Tributes
Our June
For the coalminer’s daughter, our Miss England, who graced the silver screen,
Beloved Mum, our June, for all that you are, for all you have been,
Born to Marjorie and David, Kiveton Park, 1941,
A cherished only baby – who knew what you would become?
Tin bath in front of the fireplace, gas lights and an outside loo,
Men with black coal dust on their face – things so familiar to you,
Hiding from rent collectors after money –funds the family did lack,
But they loved their daughter so sunny and you loved them right back,
Explosions in the mines, broken ribs but mining men were tough,
Waiting outside the pub at closing time – a childhood happy but tough,
Giving Sunday school lessons, teaching ballroom dance –in Village life you played your part,
Singing in the choir at every chance, you loved it with all of your heart,
And there was lots of fun to be had on holiday to Cleethorpes and Skegness,
While Marjorie cleaned Mrs Moyland’s pad to make the price a little less,
And it was in those seaside towns that in beauty pageants you did compete,
Winning them all hands down – every single heat!
Soon you waved goodbye to your Mam, Dad and Josie as you got on the train,
Bound for Miss England in the Big Smoke where you won again!
A free spirit with a borrowed swimsuit and fire in your belly,
Watched by your parents and neighbours to boot, all huddled round the telly,
How your blue eyes sparkled underneath the ‘Miss England’ crown,
A modelling contract followed and to London, your family moved down,
Yet to retain your title you were too young it was deemed,
But nothing could stop the admiration of your loveliness it seemed,
Ideal Holiday Girl ’58, a Miss Uk entry were achievements you held dear,
Though a ‘Welcome Home Miss England’ banner hung in Kiveton for many a year,
As a dress model you excelled, you were everyone’s favourite honey,
Then you landed the role of hostess of ITV’s ‘Double Your Money’,
Your village was oh so proud but there you did not stay,
As soon as you were allowed, you were off to the USA,
With your grace and your beauty, it was easy to find a role over there,
Working with the famed Mr Teasy-Weasy who styled your gorgeous hair,
But it was Peter who stole your heart as you waltzed upon the Luceum dance floor,
You loved him from the very start and could not have wished for more,
Such a glamorous pair, holidays in Cannes so flash,
Sandwiches and sleeping in the car – you didn’t care, that you had no cash!
In ’62, you became man and wife with a first home in North Weald,
Silk sofas, green lawn, the perfect life –a marriage truly fulfilled,
Always grounded even when you achieved success on the silver screen,
In ‘Carry on up the Khyber’ and ‘Goldfinger’ no less, June Cooper could be seen!
But your biggest role was as a Mother, which began one Christmas Eve,
You loved me like no other and your magic you began to weave,
The nurses they wrapped me up tight and then took me along,
To the carol singers in the winter’s night so my soul would be filled with song,
Always song and always laughter – it meant so much to me,
We lived happy ever after like Darren and Samantha, Bewitched, on TV!,
We moved to Cecil Close where you’ve stayed for forty years,
A circle of friends and a husband that you love most and whom you hold so dear,
You loved to escape to the sun and enjoy jolly holidays so good,
Happy times with grandkids Christa and Ollie in your pad at Tangle Wood,
As I look at your now grown up granddaughter, I see so much of you in her face,
Together I hope we have taught her to display the same joie de vivre and grace,
Even the Florida sun could not shine quite as brightly as you,
You’ve brought warmth and joy to everyone – it is just what you do,
A loyal friend and a beautiful wife with a capacity to love like no other,
A fairy story of a captivating life – my vibrant, beauty queen of a mother,
How we have always adored you, how we have truly laughed,
Together we’ve roared and giggled when you’ve done something quite daft,
Sitting in one place with pals in another or forgetting the dog one afternoon, ,
I’d say ‘ ‘that’s my Mother!’, your friends would sigh ‘Oh June!’
Yoga, cooking, corgi walking – you did it all with ease,
Singing in your operatic way or just talking, I’ll always hear your voice in the breeze,
A life well lived, a lady well loved – I know you will always be there,
To teach the things that nothing should come above and for the trivia, not to care,
Our June, it is a privilege to belong to you and to always be your little girl,
You’re in my heart like a song that never fades – my treasured Mum and my own Miss World.
Goodnight Darling Dad
Sleep peacefully darling Dad,
No more battling for your air,
Drift into the arms of Heaven,
Knowing how much we all care,
Let us watch over you
As you watched over us,
Float away on a gentle cloud,
No more trauma, tears or fuss,
While we hate to give you up
We know the time is right,
Dream sweetly now, dear Dad,
You no longer have to fight,
When life becomes hard work,
Its time for pastures new,
Move gently on to a better world
And take our love with you,
Don’t worry dalring Dad
Of what you leave behind,
For we will always love you so
And our hearts remain entwined.
