Our mother was unusual for her time. She worked full and then part time for all our childhood, juggling an assortment of childcare over the years. To us, all daughters, it seemed quite normal for women to work. Many of her female friends, some single, some also married with children, worked and it never occurred to us that there could be a different model. I can remember a discussion in my early teens about female discrimination and harassment suffered by some women which quite shocked me. It had never been part of our conversations or language before. A large part of this was down to The Economist, a very forward looking journal, whose 1930’s editor, Geoffrey Crowther, had deliberately employed several women just before the 2nd World War, who stayed on to the post war era and created an environment in which women and men were equally respected.

 

Women were also an everyday part of our father’s life, although I don’t remember many female doctors at his hospital. His sister, however, was an early woman doctor and careers for women were encouraged. Our father also enjoyed tackling many “household” skills. I especially remember the several cake decorating contests he won at our school fete, the all comers competitions as well as the ones for fathers, to the dismay of many mothers. His photographic talent, although driving us mad on holidays while he spent time choosing the exact framing of the shot, was also something that made us proud. His enormous enthusiasm for life, whether for music, art, cooking, flower arranging, theatre, visiting houses and gardens or building castles and moats in the sand on holiday, rubbed off on to everyone he met and certainly on to us. And his kindness to everyone from waiters and shopkeepers to friends was something we all admired.

 

Our mother always read endlessly: newspapers, journals, politics, the classics, history. Many of her interests were literary. She would dash to the dictionaries if a query cropped up, to find obscure meanings of words, origins of proverbs, and accuracy of quotations. She was proud of her northern upbringing in Appleby and returned there, and to the nearby Lake District, for holidays throughout her life. As children we were encouraged to climb the fells, scramble up rocks, and teeter on the edge of cliffs. She taught us how to climb trees and row boats. She introduced us to the theatre, ballet, and concerts, and later carried on the same tradition with her grandchildren. In retirement she kept her independence of spirit to the end, enjoying gardening, new experiences, and current affairs and continuing to make her views known in her typically forthright manner.

 

Our parents were very welcoming and generous with their time and hospitality. Colleagues from The Economist or junior doctors from our father’s hospital seemed to be invited to dinner at only an hour or two’s notice. They enjoyed meeting our friends as we were growing up, and would spend time getting to know them. As teenagers, if we came home from the pub or youth club unexpectedly bringing friends with us, they would be welcomed by our father, offered a drink, and engaged in conversation. People who needed somewhere to stay in London, often the children of their friends or relatives, were accommodated at the top of the house, sometimes for weeks or months.  Nearly all their grandchildren spent time living at the top of the house in Dartmouth Row while they were studying or getting started in their careers - an arrangement which seemed to suit our mother, who was by then on her own, very well.  Once we had left home our parents managed to achieve that difficult balance of always being delighted to see us when we turned up to visit, while never seeming at all reproachful if it hadn’t been for quite a while. A happy childhood  we remember with pleasure.