Abakhan & Peggy's Extraordinary Recall

This Sunday we set off for the Deeside Estuary to find a place which has a huge reputation amongst anyone who knits, sews or does any sort of crafting. In a former life, I was very involved in the Operation Christmas Child shoebox appeal and many of the volunteers who made goods for the shoeboxes loved this place and visited from all over the UK.

The Abakhan fabrics, hobbies and craft centre is the attraction of many coach parties and visitors from all the over the UK. It was started by the Abakhan family over thirty years ago and I remember it in my teens as a place where dressmakers flocked to as it sells some of its fabric by weight not length.

As well as a successful 'hobbyist' retail outlet it is also a site of considerable local historic interest, the company has taken great care to preserve the buildings resulting in the presentation of an award by children’s play area was added. With tea at £1.40 a cup it was a pleasing destination for us despite it being some years since my elderly companions have picked up a knitting needle.

It has to be said that the site – not too far from Saint Winifred’s Well (the fascinating story of which is for another post another time) is in a rather unlovely part of the coast, but I can’t help but admire the area’s determination to succeed. There is the Greenfield Heritage site, a regular Sunday Market and lots more on offer, despite the broken down buildings and the ugly hulk which has had so many set-backs that is ‘Fun Ship’ at Mostyn.

The drive home towards Chester is enlivened by the beauty of the estuary and the way that it has so

The Dee Estuary viewed from the A55 homewards
towards Chester

many colours embedded in its environs. Our conversation drifts and Peggy tells us about the happening in the lives of people she know and who she met that week.

I do greatly admire Peggy’s constant ability to remember people and their family connections. The other day she was sitting on a bus next to a middle-aged chap and passed the time of day. Then she said to him, “Are you Edna’s son?” and he looked at her in surprise and said that he was. Edna was someone she had known long ago and had actually recognised him as this woman’s son from over 50 years ago.

Sadly, apart from being a good way to make a bus journey go quickly, Peggy's talents go largely unnoticed and underused. She would have made a fantastic networker in today’s world and how she would have loved and taken advantage of LinkedIn, Friends Re-united and Face Book. But mostly we tend to ignore this tremendous flair she has for remembering all the people she has met in her life.

My husband, who has a very poor memory for faces and people, is always at a loss when she asks him if he remembers Rosemary who was in Primary School with him. Or tells us that the driver of the bus which took his brother Dave down to meet his cruise at Southampton was the nephew of Alan who used to be in school with him…..

Peggy, who seemingly remembers the
name of every person she has ever
met

Perhaps some of these connections will always remain buried only to be revived by people like Peggy who have no real way of recording them. Perhaps you suspect, as I do, the internet and digital media will somehow lose and swallow up our blogs and precious photographs.

Last week however, I saw a really good idea which goes a small way to solve the problem of lost family memories. Family Legacy Cards* are a way of encouraging people to write down their memories, family stories and history. They are printed on long-lasting - printed on special paper with a minimum longevity of 200 years. The cards have different themes and thought provoking front covers, intended to rouse different memories. Christmas sorted!

My lasting thought is that it is sad that are not more people like Peggy in the world as we may pass people in the street to whom we might have an interesting connection or to whom we are related and never even know about. I resolve to talk to people a bit more and stop being so insular, you never know I might discover a connection.....

 

*Disclaimer Disclosure: I have not been given any free goods to recommend this product nor have I any connection to the company.

Erddig's Place in a Child's Memories

....and the band played on...
Erddig's Apple Festival Oct 2014

The large country house and its surrounding estate, Erddig Hall served as a backdrop for many of us growing up in the town. My generation knew it when it was in a state of sad decline in the 1960s. This once grand house was cracked and literally falling down around the ears of its last owner, Philip Yorke. My impression had always been that he had a sad end to his life – living his days in one tiny back room with a black & white TV surrounded by the remnants of the former glory days of the house.

