Chapter 1 - Mum

In the early hours of December 22^nd, 1932 in Leeds, Maureen Coope (Mum) was born under a pure white sky.  Pure crisp thick flakes were dancing their way down to the frozen Earth below.  It was an unforgiving winter.  The South was the most industrialised of the City, Hunslet was known for the Hunslet Engine Works, who produced narrow gauge lightweight locomotives to work in the slate quarries of North Wales.  Hunslet was known for its pottery and of course Rugby.  It was1932 when Hunslet, after a very lean period, became Yorkshire League Trophy Winners, however, sadly lost in the finals at Wembley.

 Mum told me that after her birth, weighing just over a bag of sugar, she was placed at the foot of the bed, as there was not much hope of survival.  She had told me that it was her Grandfather who had picked her up, held her tight in a muslin cloth and had fed her with a pipette.  Mum had said that her Grandfather was a wonderful, incredibly kind gentleman.  Looking back on photographs, I can see the warmth emanating from his big dark brown eyes.  He was a striking fella, with distinguished features, dark grey hair, tall, with an air of importance about him.  His silver watch would always be placed in the top pocket of his smart, but old, brown suit.

Mum spent her childhood in the back to back terraces of the Woodhouse Hill’s.  The streets had yards to house the shared toilets, whilst clothes hung above the cobbled streets on washing lines, which were strung between the terraces.  Mum attended Hunslet Carr School, where the smaller children would be put to bed in the afternoon for a sleep; boys at one side and the girls at the other.  Mum was a greedy child; whatever was going round she managed to get, scarlet fever, chicken pox, measles and mumps, to name just a few. 

Her Mother, Frances worked at a Tailors on Hillidge Road, Hunslet.  However, one evening shortly after Frances left work, the boiler blew the roof off – fortunately thanks to timing, nobody was killed.   Frances, was a typical northern woman of the time; she was a no-nonsense lady, hard working, possessing a strong matriarchal character.  With a plumpish figure and thick dark curly hair, you would never say “no” to her.          

When World War II broke out, Mum and her older brother, Brian would jump over the wall that separated their school from their street to run home when they were frightened.  Although, when the air raid sirens emanated the skies, the children of the school would be hurried to the air raid shelter and issued gas masks whilst they all huddled together.  Whereas at other times, Mum and Brian would charge to their coal cellar and ‘hide out’ under the corrugated iron sheets.  The houses in these terraces had their cellar walls knocked through and covered with plaster, thus if their house was bombed, they could easily knock through to next door.  Mum had told me that when she was 8 or 9 years old, she remembered a bomb dropping on Middleton Clearings.  She had told me how all street lamps were out and it was total darkness.  She remembered creeping out of the cellar to see the sky illuminated by beams of light, her and her brother ran back down to the cellar, hearts beating so fast, she said that she thought it would burst.   

One particular summer’s day, Mum, Brian and a crew of other Woodhouse Hillites were playing near Middleton Woods at the top of Old Run Road, when they suddenly heard the sound of an aircraft, they all froze in silence; as one child dared to look up, he screamed “cor blimey it’s a German bomber”.

The children gazed to the skies as they witnessed a German plane wearily flying over head, belching out great plumes of smoke.  As the air craft wavered, the children were in utter disbelief as the German’s bailed out.  Brian had told me how he, Mum and the other excited children ran as fast as they could to catch the Germans and hold them prisoners.  They never were able to find them, however, were told that the men had eventually landed in Wakefield!  One bomb that was dropped nearby was on Waterloo Road; a huge gaping hole was left in the middle of the tram lines – a reminder of how close it had been.  There were massive guns housed at Parkside; after firing, huge jagged pieces of metal, as big as your finger could be found scattered around the streets.  One member of the ‘gang’ came onto a handgranade at the top of Old Run Road.  The excited child raced home to his cellar to hit it with a hammer to see what would happen.  Sadly, the boy was killed outright, whereas his sister was seriously injured. 

