Family History

My Gran was the Bee’s Knees

I started going through her wardrobe and borrowing a few of her dresses

Some family members can have a deep, lasting effect on a person's view of life and how to behave. Where my Gran was concerned, her influence was definitely a positive one. Her attitude to life was inspiring…

My Gran and Me

My Gran, Stella, was born in 1904. She was my Mum’s parent. Part of the family I was adopted into.

When my dad disappeared from my life I was about eight years old and my Gran began to spend a lot of time at my home with mum, me and my brother. However, I didn’t really appreciate her until I was older — Gran was not really child originated, so as I grew, our relationship grew alongside my age.

By the time I was twelve I was in awe of her spelling ability, obvious intelligence and her general refined demeanour. Not to mention, she took me to see terrific movies like “The Great Gatsby.”

A few years later, Stella had a hip replacement. It appeared to me that she practically jumped out of bed as soon as the doctors gave her the go ahead. Of course, it was a slower process, but she really did recover quickly. I was in no doubt her strong personality and will power helped. The new hip gave her a new lease of life. It was a joy to see

By the time I was eighteen, I admired how she could knock back a nip of whisky without even blinking. Not to mention enjoy a little flutter occasionally on the ponies.

And she always wore stockings!

When I was a teenager, I started going through her wardrobe and borrowing a few of her dresses. My friends thought they were great, asking where they could buy the same one, and could not believe it when I told them they were my Grandmother’s clothes.

Yes, my gran had character in bucket loads. She was petite with a wicked sense of humour and a tongue as sharp as a razor.

Over the years she told me loads about her past, but it was all a little muddled. During the last few months of her life, when she was bedridden, I would visit and we would chat for hours. I got her to repeat bits I was unclear about until I had a complete story in my head, which is also backed up by documents.

The Bee’s Knees

Whenever I talk about my Gran, I always tell people she was the Bee’s Knees. She enjoyed living it up in the 1920s.

In the Roaring Twenties in America, bright young things invented nonsense language to refer to things that were ‘the tops’ — like ‘the cat’s pajamas’, ‘the snake’s hips’ and so on. They utilized the existing ‘bee’s knees’ phrase to add to that list. The Prase finder.

She was born into what would have been considered a middle-class family. Her mum was a dressmaker and her dad a journalist. Being Catholics, it was a large family. Six girls and one boy survived — although there were actually nine births.

They lived in Stretham, London in a reasonably large house. The girls shared bedrooms, but they certainly were not short of space, and they had a garden. All the daughters were lucky to be sent to a good convent boarding school until they were fourteen. And Stella’s brother went else where.

In peace time, the girls would have been considered extremely fortunate to be educated to such a high standard. The fact there was a war raging made it even more of an achievement.

After the Great War, Stella attended collage, became a shorthand typist and eventually moved on to hold down a high standing PA position working for an executive of a well-known charity.

The roaring twenties had arrived with all the joys of less restricting clothes for the women and a general prosperity as the country was recovering well after the war.

Women felt more confident and empowered, and this new independence was reflected in the new fashions. Hair was shorter, dresses were shorter, and women started to smoke, drink and drive motorcars. The attractive, reckless, independent ‘flapper’ appeared on the scene, shocking society with her wild behaviour. Historic UK.

Stella loved fashion and dressed extravagantly when heading out on the town to the jazz clubs in London. That is where she met her future husband.

Anthony was the son of a South American consul who worked in the government. He lived with his dad and brother in one of the very posh squares in London and although he was a librarian he also had quite a large allowance and inheritance.

His mother had died young and tragically. She had been a model and was sketched by many in Paris. For a while one of the paintings hung in The Louvre art gallery.

When Anthony was a small boy tragically his mother’s hair caught fire and caused her death.

This is such an outlandish tale. But true!

While Stella was living it up, her sisters were busy getting married, having found some affluent matches.

But even though Anthony was a bit of a rascal, Stella adored him. They continued to Charleston their way around all the nightclubs in London spending and enjoying his money. Then one day they woke up, and it was all gone.

Stella became pregnant, so the couple finally married and rented a two-bedroom flat in a south-east London suburb.

Although their daughter (my Mum) was much loved by both parents, Stella’s greatest love was Anthony and there was not a thing she wouldn’t do for him. Her demeanour was submissive. When he returned from work, she would kneel before him to undo his laces and often wash and massage his feet.

When World War 2 broke out, Anthony sent Stella and my Mum to live in Devon with a relative while he went off to fight for his country.

Once over, they reunited. But there were more hard times to follow.

Stella’s admiration for her husband shone through as she literally became his nurse when he developed a life-threatening cancer.

In those days, radiotherapy was relatively new and the amount needed had not yet been nailed down. Anthony received treatment which basically zapped some of his vital organs. He was a very poorly man until his death in the early 70s. Stella nursed him daily and was absolutely distraught when he died. Indeed, it took many years for her to get over losing him.

Never Give Up

I hope you found this tale interesting. It has always fascinated me. Imagine living through two wars and nursing your sick husband when peace had finally taken hold. It must have felt like another fight to her.

My mum was their only daughter. When Anthony died, Stella, my Gran, became closer to the rest of the family and helped Mum with me and my brother.

One last thing about my Gran — she had a marvellous appetite. On an occasion when she was visiting her nephew for her 84th Birthday, his family took her out for a slap-up meal. They had just finished the second course when my Gran keeled over onto the restaurant floor.

It appeared she was hardly breathing.

The ambulance arrived just as she came round, got up and demanded her desert and a liqueur! Cheers Gran… What a woman!

She was an extremely inspiring individual who lived to be ninety.

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