My aunt Elsie was a lovely person. She never married but she wasn't at all "spinsterish" and she was the nearest thing to a grandma I ever knew. She was my mother's oldest sister, 13 years older than Mum, and had been a substitute mother to her after their own mother, my grandmother, died when Mum was only 14 years old.
Auntie Elsie wasn't, actually, called Elsie at all. Her names were Esther Alice Mary but her father said she looked like his sister, Elsie, so she was known as Elsie from babyhood. As an older woman she was rather plump and cuddly, kind and good-natured but always ready with a sharp word if she felt you had stepped out of line. She was the one you could go to, as others went to their grandmothers, when things weren't going as well as you'd like; who would let you stay the night and sleep with her in her big, oak bed and who loved you, no matter what.
She was born in 1896 and left school when she was 14 to become an apprentice baker. For some years she worked for the Brooks family in St Annes, who had a bakery there. She lived with the family and maintained a friendship with them for the rest of her life. She was a very keen swimmer and spent a lot of time at the beach swimming in the sea. When the open-air swimming pool opened, on St Annes sea front, she tried to teach Mum to swim. Mum was terrified, muscles rigid with fear, and sank. Typically Elsie, who never was a patient soul, told her young sister that she's never make a swimmer so get out of the water and just look pretty in a bathing suit. Mum never did learn to swim and never went into any stretch of water deeper than her knees for the rest of her life.
After World War 1, when her first boyfriend was killed, Elsie started to spend a lot of time with relations in Ambleside. They also had a bakery and Elsie used to help them out, on "working holidays". Before too long she met a young local Lake District farmer and, eventually, they became engaged. Elsie was, by then, back living with her parents at Church and Oswaldtwistle Station where her father was Station Master.
The couple had been engaged for about 6 months and preparations for the wedding were under way when Elsie received a letter from her cousin in Ambleside. The news it contained was devastating. The fiancé (who's name I have never known) had, apparently, got a local girl pregnant. The event had, so it seems, been the result of a "one night stand" and he had no intention of a relationship with the girl. His father, however, had other ideas and it was made very clear that, to remain heir to the farm, he must break off his engagement with Elsie and marry the girl as soon as possible. And that is just what he did. So different to today's morality, was it better that way?
Auntie Elsie never mentioned any of this to me, it was my mother who told me the story. Elsie just got on with life, running the baker's shop in West End that her father bought when he retired from the Railways and, subsequently, the shop she bought in Church. She remained the archetypical "big sister" to Mum and, tellingly, was the only member of Mum's family whose death brought a tear to my Dad's eyes.
She used to tell me that I was too much like her for my own good. She said I bustled and hurried and took the world on my shoulders just as she had done when she was younger. In her mid 60s, when she had serious heart problems, severe arthritis and a thyroid deficiency, she warned, "You'll end up just like me". I'm only a year younger than she was when she died. Hopefully, she wasn't entirely right but I hope I am a bit like her in my personality. I didn't know anyone, who knew her, who didn't like and respect her.
I had been married 3 months when she died, in December 1962. My husband helped to carry her coffin when she was buried at the Catholic cemetery in Altham, alongside her parents. Her name was added to the headstone but I believe all the stones have been removed and the church demolished. It doesn't matter, really. Auntie Elsie lives on in our hearts, my eldest brother swears he often has "conversations" with her - he doesn't say if she answers him. She was a remarkable lady, without a doubt.
Auntie Elsie wasn't, actually, called Elsie at all. Her names were Esther Alice Mary but her father said she looked like his sister, Elsie, so she was known as Elsie from babyhood. As an older woman she was rather plump and cuddly, kind and good-natured but always ready with a sharp word if she felt you had stepped out of line. She was the one you could go to, as others went to their grandmothers, when things weren't going as well as you'd like; who would let you stay the night and sleep with her in her big, oak bed and who loved you, no matter what.
She was born in 1896 and left school when she was 14 to become an apprentice baker. For some years she worked for the Brooks family in St Annes, who had a bakery there. She lived with the family and maintained a friendship with them for the rest of her life. She was a very keen swimmer and spent a lot of time at the beach swimming in the sea. When the open-air swimming pool opened, on St Annes sea front, she tried to teach Mum to swim. Mum was terrified, muscles rigid with fear, and sank. Typically Elsie, who never was a patient soul, told her young sister that she's never make a swimmer so get out of the water and just look pretty in a bathing suit. Mum never did learn to swim and never went into any stretch of water deeper than her knees for the rest of her life.
After World War 1, when her first boyfriend was killed, Elsie started to spend a lot of time with relations in Ambleside. They also had a bakery and Elsie used to help them out, on "working holidays". Before too long she met a young local Lake District farmer and, eventually, they became engaged. Elsie was, by then, back living with her parents at Church and Oswaldtwistle Station where her father was Station Master.
The couple had been engaged for about 6 months and preparations for the wedding were under way when Elsie received a letter from her cousin in Ambleside. The news it contained was devastating. The fiancé (who's name I have never known) had, apparently, got a local girl pregnant. The event had, so it seems, been the result of a "one night stand" and he had no intention of a relationship with the girl. His father, however, had other ideas and it was made very clear that, to remain heir to the farm, he must break off his engagement with Elsie and marry the girl as soon as possible. And that is just what he did. So different to today's morality, was it better that way?
Auntie Elsie never mentioned any of this to me, it was my mother who told me the story. Elsie just got on with life, running the baker's shop in West End that her father bought when he retired from the Railways and, subsequently, the shop she bought in Church. She remained the archetypical "big sister" to Mum and, tellingly, was the only member of Mum's family whose death brought a tear to my Dad's eyes.
She used to tell me that I was too much like her for my own good. She said I bustled and hurried and took the world on my shoulders just as she had done when she was younger. In her mid 60s, when she had serious heart problems, severe arthritis and a thyroid deficiency, she warned, "You'll end up just like me". I'm only a year younger than she was when she died. Hopefully, she wasn't entirely right but I hope I am a bit like her in my personality. I didn't know anyone, who knew her, who didn't like and respect her.
I had been married 3 months when she died, in December 1962. My husband helped to carry her coffin when she was buried at the Catholic cemetery in Altham, alongside her parents. Her name was added to the headstone but I believe all the stones have been removed and the church demolished. It doesn't matter, really. Auntie Elsie lives on in our hearts, my eldest brother swears he often has "conversations" with her - he doesn't say if she answers him. She was a remarkable lady, without a doubt.