 1940 that is.
She was rotund, with snowy white hair tied back in a bun, encased in a hairnet, floral patterned dress, and an apron, also floral, but cleverly designed to clash with the dress.
She welcomed us in and proudly showed us around the house.
The first thing I must mention in her honour was the fact that the house had newly-fitted fire doors and a Fire Certificate . She was SO proud! We had to see and admire every one. Was it not compulsory to have fire doors in those days then?
The most striking feature of the house was the furniture and decor. Though spotlessly clean, they had seen no reason to update it from the War Years:
dark, heavily patterned wallpaper which made you feel claustrophobic, dark, heavy furniture made from Real Wood and Built To Last; Victorian ornaments, curtains that were so heavy the walls would have fallen down if they were ever moved, and carpets which, like the apron, clashed wonderfully with everything else.
The bedrooms were the same; clean, but more appropriate to a museum. It was a cheap establishment; therefore no en-suite, but each room had a wash hand basin, soap and towels.
There were a couple of bathrooms along the landing, but Mrs A made it abundantly clear that she did not want us to have a bath! I can't recall how the subject arose, but I remember her repeatedly hinting that as we were only staying for two nights, then naturally we would not be needing a bath; there was, after all, the hand basin.... Needless to say, there was no shower on the premises.
I omitted to mention the Notes.
On virtually every door, mirror and piece of furniture, there was a list of Rules of the House:
Do not use hairspray in the bedrooms; it damages the furniture;
Guests are only to use one towel each;
Close doors quietly;
No music in the rooms;
Do not flush the toilet between 11pm and 7am (ew);
Keep the rooms tidy;
No hot drinks to be taken to rooms;
Breakfast at 8am. Please be punctual.
If you do not require the full breakfast please inform us the night before so food is not wasted.
Etc etc etc...
A peaceful night. Yes we broke the "toilet flushing" rule( as did other guests I'm sure) but there were no repercussions, and I never use hairspray ( I like the wild, unkempt look. Well, why do you think I wear that hat?).
We trotted downstairs at 8am precisely, and met Mr A for the first time. He was on breakfast duty, and mindful of food hygiene, was sporting a hairnet and floral apron identical to his good lady wife's.
Wanting to get our money's worth, we settled for the "full English" breakfast, with hubby eating what our three year old son couldn't manage.
The breakfast was the usual egg, bacon, sausage, toast, cereal ( the choice was cornflakes or cornflakes, which I swear had been made out of recycled cardboard) re-hydrated baked beans, but no tomatoes.
Mrs A was aware of this: " tomorrow I'm hoping to get some tomatoes!" she said gleefully, as if they were a rare treat.
When she had left the room we all had a giggle ( the young couple near us were kicking each other under the table).Were tomatoes hard to obtain in Skegness then? No, it was obvious; Mr and Mrs A hadn't been informed that the war was over, and that rationing ended in 1954. That would also explain the No Bath rule. ( Mind you, living in the drought - ridden, overcrowded, tropical South East of England; Land of The Hosepipe Ban, I understand that rule. Not being allowed to use a hosepipe is hardly the end of the world though, is it?) I digress.
We spent our second night, and eagerly ran down the dark and dismal stairs to breakfast.
Mr A greeted us in his hairnet and apron with a smile, and served our breakfast. Mrs A apppeared. " I've got tomatoes!" she exclaimed with a delighted smile, and waited for our cries of gratitude.
They were tinned.
Gordon Ramsey, eat your heart out .

I must say we enjoyed our stay with them very much. They were lovely, eccentric old souls, happily frozen in time, telling us stories about previous guests, and we will probably never see their like again.

[Brian Taylor]

loved your story, noe... but morbidly thinking as I am, I could imagine how it would go on if there was a third night and roald dahl was in the area just the right place for something scary to happen (apart from the scary canned tomatoes...).

just had to stay over night in trinidad and other than your lovely experience it was expensive and the breakfast was worse than card board cornflakes (good thing I've seen the cocroach in the room only in the morning, otheriwse I would not have closed an eye! who ever wants... or rather has to stay in trinidad over night can get the name of the place from me to know where NOT to go...)

missed the eclipse, too. just could not keep my eyes open long enough. I heard there will be a next one in 2010, so I'm looking forward to that...

steph

[Bill B]

Noe,

As I've stated before I feel you should publish your travel memoirs. A suggestion for the title would be "Lost Traveler in a Lopsided World"

Bill Poyap