Mum’s stories of childhood sound exciting, full of joy and merriment, although maybe too hard to bear at times.  My Grandparents were strict, as was all the parents at that time.  Children were seen and not heard, they certainly did not join in family meals; the parents would eat first and then the children would be served.  People did not expect anything in those days, thus as my Uncle has told me, this made you ‘King of the World’.  If one dared to moan – someone would pipe up, “What do you expect there is a war on Sonny Jim”.

Mum later became a Girl Guide and was part of the Girls Brigade in Hunslet.  She spoke of this early time of her life with such fondness.  Mum went to Switzerland with the Guides – she spoke of camping in gently rolling hills and recalled such wild beauty.  “Breathtaking” was her word to describe the alpine lakes.  She often spoke of her trips to the Rex cinema on Dewsbury Road and how she would run across the fields to Rothwell to visit her father in the sanatorium at St. George’s hospital.  He suffered with Tuberculosis in the spine for over three years and never really fully recovered.  He would lay in a leather frame riveted onto steel that would cover his back and down one leg to the knee.  St George’s hospital originated as a workhouse and infirmary for the Hunslet Union, later transferred to the Leeds Health Committee in 1934.  She was very close to her father and spoke very highly of him.  He had worked as a lift attendant at Mathiers Robinson (now Debenhams) a department store in Leeds in his later years. I get the feeling he was a tender gentle man with a good sense of humour.  Sadly, I never got to know my Granddad as he passed away before I was born at the age of 51; he had been a poorly man for many years.  Mum had said that her father would overcome adversity by lifting people momentarily up out of any situation with great fits of laughter.  How I wish I could have met him.  Mum said his motto was “If I did not laugh, I would die”.

At 14 Mum’s first job was at the Fish Canners on Balm Road, Hunslet.  Within a year, she joined a local Pittman college and trained to become a shorthand typist.  Mum also worked at CWS Brushworks in Hunslet Carr and it is here where she met new friends and took up their interest in cycling.  Mum enjoyed the thrill of the great outdoors.  It was at this time in her life when she saw very little of her brother, as he was called up for National Service at the age of 18.  On return he worked hard shifts on the railways at Leeds Central Station.  Brian was a tall, handsome man, with striking dark brown eyes.  He too had a good sense of humour, although his humour was rather dry.  Brian also had a love of the outdoors; however, his passion was motor bikes.  I once recall my Grandma telling me of the thrill she had whilst riding passenger behind her son.

After joining the Clarion cycling club, Mum was soon befriended by an older red haired gentleman, named Vernon.  He was a serious cyclist, 11 years her senior, slim built and at 5 foot 7 inches tall was not much taller than her.  Mum was soon quickly swept off her feet.  They would cycle across the length and breadth of the Country.  Wales was done in a day!  Whenever Mum would struggle, Vernon would gently place his hand at the back of her saddle, with a swift push; Mum would cruise along, thick dark wavy hair blowing in the wind behind them.  Vernon was later to become my Father.

In her late teens, Mum and Dad were married.  After living with relatives for a short while, they uprooted and moved to Arnold, Nottinghamshire, where Dad worked as a Ripper down the Nottinghamshire mines.  As Dad was “down the pit”, Mum worked for the National Coal Board as a shorthand typist, coming home to cook stew and dumplings for when Dad rode home, kicking his dust ridden boots off at the door.

They moved around Nottinghamshire, as Dad worked at a variety of different pits.  They eventually settled for a while in Mansfield, where they bought a bungalow for just under £2,000.  Not many people enjoyed foreign holidays back then; however, Mum and Dad would often hire a camper van and travel around Europe.  The Black forest in Germany was Mum’s favourite place.  Wherever, Mum found herself, as a good loyal friend, she would always keep in touch with her dearest friends from school.  Loyalty and friendships were fundamental features of Mum’s warm and strong personality.

