Joyce Parsons nee Fry 18/7/1930 – 13/8/2020
Mum (Joyce) was born on 18th July 1930, the eldest of 3 children. Together with sister, Sheila and brother, Brian they grew up with parents, Millicent and Algy Fry, in Shelley Road, Horsham. As a child, Mum attended Victory Road School until it was burnt down in 1940 after which she was educated in the Methodist Church hall in London Road. I remember her telling me she particularly loved geography and needlework. Growing up during the war years meant life was pretty austere added to which, my grandad was in the RAF so was away for months at a time. Mum once recalled how she hated going to the post office with my grandmother every week to scan the list of service men killed in action and the huge sense of relief each time when my grandad’s name was not on the list. Other wartime memories included the horror of nights crammed into the Morrison shelter with her family and their huge Samoyed dog which always smelt terrible. Grandad had initially built an Anderson shelter in the garden but it was permanently flooded so was never used. 
Nelly and Reg Browning were family friends and neighbours who Mum adored. They had no children of their own but took Mum under their wing and added a layer of love and fun to her life which she valued so much. Mum also loved the Girl Guides and I think this is where she discovered a life-long love of the great outdoors.
On leaving school, Mum embarked on an apprenticeship as a hair-dresser. It wasn’t a career which she loved but she did enjoy having more independence. She recounted once how she decided to practice her new-found skills on her sister. The only trouble was, she couldn’t get the cut straight so Sheila’s hair ended up much shorter than intended! She also told how she dreaded finding nits in customers hair because of the embarrassment and humiliation this caused. 
Surrounded by a new-found group of friends, Mum began to spread her wings. She loved going to dances in local village halls including Broadbridge Heath, Warnham and Slinfold. It was at one of these dances where she met the love of her life, my dad, Geoff. From stories Mum told, it seems they had so much fun together including walking miles home along unlit country lanes in the early hours of many Sunday mornings. As their relationship blossomed, Dad took Mum home to meet his family at Millfields Farm, Rowhook. Mum remembered dreading the food she was given there including beef with thick yellow fat around it and cabbage boiled for hours before it was served. This aside though, Mum loved her times at the farm with Dad and his family. She loved the countryside and the freedom she felt in a less strict environment.
In August 1952, Joyce and Geoff were married at St Mary’s Church Horsham and then went to live in Ockley Cottage in Rowhook. Life was tough! There was no electricity, no running water – just a well in the garden and an elsan toilet at the end of the garden path. Life by candle light and ironing with a flat iron was difficult to adjust to for a townie. Life was also lonely because mum couldn’t drive. She soon became pregnant and Michael was born one year later. It was around this time that King George 6th died and according to Mum, hours and hours of dreary music was played on the wireless. I’m guessing Mum was actually suffering from post-natal depression at this time but, in true Mum fashion, she just got on with life. She walked miles pushing Michael in his pram until he was old enough to toddle around. Then she was just terrified that he would fall down the well in the garden so rarely took her eyes off him. 
Eventually, Mum and Dad decided to move back into Horsham. I cannot imagine how they ever afforded to buy their own house for the princely sum of £800. Not long after moving, I arrived – born in Horsham hospital and then, twenty-one months later, Julie was born at home. Life was busy but close family lived nearby and everyone helped everyone else out. Mum took up hairdressing from home to earn a bit of extra cash and Dad worked hours doing anything and everything he could to make ends meet. In 1962, Mum gave birth to Tracey.  I was 7 and very excited so, when Tracey was just a few days old, I took a friend home from school to meet her. Imagine my shock when I discovered an empty crib and no Mum. Tracey had been taken back into hospital suffering from a major heart defect. Sadly, she died at just eight days old. Understandably, we were all devastated, Mum especially. A few weeks later it was suggested that Mum take up short term fostering of new-born babies to help her get over her loss. She gave it a try and we had one or two babies come to stay in our house for brief periods. However, when they were taken back, Mum had to go through the grieving all over again. Eventually, her and Dad decided to have another baby. They told nobody for months that Mum was pregnant and certainly us three children had no idea. Then, one day in August 1965, Dad came into the bedroom where we were staying at Millfields farm and told us we had a baby brother. We just could not believe it and even thought Martin had been adopted to begin with. I remember when Mum came out of hospital with Martin in his carry-cot, I could not believe how slim she looked. I obviously hadn’t noticed her gradually getting ‘fatter’. We all adored Martin and were often left to look after him as mum returned to work. She began waitressing at the Black Horse Hotel in the evenings and at weekends. Later she went on to work at The Surrey Hills Hotel.
