Page 26 - She's One Crazy Lady!

As a family we all had nicknames except Andrew who was always, and is, ‘Andrew’. Mum called Dad ‘Sam’; Dad called mum ‘Sam’, Carolyn was ‘Cas’ and Gwynneth was ‘Jimmy’ – chosen by Andrew because he couldn’t pronounce Gwynneth.
I decided to look up the meaning of the word “Tubby”.
“Having an over-abundance of flesh”; “shaped like a tub”; “well-rounded and full in form” and, leaving the best until last, I discovered there was a Denby vase called Tubby that was discussed on a Bargain Hunt Antiques TV programme. Their definition of the
word is: ‘going out in all the wrong places’. Hmm! I can relate to that. I was born to be ‘tubby’.
Being the fourth child, Dad really wanted another boy and had already decided I was going to be called Christopher. Sorry Dad! I followed my Dad’s love of sport, both watching and playing and, for many years, was very much a tomboy. I loved nothing more than messing about with groups of friends, mostly boys, making dens in the nearby woods and playing all kinds of ball games. I remember the hours Dad and I would spend throwing a cricket ball together, the harder, higher and longer the better, and how, for years, I was the champion ball thrower in my early days of teaching. The children could not believe that a ‘girl’ could throw so far, and Dad always said that’s what gave me a powerful serve when I played tennis. I was never a child who played with dolls, although I did love, and will always love, my teddy bear – “Wobert”.
When I was born Mum and Dad had both tried several jobs in the years following the war, but with Dad determined to be his own boss, they decided to venture into the world of business – investing in and running a mobile van, selling groceries and household essentials in the local neighbourhood. This meant that from an early age I was very much looked after by my eldest sister, Cas.
The mobile van progressed to a shop in Barton Seagrave, and we lived above it. We were all expected to work hard and contribute to the business. At the age of nine we moved to Wellingborough and my education was to take on a different format to the great time and happiness I had had at Barton Seagrave Infant and Junior School. More on this later. Mum and Dad bought a shop in Mill Road in Wellingborough and had stalls on Kettering and Wellingborough markets selling fruit and vegetables. They were very successful and soon took on another shop in Field Street in Kettering, a new one in Silver Street in Wellingborough and, for a time, owning what was known as ‘The Spit and Gob’ Pagoda
“ I loved nothing more than messing about with groups of friends, mostly boys, making dens in the nearby woods and playing all kinds of ball games.
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