After having children in their later life, they moved back to West Yorkshire to be nearer Mum’s family.  Sadly, when I was just two years old, after many years of marriage, Mum and Dad divorced.  Mum, my older sister Jane (not her real name) and I eventually moved back to Leeds, still keeping regular contact with Dad.  Mum was a real “mumsy” Mum.  She always adorned an apron or a “pinny”, as she would say.  Mum’s meals were to die for, especially her sponge pudding and home made custard.  As a teenager, I would often bring my friends home for treacle sponge or spotted dick.  Then I would run my fingers round the bowl where the fresh mixture would be stuck to the sides. 

As Jane flew the nest, Mum and I became very close and shared many wonderful moments together.   Sunday was our swimming day, where we would walk to the local baths and treat ourselves to an orange aero chocolate bar on the long walk back.  Mum was an excellent swimmer, as was my sister; I just managed to keep afloat!

As I turned 13, Mum and I went on a coach trip to Sol, Austria.  I think my Dad funded the trip as he gave me more money, whilst waving us off on the huge double decker coach.  I recall being so excited as Mum and I were seated on the top deck at the very front.  What a glorious wonderful view we had.  Mum was enthralled by the amazing scenery as we cruised through France and Germany.  Many times I would let out a cry and squeeze Mum as tight as I could as the coach careered round sharp bends at the top of the mountains.  It really did feel like you were balancing on thin air.  For that fleeting moment you were at the top of the World.    After what felt like a week on the coach, we eventually stopped at our destination and with great anticipation, we rushed to grab our things and be off.  Looking out of the window I saw beautiful alpine cabins, hills that went on forever and a band straight ahead playing Austrian Music.  The band looked amazing in their National costumes and delicately painted footwear.  Mum walked down the steps of the coach first, when all of a sudden, she vanished from sight.  I howled with a nervous laughter, when I realised Mum had dropped down a small hole in the grass.  People came rushing from all angles to help lift Mum out and check that she was alright.  Mum shot me a menacing stare, when she noticed the laughter tears rolling down my cheeky red face.  Fortunately, except for a little limp, Mum was in fine fettle and apart from a swift tap on the back of my bottom, she got over my laughter.  Still to this day, I laugh when I see people fall, I do not really mean to and it is rather embarrassing at my age.  I am smiling now thinking of the event as if it was yesterday.

What a glorious time we had, exploring the surroundings and going “bear hunting”, well we pretended!  We went on chair lifts to the top of the mountains, looking down on the clouds below, as crazy thrill enthusiasts jumped from boards in the sky.    Mum and I were very excited as in the middle of the first week we were going on a coach trip to Berchtesgaden.  What a beautiful clear day it was.  Bavaria is very close to the Austrian border so I was secretly hoping that we were not going to spend forever and a day back on a coach again!.  I was seated near the window and held on to Mum’s hand as the coach somehow clung on to the edge of the winding alpine roads.  We marauded through fertile valleys, dreaming farming villages, whilst watching the cattle spotted across the incredible mountain ranges.  Mum was right – Berchtesgaden was a beautiful place; it was clear that tradition had not lost its value here.  People strolled along the paths in their leather trousers, felt jackets and traditional style hats. 

At 2713m Mount Watzmann is Germany’s third tallest mountain; however, it was not this peak that we were heading to, as Mum and I were looking forward to arriving at Kehlstein Mountain; home to Kehlsteinhaus (Eagle’s Nest).  On arrival, I clung to Mum to ensure her safe exit from the coach and we gazed dreamily at the high peaks of the Obersalzberg area; the site of Hitler’s former residence and alpine hide out.    There were underground bunker complexes below the mountain, similar to an extensive fortress like system, built as an air raid shelter.  Mum, I and the other tourists had to board yet another bus; however, this was a specially equipped mountain bus that was raring to take us for the four mile, hair raising drive along the edge of the cliff to a high mountain parking lot just below Eagle’s nest.  The brass lined lift that transported us up through Kehlstein Mountain was indeed the original lift that Hitler would have used. 