 With very little money, satisfying the appetites of 4 hungry children was a challenge but luckily, Mum was an excellent cook and filled us up with foods like suet pudding with golden syrup and jam roly-poly. We were never allowed to leave food and were expected to eat everything which was put in front of us. I remember that she told us one morning as we left for school that lunch would be stuffed lambs hearts. I dreaded going home for lunch that day. Sure enough, stuffed lambs hearts were dished up but for once I believe we were let off from eating them – something that rarely happened! Roast pheasant was a midweek meal in our house growing up because it was a free perk of Dad’s job; delicious unless you got the bit with shot in it which tasted very bitter.
Mum was also amazing at sewing and knitting. When we were children, she would often go to jumble sales where she would buy someone else’s discarded clothes and turn them into much admired matching dresses for Julie and I. She made amazing fancy dress costumes for us to wear to the Mums Club Christmas parties and knitted fabulous jumpers with fair isle patterns on sometimes made out of someone else’s unravelled sweater.
Family holidays were great fun especially when we started camping. How we had such holidays with so little money, I will never know. Dad never had a bank account so he used to lay out all his cash from extra work he’d done, on the bed before we left and a plan was made on how it could be eked out. Mum used her sewing skills to ‘build’ an extension to a simple frame tent they had bought. Literally everything but the kitchen sink was packed into the car and, once the house had been spring cleaned from top to bottom and elastic had been treaded into the new shorts she’d made for us to wear, off we would go, Dad driving through the night to Cornwall. The tent would be set up like a home from home and it seemed like the sun always shone. Happy Days!
Once we were teenagers, our boyfriends and girlfriends were all welcome at home. Delicious Sunday lunches were served to gradually more and more of us. Mum’s pastry, especially in her mince pies, was divine and her quiches were legendary. Boxing Day lunch each year was an extension of our normal Sunday lunch and was a major achievement from such a tiny kitchen. Twenty plus people would squeeze into the house and enjoy a full-on beef roast with all the trimmings and so many vegetables!  To begin with everything was cooked on a wood-fired Rayburn which was very temperamental but later she upgraded to an electric cooker. She never had a dish washer though.
Back in the 8os, having gained experience from working at the Surrey Hills Hotel, Mum decided to turn her hand to catering for weddings and other functions supported by a group of friends and family. She even did the catering for all of our weddings. ‘Family Caterers’ was born. Often, we would cater for 100 plus people for weddings and then even more for evening parties. The shopping lists were enormous and took most of a Thursday morning to complete. Then on Thursday afternoons and all-day on Fridays we would make cheesecakes, Black Forest Gateaux, coleslaw, rice salad and of course quiche. By Saturday evening, we would stagger home exhausted! Mum was excellent at taking charge. She would nag us so much if we started to mess around or not do things properly and she seemed to have boundless energy even though by now she was in her late fifties. 
Starting in 1979 with Robert, Mum went on to have 9 grandchildren and loved being ‘nanny’. Her knitting and sewing skills were once again in great demand – the picture jumpers she knitted for all the children were much admired. Her and Dad regularly had the children over for sleepovers, took them out for days and even took them away on holidays. 
Sadly, when Mum was just 60, dad died. A tough life just became tougher! With little money except her widow’s pension, Mum had to continue working. She became a carer, working for Sussex Health Care where she especially enjoyed working with disabled adults. She moved on to become the cook for Redford House and continued working until she was 75. This was in the days before internet shopping so she had to sometimes push two trolleys round Tescos and work out how to feed nutritious food to more and more people for less and less money. Mum never drove so her days always started with a walk to catch the bus to work and then another walk back home afterwards. 
However, walking was something Mum loved. Her dogs always gave her a reason to get out and she never let them down insisting that they needed two good, long walks a day. After Dad died, Ben her Jack Russel terrier, was a much-loved companion. Kate, Mum’s lodger, came to live with her in 2002 and it was Kate who persuaded and helped Mum to buy Reggie after Ben died. Mum adored Reggie and he definitely helped to keep her fit. Kate, Mum and Reggie often went out for days and even on holidays together. Kate quickly learned that Mum was like no other landlady. She would not tolerate mess, laziness or any kind of illness. Kate was treated to the same expectations of ‘stiff upper lip and get on with it’ as we had been growing up. But, of course, this was all dished out with love and good humour and I think Kate loved Mum for encouraging her to have such a positive outlook on life. 
Travelling was something Mum loved to do. Her and Dad went to Greece and France on holidays and they loved the West country and the Lake District. After Dad died, Mum enjoyed special holidays to Canada and South Africa with her friend Olive. She also went away with Aunty Betty and Uncle John for a while and enjoyed caravanning with Sheila and John. She even celebrated her 80th birthday on a big camping weekend with all the family.
Gardening was another of Mum’s big passions. Her garden was a picture! It was of course immaculate and full of colour but she always saw the jobs which needed doing rather than being able to relax in it. Meals out with friends was something else she very much enjoyed always immaculately turned out – fabulous clothes, hair and make up were really important to her. She never let her standards slip.
