Dorothy was special. I will remember her for her many wonderful anecdotes about her amazing experiences and for her obvious love of her family. Dorothy had a real love for and knowledge of Thomas Hardy and music and I loved discussing both with her. Her joyous approach to life was infectious, touching all those who knew her. She will be sadly missed but very happily remembered. XxX
I remember Dorothy from my earliest years. She was always a favourite auntie, and we saw quite a lot of her during the war when the Post Office Department of the Civil Service was evacuated from London to Harrogate, so she was able to get home to Darlington quite frequently.
In spite of her being such a favourite, I nearly killed her on one occasion. We were on the banks of the River Tees and I was throwing stones into the river. I was about 3 and my aim was not good. Whether the stone actually hit Dorothy or just missed her I’m not sure. I can however remember the scolding I got for being so careless.
I don’t suppose there are many who remember Dorothy and Bob’s wedding on 24th August 1948. I do because at the age of 9 I was chief bridesmaid. I don’t think Dorothy (or Auntie Dot, as she always was to me and my sister Helen) had much choice in the matter. For years I had been saying ‘When you get married I’ll be your bridesmaid’ (I was desperate to be someone’s bridesmaid). So Helen, (not quite 3) and I became her bridesmaids.
She once told me that love blossomed between her and Bob when she returned to teacher training college after the death of her mother in January 1948, when Bob had shown so much sympathy and understanding. Soon afterwards their engagement was announced.
A few months previous to this her mother, during her final illness had told Olive, her eldest daughter, ‘My mother’s wedding dress is in that drawer.’ So when the engagement was announced the dress was brought out, as clothes were still strictly rationed after the war. It was in no fit state to be worn. Made of embroidered muslin in 1870 it had yellowed with age and looked quite fragile. Desperate measures were needed, so it was washed and bleached and did not disintegrate. It was, however, only the outer layer of a dress. So Violet, my mum and Olive’s twin, made an underdress from her own wedding dress, and it all fitted perfectly.
The wedding was at Corporation Road Methodist Church, in Darlington.
All our bouquets were far too big. Dorothy was almost hidden behind hers, and Helen’s and mine were large sheaves of flowers, and we’d ordered posies. I remember having to put mine down during the part of the services when I had to take the bride’s bouquet.
The reception was in the church hall, and one of the most memorable things about it was the cake. It was iced with musical notes all round it which Bob recognised as one of his compositions. He was persuaded to sing it!
After the reception the wedding party had to visit ‘the aunts’. Why these three austere, elderly spinsters were not at the wedding I’m not sure. They were certainly not that old, the eldest being just 70. The advantage was that they had a beautiful garden for some more photographs.
There were photos of the happy couple, and one with both bridesmaids but Helen had a face like thunder. The final photo was just Dorothy, Bob and I. Helen, who I said was not yet 3, had had enough, threw a tantrum and refused to be photographed again!
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I remember Dorothy from my earliest years. She was always a favourite auntie, and we saw quite a lot of her during the war when the Post Office Department of the Civil Service was evacuated from London to Harrogate, so she was able to get home to Darlington quite frequently.
In spite of her being such a favourite, I nearly killed her on one occasion. We were on the banks of the River Tees and I was throwing stones into the river. I was about 3 and my aim was not good. Whether the stone actually hit Dorothy or just missed her I’m not sure. I can however remember the scolding I got for being so careless.
I don’t suppose there are many who remember Dorothy and Bob’s wedding on 24th August 1948. I do because at the age of 9 I was chief bridesmaid. I don’t think Dorothy (or Auntie Dot, as she always was to me and my sister Helen) had much choice in the matter. For years I had been saying ‘When you get married I’ll be your bridesmaid’ (I was desperate to be someone’s bridesmaid). So Helen, (not quite 3) and I became her bridesmaids.
She once told me that love blossomed between her and Bob when she returned to teacher training college after the death of her mother in January 1948, when Bob had shown so much sympathy and understanding. Soon afterwards their engagement was announced.
A few months previous to this her mother, during her final illness had told Olive, her eldest daughter, ‘My mother’s wedding dress is in that drawer.’ So when the engagement was announced the dress was brought out, as clothes were still strictly rationed after the war. It was in no fit state to be worn. Made of embroidered muslin in 1870 it had yellowed with age and looked quite fragile. Desperate measures were needed, so it was washed and bleached and did not disintegrate. It was, however, only the outer layer of a dress. So Violet, my mum and Olive’s twin, made an underdress from her own wedding dress, and it all fitted perfectly.
The wedding was at Corporation Road Methodist Church, in Darlington.
All our bouquets were far too big. Dorothy was almost hidden behind hers, and Helen’s and mine were large sheaves of flowers, and we’d ordered posies. I remember having to put mine down during the part of the services when I had to take the bride’s bouquet.
The reception was in the church hall, and one of the most memorable things about it was the cake. It was iced with musical notes all round it which Bob recognised as one of his compositions. He was persuaded to sing it!
After the reception the wedding party had to visit ‘the aunts’. Why these three austere, elderly spinsters were not at the wedding I’m not sure. They were certainly not that old, the eldest being just 70. The advantage was that they had a beautiful garden for some more photographs.
There were photos of the happy couple, and one with both bridesmaids but Helen had a face like thunder. The final photo was just Dorothy, Bob and I. Helen, who I said was not yet 3, had had enough, threw a tantrum and refused to be photographed again!