Bluebell Rise 1stDec 2008
I visited you today at Bluebell Rise,
Imagined you there before my eyes,
Felt your presence, your warm embrace,
Closed my eyes
And pictured your face,
Next Spring when the bluebells start to appear,
I’ll come back again, just to be near,
While I’m away forget-me-not,
As I think you always in your woodland spot.
My Nan
Today I’d like to reminisce about the Nan I loved
for just a little while,
All of four foot nothing,
with the biggest ever smile,
She was funny, smart and witty,
A little lady with snowy white hair,
She left me with very special memories
and here’s some I’d like to share:
The way she would cut my sandwiches
tidily into quarters,
Even though I’m a 35 year old woman,
I was still her little granddaughter,
Her obsession with stocking up
on multiple toilet roll,
A habit which was becoming
well beyond control,
When asked if she needed any,
she’d just never decline,
With 30 in the house,
she’d order another nine!
The same with kitchen rolls,
And with boxes of tissues too,
Though quite what she did with it all,
No-one really knew!
She was partial to a sherry,
And chocolate was her favourite treat,
A little something alcoholic,
and a little something sweet,
She’d take me along to Safeway
when I was just a girl,
Thoughts of sticky doughnuts,
sending my mind in a whirl,
Straight to the Bakery Counter,
my little legs would race,
to ensure that I got the doughnut
with the nicest smiley face,
You see I always wanted the one
with the orange Smartie as a nose,
And Woe betide poor Nan,
if the wrong ‘doughnut face” she chose,
For on would go the frown,
Out with the bottom lip,
And I’m ashamed to say that I’d sulk,
for the remainder of the shopping trip,
But Nan was always there for me,
Very kind and ever knowing,
She’d try to pass on her skills to me,
like knitting and like sewing,
Sadly her teaching sessions
never went without a hitch,
(even though I am a nurse
and should know how to stitch!)
So she gave up on the sewing,
and we decided I would knit,
But I was just so hopeless,
that she simply had to quit,
Nan, you were good at so many things,
You loved your life at Chestnut Court,
where playing Bingo in the communal lounge,
was quite your favourite sport,
You had many happy years there with Grandad,
You were never, ever apart,
And when he left us less than a year ago,
I know it broke your heart,
While it pains me so much to say goodbye,
To the Nan that I adore,
I know that Grandad will be waiting,
And you’ll be together once more.
To Mum – Thankyou and Goodbye
It was the simple pleasures that you loved the best,
Memories to treasure as from this life, you take your rest,
The garden full of flowers especially Sweet Peas,
Observing the fish in the pond for hours – little things such as these,
Clematis in bloom, the frogs starting to call,
Watching the neighbours from your front room – how you loved it all,
Happy, vibrant, we’ll miss you looking on the bright side of life,
Mother, grandmother, sister and a loving wife,
You came into the world, the eldest of three,
Attended High School for Girls then trained as a Secretary,
But it was as an estate agent that your skills you did display,
Running your late Father’s property company for the rest of your days,
A talented seamstress too, you really loved to sew,
Clothes galore we did accrue – kitted out from head to toe,
Home was the hub of darning, making and mending,
You joined a needlework club as your passion was never ending,
A veritable queen of stitching, you also had a great swing,
Always itching to get on a course as playing golf was your thing,
And It was at your regular Golf Club back in 1984,
For a round you went along but ended up with something more….
For my amazing Grandmother, a plan had started to hatch,
As she’d spotted an eligible man whom she thought the perfect match,
It was a stroke of luck that she was absolutely right,
You met Joe , you smiled, you spoke – it was love at first sight,
A happy marriage of 34 years that was never below par,
Lovely holidays you both spent to Barbados, Kenya and Spain,
A partnership Heaven sent, whose love would never wane,
To all of us you were so dear and, Mum, you still are,
You loved The Archers on Radio 4, Terry Wogan on Radio 2,
Playing Solitaire you did adore and jigsaws you loved to do,
Classical music and Cliff Richard were your favourite sounds,
The Tv was on if you could watch snooker, tennis or golf rounds,
Or Holby City, Casualty and Escape to the Country,
But there was one activity that you really liked to see,
When from your armchair, you could watch John and Hugh,
Moments precious and rare which we will look back on too,
Grandchildren playing out, kicking a ball and laughter,
Or watching Joe potter about (you’d always check up on him after!),
“Mind the flowers!” you would call, “And the apple tree!”
But you didn’t really mind at all as you delighted in their glee,
A sweet tooth accounted for your secret chocolate stash,
Once it had amounted, in the evening you would dash
to nibble a square or two with a glass of wine or Scotch,
Your grandkids envied you for your sweetie supply top notch!
Dear Mum, you were the true thread of our family binding us all together,
Never a truer word was said than we will miss you so much and forever,
And though our hearts deeply ache for now that you are gone,
The memories that you helped to make will always live on,
You didn’t like nonsense or gush so I just want to say,
Thankyou, Mum, so very much – until we meet again someday.
