Joan Weathers (1925-2019)

My mum died last night at the grand age of 93. She had been in hospital for three weeks, but we had seen a decline in her from just before Christmas and while the hospital was the right place for her treatment, I am sure, as an independent lady,  she would have liked to be self sufficient to the end.

She was one of seven children, she had five sisters, Jackie, Betty, Peggy, Norah and Doreen, and a brother John who I never met. She is survived by Jackie. The strangest thing I can remember about them is the only Christmas present I ever got from Uncle John was a set of plastic golf clubs. It was in the early sixties and he clearly saw something in me which nobody else did!!

They were brought up in Wisbech in the Fenlands of Cambridgeshire, and she attended Wisbech High School. The acronym, RHS, was said to stand for 'wandering hands society'. I suspect my mum was not a member of that society as she left home at the age of 16 to join the Army. In her own words she was so naive, she did not even know where babies came from!!

This naivety did not last long apparently as the girl she was billeted with was 'a bit flighty'. It was the height of the second world war and she was posted to Folkstone as one of the girls who moved ships and planes across the map of Europe with roulette type sticks. She was regularly telling the story of how she and some friends were chased back to barracks by an armed sentry on the night of D-Day as all leave was cancelled but nobody had told them!!

I remember visiting the area in my teens when we went to the local pub the soldiers frequented and saw the names of the military signed on the ceiling.

At the end of the war she stayed in the Army and joined the Army Training Service (ATS) as a physical fitness instructor. It was at this time that she met my dad, Paul. She followed him around watching cricket and football and they eventually got married and I appeared on the scene.

We lived in Isleworth in West London in a house owned by my aunt, and my grandparents lived next door with my cousin Mike a few doors further up the road. We stayed there until 1959 when my dad took a new job with Shell Mex and BP and we moved down to Plymouth.

Mum was a typical housewife of the time, and while Dad travelled around the South West buying sites for new petrol stations, my mum was my taxi for school events, and sporting occassions. She would transport me and my mates in her pride and joy of an A40 called 'Noddy'. When I reached the age of 17, Noddy became my pride and joy as well and shared many a boys night out with the S Club and other school chums.

As I was now less demanding on my mum, she branched out,  with a friend called Rosemary, into the unheard of area of child care. The pair of them convinced a local church to allow them to run a playgroup in the hall. Dad and I then spent several evenings touring Plymouth buying second hand bikes, slides, prams and swings to go in the hall. Dad built a sandpit and put clothes hooks on the wall, and the playgroup was opened. It cost 50p a session and was hugely popular with professional people, artisans, sportsmen  and teachers alike. Mum and Rosemary knew the world, and were never short of Plymouth Argyle tickets as several players dropped their children off in the mornings.

She attended Home Park with dad regularly and it left a big hole in her life when he died prematurely in 1980 just after I had married and presented them with their grandson, Tim. She relocated briefly back to Wisbech but going there did not really work out, so she returned to Plymouth and eventually found a pleasant house a few hundred yards from our original family home.

Mum then turned to volunteer work, especially for the National Trust at Saltram House, she also worked as a ward clerk at the local Greenbank hospital a few days a week. She joined in with walking groups and played badminton regularly, but this combination soon took a toll on her knees and her mobility started to suffer. She lost her walking group days out as she was struggling to keep up, so she turned  to her garden and it became her new pride and joy as Noddy Mk3 had been sold when she found it difficult to drive.

As calls for help became more frequent, and the distance between London or Liverpool and Plymouth became a problem, mum moved to an independent living apartment in Hoylake near where we live. She never really got the Liverpool bug though and although she developed a small nucleus of friends in the flats, the wider benefits of an extended family alluded her.

Nonetheless she was always interested in the progress made by the children in their careers and more recently she has been delighted by the way our oldest granddaughters, Ava and Sofia, have been bonding. She truly adored her grandson, Tim, and was always full of support for him when his life course took to choppy waters.

She was a very attractive woman, even to the end, and as a small reminder it is my intention to construct an Andy Warhol,  Marilyn Munroe style pop art collage. I hope she would find that appropriate. We hope to scatter her ashes at the memorial garden in Plymouth where my dad was laid to rest all those years ago. They will then once more find happiness in each others company.

Knock, knock, knocking on heavens door.....