However, this was not the case, as the facts (unknown to me at the time) have emerged as I research this piece. Philip, as the last surviving Yorke, had actually started negotiations with the National Trust to hand it over to them in the 70s and, restored, it opened to the public in 1977 just a year before Philip died – so he lived to see the wonderful transformation begin. Now it is one of the jewels in the National Trust’s crown, illustrating perfectly the relationship between the servants and the family down the ages. It has a fascinating array of pictures, antique furniture and soft furnishings and extensive well-maintained gardens and grounds.

But as a child who lived nearby in the 1970s for me, it always felt like a somewhat hellish place. Rumours of the eerie ‘cup & saucer’ being haunted by a child who once drowned (untrue I think) there cowed my childish imagination, not helped by the muted banging which could sometimes be heard nearby. The river sometimes ran blood red. Add to this memories of a bloody afternoon when my middle sister, (always the one to get into scrapes) gashed her foot on glass in the river when we had trespassed there for a picnic.

But forward to the 1990s when Mum, newly widowed, became a room steward at Erddig. She has been a stalwart volunteer there twice a week ever since. Thus, she has an encyclopaedic knowledge

A display of the various apples grown
on the Erddig Estate

of the place and is always ready to take us there when we are short on anything to do. Even better, she knows she is valued and needed and at 92 that is a rare thing.

Erddig is a splendid place to take any elderly person on a Sunday afternoon. The grounds are perfect for an afternoon stroll and there are rare fruit trees and formal 18th Century Gardens of great historical importance. But you don’t need to have a knowledge of garden history to enjoy them as the NT puts on special days such as Teddy Bears Picnics, Christmas Fairs, walks and markets.

The first weekend in October is reserved for the Apple Festival, so for once, the suggestion for our ‘Nice Under Glass’ trip came from Mum and so we made our way along the long country lanes to get to the house which is just 2.5 miles the town centre. The band played and the unseasonable sun shone as people sat in deck chairs and queued for tea. The smell of the apples belied the sunshine with the promise of the Autumn to come.

As I looked up at Erddig's great façade I reflected how my feelings for the place have changed. As a child its very name gave me nightmares, but now thanks to the stories of a happy and wonderful place that my Mum regales us with every week and the knowledge that it has given her a reason to live…. well, I have real reason to be grateful to it and I expect the many thousands of visitors would agree for reasons of their own.

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The Sad Story of Uncle Frank and Tea at The Plassey

Last day of summer  - Sunday 31st August 2014

The further our 92 year old Mum gets from her childhood, the more she seems to retreat back to its memories. Over our Sunday roast chicken this week, she brought up (in the random way that memory does) the sad story of Uncle Frank. She and my mum in law Peggy’s stories often go back to Wrexham in the early 1930s when their respective families knew each other.



Nana & Pop - hard working business people
who lived to make money
 

Mum was the youngest of 8 children of staunch, cold and teetotal Roman Catholic parents (pictured) whose only focus (apart from having too many children) was their fish, fruit & veg business. My only memories of them are the smell of Pop's tobacco mingled with the smell of fish and a complete lack of physical contact or regard from either of them for me as a small child.

Of her 2 brothers, Frank was Mum's favourite by far. He was very popular and well-liked by everyone he met. Despite an early aspiration to go into the priesthood, he ended up running the transport for his father's business. Frank was fit, strong and handsome and played for a local football team. Peggy too remembers Frank as someone special – the unspoken implication was always that Frank was the direct antithesis of his parents and he was that way despite, not because of, his parentage.

Although he attracted the attention of many local girls, Frank remained unmarried, until at 31 he at last met a girl and told my Mum that he planned to marry her. But then he cut himself shaving, contracted septicaemia and died in Wrexham War Memorial Hospital all within a few days. Legend has it that the streets of Wrexham were lined with mourners such was the shock of his sudden death and his huge popularity.

In the great scheme of things (especially during the war that followed a few years later) there are probably many more terrible stories to tell, but every tragedy of loss is no less terrible simply because others exist. All deaths (ones like this so very common in those days before anti-biotics) still mar and strike at the heart of a family life and remain there forever with repercussions throughout the following years impacting the following generations.

