Last weekend, I was looking through a box of old papers that my parents had kept and I discovered a letter that my father’s godmother had sent him about me. This was written when I was about twelve and it proved that I had been forgiven… read on to find out my crime!
I had just been reading the interesting book: ‘Singing for Mrs Pettigrew – A Story-Maker’s Journey’ by Michael Morpurgo. The acclaimed author shows how he uses incidents in his childhood to weave into his stories. I wonder if this story from my childhood might find itself in one of my children’s books one day?
My great aunt lived in a wonderful old house in Westcliff-on-Sea on the Essex coast. I loved going there every Christmas Eve. I upset her once, quite badly, but it was a total misunderstanding. When my father told me, years later, that she had taken offence at something I had said, I felt awful. I must have been seven or eight, and as soon as we arrived and said hello, I asked my father, “How long have we got until we go?” I wanted to explore her magical garden and I was checking how much time I had to wander around. I expect you can guess what my great aunt thought. Yes, she assumed I hated being there and couldn’t wait to leave. It was the polar opposite! But I never knew about this until after she had died. How I wished I’d known before, so I could have explained and apologised. It was a wonderful and unexpected surprise when she kindly left me something in her Will.
And six days ago, I was thrilled to discover this letter that I hadn’t known existed, which mentions a gift that I hadn’t known that my great aunt had given me. She said: “I intended sending the enclosed book back with you – Rachel is the only one of my ‘Greats’ to try poetry and story writing. This ancient booklet of rhymes was written by Rachel’s great-great-grandfather. I believe I remember rightly when I say that when he retired he intended writing a poem a day.”
A poem a day – sounds like a challenge. Although it’s several decades too late, thanks very much for the amazing gift, Auntie Nance! I’ve had this little book on my shelf half my lifetime, but until now, I never knew how I’d acquired it. Here is one of the poems that James Tee wrote in 1870. I love his neat handwriting, although some of it is so tiny, I need a magnifying glass as well as my glasses!