The property in Isleworth owned my Mr and Mrs Expenses, the Keens, previously highlighted here in early 2008, has been occupied by squatters, as it has remained vacant for some time. Here is the transcript of a letter circulated to neighbours, by Anne Keen.


"I am sure that you are aware that our home on Brook Road South has been taken over by squatters. The law to deal with squatters is complicated, but we are taking legal action to regain possession as quickly as possible. We would like to apologise for any disruption to your life and any inconvenience you may have experienced. After major difficulties with the architect/builder we commissioned to carry out refurbishing work and a loft conversion, we were very badly let down and the company recently went into liquidation. We are now in a position to bring in a new firm and work is scheduled to start within two weeks. We look forward to moving back in during the summer. "

"We have lived in our Brentford home for more than 22 years and we own the house - all mortgage payments and building work have always, of course, been paid by us personally. It is our home and has been very special to us for a long time. Alan started work on the Great West Road, Brentford in 1963 and I, as a nurse, spent a substantial part of my working life at the West Middlesex Hospital. Long before I was elected to Parliament in 1997, first as a nurse and then as a candidate, our door was always open for people to ask for help. "

"We find it extremely upsetting to know that our house is occupied by squatters who appear to believe that they are entitled to do what they wish in our property. Anyone who has experienced the feeling of violation after being burgled will understand the distress caused by intruders who refuse to leave. Obviously, we are working to resolve the situation and get our house back as quickly as possible and would like to thank all those who have expressed their support and sympathy over the last few days - it has meant a great deal to me. "


The comment about their door always being open may have contributed to the current problem!!

Baby boomers

I have always been intrigued by the way my life has centred on West London, given the various detours it has taken.

I was born in West Middlesex Hospital,on the Isleworth/Brentford border, and first went to school close by. I then moved to Plymouth, returned to London for further education (some would say that was a waste of time). After living in North, South and West London, I finally ended up living not a mile from my place of birth. Full circle in fact.

Now I notice that my place of birth, the very maternity ward in which I popped out into the world, is being knocked down, presumably to allow the Primary Care Trust (PCT) to earn some money for new and better facilities. Some of my oldest childhood memories are also associated with the old Victorian blocks which are fast being transformed to a pile of rubble.

I had my adenoids and tonsils removed in the late '50s, and remember being positioned next to the fish tank. It was my job to switch its light out every night when I went to sleep. The few times I forgot, I was given a right telling off by the ward sister. I also remember being dressed in a cowboy outfit to go down to theatre, as part of a cunning plan to take the fear out of the procedure and make it seem like a good old adventure. The next few days I had nothing but ice cream and jelly, so it can't have been all bad.

Now where did I leave that pen I was just using, and what were the names of those people I was with last light? Funny thing that memory.

Just two Keen

The concern surrounding the allowances paid to MPs has recently come home to roost for my current constituency representative, Ann Keen, and her husband Alan. Ann is the Labour MP for Brentford and Isleworth, which includes the West end of Chiswick. Unfortunately the would be conservative voters in this leafy suburb are not sufficient to outvote the traditional labour classes in the rest of her area.
Her husband is the MP for the neighbouring Feltham and Heston area. they live in a family house in Brentford.

Now, I can get from Brentford to Waterloo and on to Westminster in 45 minutes, I am sure they could too, but instead they have taken advantage of the £20,000 living allowance which they are entitled to, to purchase a £500,000 flat fifteen minutes walk from the Houses of Parliament. Whether they rent it out or use it themselves is unclear, however, since 2002 they have claimed a total in excess of £175,000.

Still, there is nothing like keeping it in the family. Ann Keen's sister Sylvia Heal is also an MP. Ann Keen's cousin Lady Glynis Kinnock is an MEP. Ann Keen's cousin's husband Lord Neil Kinnock is Chair of the British Council, former EU Commissioner and former Leader of the Labour Party and former MP. Ann Keen's cousins son Stephen until recently at least was (and maybe still is) the head of the British Council in St Petersburg, Russia and therefore employed by the British Government organisation chaired by his father, Lord Kinnock.

Alan is in his seventies, Ann is 60 this year. Recent photographs of her could give rise to suggestions that some of that afore mentioned £175,000 from public funds may have been spent on a bit of nip and tuck. Has she invented per chance, a new definition of taxidermy? I think we should be told.