Once a year, usually in October, Mum, Sheila, Julie, Carole and I would go away on a girls-only week. I think this was where Mum developed her love of gin and tonic. Even into their 8os, Mum and Sheila would get up at the crack of dawn to prepare a delicious packed lunch and supper for us all. Then we would set out on a walk often over quite challenging terrain before returning via the shops for a browse. Back at our lodgings, we would crack open the gin and really start to chill. Not for long though. Once supper was served and cleared away, we would embark on some handicraft or another usually linked to Christmas and always guided by Mum. We knitted, sewed, embroidered, stuck and, all the while, continued to drink gin and tonic. We drunk much gin, laughed a lot and always appreciated our precious times on those weeks away!
Christmases were so important to Mum. She spent hours (and a small fortune) preparing. Everyone had to have at least 2 presents and an equal amount had to be spent on each and every person. Each present was wrapped to perfection with ribbons, bows and matching tags. Mum’s gifts were a sight to behold. She also made all her own Christmas cards – an endeavour that would begin somewhere around June – her cards were fabulous! Her house was always beautifully decorated at Christmas too. She loved nothing better than when the house and food were ready and the whole family was together.
However, the family gradually got bigger and bigger with the eventual arrival of 14 great-grandchildren. Every new-born child received beautiful, hand knitted clothes. She crocheted blankets and shawls too. She loved every child equally. They all received Christmas and birthday presents and all enjoyed spending time with her and she with them.
If there was ever a person who got value for money from the NHS it was Mum. In her 50s she was struck down with polymyalgia and became very disabled until she was diagnosed and put on a strong course of steroids. She quickly became reenergised. In her 70s, Mum broke her ankle in several places when she was knocked over by a dog. We, her children, all thought that might slow her down but how wrong we were. With a metal plate and a brief period of rehab she was up and running again. Then she tripped and shattered her knee but again it did not take her long to recover. One day in her late 70s she told me she had been feeling unwell and dizzy. It turned out she had dangerous internal bleeding from a tumour growing in her stomach. Six days after a massive blood transfusion and an operation to remove the growth together with one third of her stomach, she attended her granddaughter, Briony’s wedding looking fabulous as always. 
It seemed that nothing would slow Mum down until arthritis really took hold. She felt it in her hip first but also had it badly in both shoulders and her knees. Whilst undergoing the pre-med for Mum’s hip replacement surgery, it was discovered that she had a congenital heart problem which required open-heart surgery to replace a faulty valve.  Because it took so long for this to be operated on, Mum’s hip worsened and she ended up in agony in a wheelchair for two years. She hated the wheel chair to begin with but knew it was the only way she could get around. While waiting for her hip operation, she contracted shingles which made her feel even more poorly. Eventually, with a replaced hip and two new shoulders, she was like a bionic woman for a while. 
Sadly though, it didn’t last. She had noticed for a while that her heart was beating irregularly but (typical Mum) didn’t want to make a fuss. Eventually, after nearly passing out, she underwent an operation to insert a pacemaker. Unfortunately, it was too late. A blood clot had developed and, on 8th April 2018, Mum had a massive stroke. She was completely paralysed on her left side. To begin with it didn’t look like she would make it but this is Mum we’re talking about. She pulled through and made a partial recovery but was sadly never able to return home to live independently. She was heartbroken. It would never have been Mum’s choice or ours for her to go into a home but sadly all choices had been removed. After a rocky start at Westlake, we moved Mum to Broadbridge Park and we are so glad we did. 
Mum’s extended family did all they could to add colour and value to her now limited life. We visited often, sometimes sharing a gin and tonic or a take-away meal. We took her out shopping and to restaurants in the newly acquired WAV and even took her away on two holidays. Fortunately, Julie and Lisa are both nurses so she was in the hands of a very capable team. Mum now lived for her visits and trips out. She tried knitting, crocheting and card making but it was such a struggle with only one working hand. Reading was also impossible because she couldn’t hold a book or scan properly across the page. Her sense of taste was confused so she stopped enjoying food in the same way. Thank goodness for the outstanding care she received at Broadbridge Park. I don’t think Mum every fully appreciated how well she was loved and cared for by the staff there but we, her family, could see how good her care was. We will never be able to thank the staff enough for being there for Mum when we couldn’t be. 
Lockdown was the worst thing which could have happened to Mum. On top of everything else, she was shut away from her family and she never really understood why. We were able to see her briefly on her 90th birthday and promised her a full and proper celebration as soon as we were able but that wasn’t to be. On Thursday 13th August, after we had all had a chance to say goodbye, she gave up the fight and drifted away peacefully.
What an incredible person Mum was! Strong and resilient in a quiet way, generous and loving in her own practical way and so creative. She taught us well and will definitely be a hard act to follow.