Born in Battersea in 1922, she lived a few doors down the road from her cousin and very best friend, Audrey Ferris. She enjoyed her early life there but moved to Carshalton in 1934 and they lost contact.

She left school at 14 and initially worked locally for matchmakers Fell and Bryant, later moving to Mallard's as a Coil Winder for 3/- a week extra. Needless to say, this factory was an important target for the Luftwaffe, and she didn't much like fireworks, so was persuaded to become a Spot Welder at Changewares, a wire-working company, where after the war she met a handsome chappie called "Tom", though his family knew him as George!

He spotted her at a bus stop and subsequently they tied the knot in 1948. Kids soon arrived; John in 1949 and Jen in 1952. She enjoyed watching them grow up and go to school in Plumstead, SE London and hated to punish them for their very rare transgressions. If tested too far, she would invoke the stiffest of sentences by proclaiming: "You wait until your Father gets home." Poor Dad, the last thing he wanted to do after a hard day's work was to chastise the kids, so most of the time he didn't.

Although not a pet lover herself, she never minded too much when Jen brought something home, usually from school & ostensibly just to look after for the school holidays, but most stayed permanently. The list included a tortoise, a dog, a hamster and Joey the Budgie. Joey survived until he was 18, presumably because he was "allowed" to fly around the lounge (John still hates to see birds in a cage) and even enjoyed the odd tipple of brandy.

All too soon the young kids were big kids and later to be son-in-law, Mike, appeared on the scene. In the summer of 1972 he bought a Triumph Herald convertible and proudly drove it over to show Jen, who was out. Still, her Mum was there and so he offered to take her out for a spin instead. She really enjoyed that ride, with the hood down, and later told Jen what excitement she had missed. Indeed, she was always up for a drive around the countryside in anyone's car, be it an expensive model or a clapped out mini. She would always say: "Well, it's better than taking the bus, dear."

She never liked to be far from civilisation, but John's expatriate decade gave Mum
the incentive to fly to the USA and be escorted around New York, Niagara, California and the Wild West, together with John’s American acquisition, Bernadine.

She loved baking. Mary Berry cannot compete with the best baker of Air Tarts on the planet. Whether they be jam, mince or lemon curd, they all turned out pretty much the same - a nice big tart with lots of air inside, probably a result of making do in the war, or possibly a simple desire to keep the oven clean! They were really sumptuous just the same. Later, when she was living with Jen & Mike she enjoyed keeping everyone supplied with cakes. When they went hiking she would always provide a cake for them to enjoy en route. Once, on reaching the top of Snowdon, a few Gurka infantry troops came and sat nearby. Inevitably they were offered some ginger cake and were most impressed, insisting their appreciation was passed to Mum. Something she was especially pleased to hear as Dad said he owed so much to the brave Gurkas he fought alongside in Burma.

Perhaps her love of baking went back to the 60's when we lived on top of a Baker's on the borders of Blackheath & Greenwich. Her catering talents were honed on unsuspecting kids at a local private school, where she worked alongside her friend, Jesse, mother of 50's pop idol, Marty Wilde.

She didn't much like modern Pop Music, perhaps because when we lived in Plumstead, our doctor (whom we visited regularly!), was the father of wailing superstar Kate Bush. She did like Max Bygraves, however, and even received a kiss from him after a live performance in Hastings around the millenium.

She enjoyed the odd tipple, despite always professing otherwise. She could always be persuaded if it was "just a small one". One weekend in the 90's, when she and Joanne found themselves at home alone, they decided it would be nice to pop out for Sunday lunch. They had remembered that the clocks had changed the previous night and made the necessary adjustments before heading off. They arrived at the pub shortly after what they thought was midday with a hearty appetite, ordering two large glasses of wine as a treat before perusing the lunch menu. It was only when they went to order a tasty roast that disaster befell them: "I'm afraid you've missed lunch, its 2.30" the waiter said. Jo will always treasure their accidental liquid lunch date and now knows that clocks spring forward and fall back, as the yanks say.

Her favourite animals were Elephants, and in her final hours there was always one
favourite snuggled up with her in bed. At the opposite end of her esteem were those furry little things with long tails. Whilst Paul would always be adding to her collection of Dumbo’s, Joanne could not let any birthday or Christmas pass without concealing in a present, a toy mouse (with a particularly long tail), simply to see her Nan recoil in mock horror.

Becoming a Nan for the first time when Paul appeared in 1975 filled her with great pride, and was later indebted to him for his frequent and consoling visits in the years after dad died. On Christmas Day morn in 1977 Joanne showed up, whilst Nan was detailed to spoil Paul as he opened more normal presents. She never expected to live to become a Great Nan but her talents were once again called into action to babysit Seren and Gethin, who brought her so much happiness. Even though her health had deteriorated, she was still able to give Jessica and Ryan a cuddle or two after they appeared on the scene last year. Her smiling face said it all.

Her life revolved around kids of every generation, young and old. She was a wonderful Mum, Nan, Great Nan and a genuinely gentle and kind person, who will be greatly missed by her loving family and all who knew her.