Whenever Uncle John returned to Brisbane after staying with us, for some long while afterwards the house always seemed very quiet and empty, and after he went back to Australia in 2011, even Mum was moping around for a bit, so she obviously missed him more than she would admit to.
2011, of course, was the year that saw a huge change in Mum's mobility; she broke her ankle on November 4, and ended up in hospital for four and a half months, which neatly covered Christmas and New Year, making it a very different celebration for us all.
I've written in other posts, that when it was decided she would come to live with us permanently, she came home on 28 March 2012 - my 66th birthday.
We all harboured a hope that one day she would eventually recover more mobility, and be able to walk at least a few steps. In the end, we accepted that, because she was confident to weight bear only momentarily - and by doing what we called "the twiddle," transfer from bed to chair to wheelchair - we had to be satisfied with that. At least, once she was ensconced in the wheelchair, we could take her out into the garden, or use wheelchair accessible taxis for check-up visits to hospital or - more importantly, of course - trips to The Ritz! - so she was not completely housebound.
With a month or two, we had settled down into a routine. We had carers coming in four times a day, who were soon accustomed to Mum and her foibles, and Mum got used to be being helped with her personal care.
At that time, Mum was much more aware of what was happening; she could feed herself and drink her tea properly, so mealtimes were a lot quicker.
Naturally, I kept Uncle John right up to date with Mum's progress, and I was thrilled when he said he would come back again in the summer, and stay with us for a month or three. We all looked forward with great anticipation to meeting him at Heathrow.
It was so good to have Uncle John back in the fold with us - as usual, he slotted straight into the family routine, and was such good company. It was a pleasure to have him back.
He also fitted in with the times the carers came to attend to Mum, and waited patiently until it was his turn to use the bathroom.
One of my most abiding (and endearing!) memories of his stay, was the way he was not averse to helping with Mum, in between the carers' calls. At that stage, Mum knew when she wanted to go to the loo, and would ask to be taken on the glidabout commode. Uncle John was there, helping her to get seated on the glider, and cheerfully wheeling her into the bathroom; and the great thing was, Mum did not complain about him helping her.
Uncle John was still a whizz at shopping in Tesco, pushing the trolley up and down the aisles even more quickly than I could keep up with him! As always, he was extremely good company.
We had our little day trips out; again, I booked a table for Tea at the Ritz, which Mum really looked forward to, and everything went well on the day.
We also decided to have another trip down memory lane - this time to the Isle of Wight, where my Uncle Austin, Mum and Uncle John, had spent part of their childhood.
I got in touch with the Isle of Wight County Press, and they were very interested in Uncle John's imminent return to St Helens. They ran a piece about him - "John to see changes after 75 years away" - and how he and his family had lived at Yarborough Cottages, until they moved to London. He went to the Church School in St Helen's, learned to play golf, and his sister, my Mum, liked having a railway line near the bottom of their garden. She also remembered a beautiful rose that stood in the garden, and how it went up and over the top of their front door.
It was brilliant to have this advance information in the paper; Uncle John said he hoped the story about his forthcoming return would jog people's memories, and if there were any old friends who remembered him, he would love to hear from them.
I made reservations for the hotel and the ferry, and at the end of July, Wendy drove us to Portsmouth for the crossing to the island.
We had a marvellous stay. People were so kind and helpful; and the reporter from the County Press did a follow-up interview with Uncle John. We went back to St Helens; Yarborough Cottages are still there, and the family who live in Uncle John's old house invited us in, and showed us around. Uncle John said, "The cottages are neat, but so small! I wonder how two adults and three children could fit inside!" But of course they did, and they all had a very happy childhood.
To our delight, the rose bush outside the front door was still there, and from what we could ascertain, it was the same one Uncle John and my Mum remember so well. A little more straggly, perhaps, than when it was a young plant, but still blooming, and still fragrant.
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| Uncle John, Wendy and me outside Yarborough Cottages |
Although our trip was a flying visit, we made some lovely friends, and Uncle John said how much he hoped he would be able to come back for a longer visit.
As a post script, shortly after we got back home, there was a letter waiting for Uncle John, from an old school friend; he was a few months older than Uncle John, and about to celebrate his 90th birthday. He had read the report in the paper about our visit, and wanted to keep in touch. It was a shame we hadn't been able to see him, but we sent him a birthday card and it was so nice Uncle John and this gentleman were able to have a chat on the phone, and catch up on each other's lives from so long ago.
All too soon, Uncle John's stay with us came to an end, and we had to take him back to Heathrow. Mum was much quieter and more thoughtful this time, and said how much she would miss him, and how we all hoped he would be back again the following year.
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