On Sunday, with this sad tale still ringing in our ears, we set off along the country roads on the North East side of town, turning right to the Crewe-by-Farndon road through Worthenbury and turning right towards Bangor On Dee.  Despite this, on a sunny day such as this with the green lanes surrendering their late summer wares of butterflies, birds with bounding flight and brightly coloured petals, the ride was pleasant and enjoyable with roads free from traffic. I idly wondered whether Uncle Frank ever took his lorry along these lanes on his day off with his new love and how little and how much has changed since then.

Our final destination today was The Plassey. Uncle Frank might have driven past it and seen its


Still smiling - outside the new children's
playground at The Plassey Leisure Complex

Edwardian glory, or perhaps it was one of the places on his deliveries list? A former farm set around a striking large red brick Edwardian house, it has successfully made the transition to another business entirely - a 5 star leisure complex complete with pool, shopping arcade and much more. As well as an a la carte restaurant (imaginatively converted from the old shippon) there is a small snack bar where we had our refreshing cups of tea.

A small silence ensued and I reflected that although Frank’s sudden demise was sad, at least he did not end up old and frail with few friends and only memories of loved siblings for comfort - he will be forever young. I resolve once again to treat Mum’s memories with respect as she relates her past. It’s the least we can do for the older generation. 

Llandegla Gardens in the Van

New Transport - approved!

We now have some new transport for our Nice Under Glass jaunts. Admittedly, when we saw the shiny white Toyota Hiace nestling in the foothills of Snowdonia our elderly companions were the last people on our minds. P and I had spend a brilliantly adventurous 10 days in a motorhome on our own driving from Sydney to Melbourne at the beginning of June and were now rather hooked. The new van we had found seemed perfect, but a bonus was that after the positioning of a small plastic step and a bit of persuasion (I am sure their curiosity to see inside helped) - Peggy and Mum were safely strapped in.

Perhaps its the addition of curtains, fridge and cupboards but they look right at home nestled in the back of the van. We could even boil up the kettle if we wanted and have our tea in a layby, but I had other plans today.

I am sure that everyone must have heard of the National Garden Scheme, but just in case you haven't,


the idea is that keen amateur gardeners open up their gardens and people to pay to go and look around - all for charity of course. Over 23M has been raised in the last 10 years - although it has been in existence since 1927. The idea of pottering around someone else's garden is quite appealing. Also, a sneaky part of you wonders if the day will ever come when your own horticultural abilities will produce a garden worthy of visitors... in our case I doubt it. However, I quietly tuck away the NGS in that little file in my mind marked 'Where to go on Sunday afternoons'... the possibilities are endless.

On Sunday 27th July the scheme was operating in the grounds of several houses in the village of Llandegla - including, I delighted to discover, some pensioners bungalows.

Despite being some 10 miles away, the village is well known locally as it has a huge forest with Mountain Bike trails - (there are also walks but a good friend and I got terribly lost there once and it put me off.) Llandegla is en-route to Bala and Llangollen (should you wish to go the pretty way), but us Wrexhamites rarely stop in the village which is some way off down a side road, so discovering an unspoilt picture perfect collection of houses adorned with flowers and obscure scarecrows was unexpected.

After parking the van, we paid £5 each (aggh! Peggy had whipped out her purse before we could stop her..). The gardens were pleasant and not too overwhelmingly tidy and unattainable. We were also pleased with the weather as it had been so hot in the week we remarked (several times) how pleasant it was to have a cool breeze... but still be in the sun. We also tried casually dropping the name of some of the plants into our chat, but Mum confessed "I only know daisies and buttercups" and Peggy admitted that her knowledge was limited to hydrangeas...

But we could notch this up as a positive experience: Mum had her stick which she could show to anyone who gave her a passing glance, Peggy saw someone she knew (her database of acquaintances is huge) and I had driven and parked the van without any problem. So we celebrated the success of the afternoon with the purchase of excellent cream scones to have with our with our (50p) tea in the Village Hall... now where's that plastic step?