Sage x
Strictly Chris
Words to describe my Auntie Chris:
Gentle yet assertive, intelligent and aware,
If I say she loved animals more than people,
Well, I know she wouldn’t care,
Talented photographer, creative writer,
She had a way with words,
An artist and a painter,
An interest in the world but quite a homebird,
A very dear friend to many,
As an auntie, she was thoughtful and kind,
We tried to tempt her to Scotland to see us,
But she’d never leave her beloved cats behind,
She preferred to stay home in St Johns Grove,
Where she’d lived for all her years,
Now the houses around hers were boarded up,
Leaving it deserted and austere,
Chris was never lonely,
Even though neighbours were no more,
Cos every stray moggy in the vicinity
beat a path straight to her door,
Cats and hedgehogs and birds alike,
All were dutifully fed,
Although for every feathered friend on her feeders,
The pusscats made sure several were dead!
But her favourite feline friend
was a feral beast named Tigger,
So unlike his friendly namesake
That we couldn’t help but snigger,
Now Tigger was no pampered puss,
Preferring life outdoors,
So when a trip to the vets was pending,
He sharpened up his claws!
Chris hailed a taxi,
Popped Tigger in the back,
Who promptly opened up his bowels
And launched a gas attack!
Pity the poor Taxi driver who did accept the fare,
His tip was ‘never transport a feral cat
If you want to breathe pure air’!
Yes, Chris seemed to love the unloveable,
Every waif and every stray,
Who could forget Polly?
Her formidable African Grey?
Rescued from a life on board
a Merchant Navy ship,
A talented voice mimic, well renowned
For giving quite a nip,
Referred to by Helga as ‘that bloody parrot’
Is it any wonder
That many of Chris friends breathed a sigh of relief
Once Polly was six feet under?
Now despite all of Chris’s good points,
I think she’d be the first to admit,
That, at times, she could be indecisive,
Winding up my Dad just a bit,
On several family occasions,
Against his military mind she was pitted,
But Dad was consistently on the losing side,
Often frustrated but always outwitted,
Family visits were spent in the garden,
Where football we used to play,
Russell in a Chelsea strip, me in Liverpool’s,
There was usually an affray!
And pity the poor neighbours
Who we tried hard to appease,
They must have wearied of the knock on the door,
“Can we have our ball back please?”
Now it may come as a surprise,
that Chris was a ‘footballer’ supreme!
And she was an enthusiastic member,
Of the Edwinstowe Ladies Team,
They trained hard and they played hard,
Tho’ it was plain to see,
They were always keen for the halftime whistle,
For a fag and a G and T,
When she wasn’t playing, she was writing
For the Hull Daily Mail,
Typing up various sports reports,
With Margaret, Isobel, Julie and Gale,
And, of course, for many years,
She worked for the Hull NHS,
As a Medical secretary in Radiology,
I hear she was the best,
She welcomed new recruits with warmth and humour,
And when Maggie Wingfield joined the team,
She’d found a new best buddy,
To have adventures quite extreme,
They ice skated, bowled, played tennis
Even going to Venice for a day!
Although both conscientious workers,
They surely liked to play!
Margaret even managed to persuade Chris
To go camping in the Yorkshire Dales,
A memorable weekend for them both,
And one of Margaret’s favourite tales,
They walked and laughed and took photos,
But when it was time for bed,
Chris was extremely well prepared,
‘I don’t want to be cold’ she said,
She donned so many layers,
Fearing a chill in the toes,
That she was totally wedged in her sleeping bag,
As she was wearing that many clothes!
Helga was another special friend,
They met at the age of seven,
She’d take Chris to the Lincoln Agricultural Show
Which was Chris’s idea of heaven,
And Chris was asked to be bridesmaid,
55 years ago when Helga wed,
Though never a bride herself,
‘waiting for the perfect man’, she said,
I think she’d have settled for Pasha,
From the Strictly Come Dancing TV Show,
Whenever she saw his Quickstep,
Her eyes were quite aglow,
She loved watching black and white movies of
Ginger Rogers and Fred Astaire,
And she liked a good British comedy,
And thought Benny Hill beyond compare,
But her own heart was always in Lincolnshire,
In Swaton, where she was evacuated,
At six years old, with sister Marie,
And an instruction ‘Not to be Separated’,
They lived with Granny Green,
And life was far from dull,
They became fond of the lady who opened her house,
To two little girls from Hull,
She made some lifelong friends there,
Elsie and Frank and Wally,
I remember going back there myself,
On family holidays jolly,
Memories of new born chicks,
And harvest time in the fields,
Who would have thought that so many years later
The memories that Swaton would yield?
And now I’d like to ask you to take a moment and think
For a while,
To recollect, to remember and allow yourself a smile,
I hope you have enjoyed this chance to reminisce,
And I know you will hold dear your own memories of Chris.
Dear auntie Chris, your family, your many friends, will not forget your sense of humour, your voice, your face,
And now we will take you home to rest forever in Swaton, your beloved place.