The next day was spent in the romantic city of Salzburg, with its dreaming spires, romantic gardens and green rolling hills.  As Mum and I strolled along the Mirabell gardens and the mighty marveloup Hohensalzburg Fortress, Mum pointed out the spires that seemed to dominate the entire skyline.  We headed for Mozartplatz square, where I had my photograph taken with a chocolate ice-cream alongside the Mozart memorial.  I managed to spend all of my spending money here on all the usual classic kitschy mementos.  Of course, one cannot go to Salzburg without doing the Sound of Music tour!  Mum and I chilled on another bus listening to the Lonely Goatherd, whilst watching the hills come alive with the sound of music.

It was not long after this special holiday – just Mum and me, that Mum began her fascination with spiritualism.  My grandma and great grandma had both being spiritualists, therefore, this is probably where her curiosity came from.  However, I must confess, however, intrigued I was, I was kind of freaked out by the whole affair.  Although, Mum seemed to really enjoy her evenings out at church and she did seem to meet many new people and form many friendships.  As a teenager, this made me very happy as I was often worried about going out and leaving her at home with no company except of course, the dog and cat.

 In time, Mum began speaking at churches and even started traveling the Country.  It is during the course of Mum’s spiritual crusade that she met my step-father, Allan.  In the first instance, Allan seemed stand offish in his demeanor.  He was a tall man with snow white hair brushed off his face, highlighting his highly polished forehead.  His square rimmed glasses enhanced his piercing blue eyes, whilst his little moustache bore a resemblance to the photographs I had seen in Eagles Nest!   Allan’s first wife, Sally had died and they had not had any children, thus this is the probable reason why Allan had no idea how to interact with me.  He was much older than Mum, although she seemed very happy and content. 

Mum and Allan married very quickly and she left our home to live with him nearby.  I was welcome to move with her, however, I decided at the age of eighteen to start up on my own and therefore, moved to a flat nearby my work.  I must confess that when Mum and Allan married, even though I was extremely happy for them both, I was just a tad jealous.  I had had my Mum to myself for quite a while and I suppose it did kind of hit me like a brick.  However, in time, as I got to know Allan, I realised what a kind and generous man he really was.  He was a sincere, loyal person, who would give you the world if he could.  Mum no longer had to struggle on her own.  He showed true chivalry, as he opened doors, carried bags and even cooked and cleaned as he brought Mum a coffee and a sandwich, which he would have just sliced from his fresh home baked bread.

  After my Saturday morning driving lessons, my instructor would drop me off in Leeds City centre, where I would meet Mum and Allan for breakfast.  We went to the same café each week, where Allan would buy me a full English and a freshly ground coffee.  Mum would beam with pride and gently tap his arm as he brought our drinks over.  “Isn’t he kind to us”, she would say with glee.

Mum still stayed in contact with Dad; their friendship never faltered and I suppose I was lucky to have a new step-father and a biological father that both thought the world of me.   However, I have often come between the two and depending on your point of view will depend on whether I truly was lucky or unlucky!

Mum and Allan had a very happy eleven to twelve years together, before Mum began to get poorly.  They traveled to churches up and down the country and often went on coach trips to Belgium, Germany and France.  They cruised around in their little car and enjoyed days out in Skipton, where Mum would shop till she dropped – quite literally.

When my son came along, Mum’s first grandchild, Mum said that her life was now complete.  She had everything she could have wished for.  Mum and Allan adored little Marcus and pleaded to care for him whilst I went back to work part-time.  How lucky was I?

After work, I would leave the bus at 2.30pm at the top of Dewsbury Road, Beeston in Leeds, where Mum would be standing proudly with her Grandson in his pram.  Always with a huge smile on her face and a tale to tell what my son had done that day.  As Marcus started nursery and I returned to higher education, Mum and Dad would share the care of their Grandson.  I was very fortunate to have 3 people all willing to help me.  Without Mum, I would not have been able to go on to university and I certainly would not have been able to still go out and enjoy myself with my friends.  Mum and Allan bought me a computer on starting college and even funded my rent for the first month.  Mum was my friend, my baby sitter, my relationship and financial advisor; she helped me out of many sticky situations; she was my rock!