In celebration of the life of Janet Ann Dickinson Born on Nov 10th 1947 in Tolworth, Surrey. Daughter, Sister of 3, Wife, Mother of 3, Grandmother of 3, Aunt of 8 and Friend of many… Firstly, thank you to everyone that made it here. It’s so wonderful to see all your faces at this difficult time. I can’t tell you how much it means to us. Honestly, I am quite used to standing up and making presentations or speeches, to be honest, on occasion, I have been told I can talk a wee bit! What I normally try to do it to be as succinct as possible and attempt to distill the essence of my thoughts. But this time I realized… This is absolutely NOT the time to be brief. Not the time to edit and NOT the time to distill a single thing… The way I feel right now, I could literally talk forever, to everyone and anyone who will listen, about every little thing, every nuance and quirk, and every wonderful memory I have… and try to tell the world who she was… Why…? Because sheis worth it. Because her life is worth it. Because everyone simply MUST understand that MY MUMMY DIED and the world is less bright today without her in it. Just like the famous poem says: Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone Silence the pianos and with muffled drum Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come Let airplanes circle moaning overhead Scribbling on the sky the message "SHE IS DEAD" Put bows around the necks of the public doves Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves... - But this I will not do - After deep contemplation I have chosen to share with you a snippet from the wonderful journey of her life, as I knew it – as her Daughter, as her friend and as her biggest fan… Dad shared with us again today, that when he first saw her, across a dancehall in Chessington in 1967, his first thoughts were: "Wow! Who is that beautiful girl walking across the floor?" He fell in love with her instantly. And I can believe it. From this moment on, their romance blossomed at every opportunity. It seems mum felt exactly the same. For it was her that asked Dad out on their third date by going round his house, knocking on the door, navigating his mother and inviting him to go dancing. “That was just what she was like”Dad said.“When she decided on something, she always did it!” They married in 1969, and embarked on a wonderful adventure together -which began with Dad trading his beloved Lambretta in for a Mini Cooper, and subsequently their infamous Red MG Midget! It has to be said that they enjoyed a fantastic life in swinging London at a time that many say was the best period in its history. Huge fans of bands like the Beetles, The Stones, The Carpenters and Neil Diamond… they enjoyed the excitement and vibrancy of young marriage. It was at this time, when Mum was working as a top level PA, that she won the coveted company accolade of MISS RAWPLUG 1971! The other staff always joked that she had an unfair advantage as her boss WAS The Financial Director of the entire Group! But in truth… it was simply because she was a knock-out! Then a new chapter of their life together began. Mum fell pregnant – so upon strict doctor’s orders, a more appropriate VW Beetle was bought to replace the MG midget, and a move to the more sedate and leafy Sandhurst followed. It was here that they set out to create their dream home and raise their family. Now that I’m on the scene I can start with MY earliest memory, which was when I was about 3 years old. It was Easter time and Mum was laying on her bed, beaming, witha basket of chocolate eggs balanced on her tummy -there was a little baby brother in inside… he was kicking and knocked it off. I was so very excited. We all were! Those younger years were very special to me. James and I were super close – I felt very protective of him. Mum was ALWAYS there for us, loving, attentive, caring, and Dad worked super hard to provide for us the life they had envisaged together. James and I are both eternally grateful for that. To both of you, thank you. I was saying only the other day that I happily remember it through rose tinted glasses but with an added wash of golden sun light… I’m a very visual person, as some of you may know! It was, for us all, one of the most wonderful stages in our lives together. From Warren Close to Scotland Hill, and lastly, to Long Mickle. All within a stone’s throwof one another… our memories are of a loving family, and of an amazingly attentive Mother. She was blooming everywhere in fact! – as a mum, as the crossing lady, as the dinner lady, as the school secretary – we couldn’t get rid of her if we’d wanted to – which of course we didn’t. We never wanted for a thing.The sound of laughter was never far. It was truly wonderful. St Michael’s was a picturesque little school… and my memories with Mum and James include leisurely walks to school through leafy green side streets and woodland pathways, and a happy school life (with the exception of the occasional adolescent woes ;) Some of my fondest memories were the long summers - knocking around in the forests, playing in the street with my brother, cousins and friends, and at home, larking around with the family and neighbors… especially in the garden. Oh the water fights we had! Mum was ALWAYS there for us without fail. She was a 100% mum 200% of the time. We were so so lucky. Especially when we over estimated our abilities in such things as: skateboarding, cycling, or any other superb activity we had decided upon... Band-Aids, ice packs and lots of cuddles where always on tap! Come Christmas Dad had been known to dress up as Santa, and Mum made the costumes. She made costumes for all the school occasions and birthdays actually. My favorite creations were the Pearly King outfit and the Period Frock she made for James and I at one St Michaels end-of-year fete. I can still remember how great James looked and me skipping with all the girls in the playground in it. She was a dab hand at all things creative. She was a very creative spirit indeed. ON A PERSONAL NOTE Mum also taught me how to be a lady… I used to stare and watch her for what seemed like hours. As she would get ready to go out with Dad, to a dinner party or such like… it was mesmorising! SHE WAS BEAUTIFUL SO SO BEAUTIFUL THERE IS NO DOUBTING THAT Her face was just perfect, and kind. To watch her getting ready was entrancing. Her lips shaped just so, her laughter lines perfectly placed, her exotic brown eyes and creamy olive skin… Oh, and her smell... The scent she wore was called “Beautiful”… just as she was, in every way. Perfect. Not forgetting the sparkle in her eyes and the wicked little laugh that never ever left her! And lastly…her HANDS… her beautiful, petit, elegant, warm, soft hands. I would make her hold my hand often as a child, till I had fallen asleep. It was so comforting and very intimate. Those tender moments were magical to me. She was my angel. I can still feel my hand in hers. And I always will. This, Father Time will NEVER steal from me. NEVER. Finally, I have to tell you about how Mum and Dad always supported us. I will always be grateful that they encouraged me so much to pursue whatever it was that I loved. And for me, it was my art. For James it was the same. He never lacked encouragement either. We were blessed. I am truly grateful that both of them passed on to me their passion, values and above all, the sentiment that I could achieve anything I wanted if I set my mind to it. It truly defines me. So I can say with pride, and on behalf of James too, that they did an excellent job bringing us up! …By all accounts we were sweet, polite little children - How things have changed! There are so many moments we will always treasure; far too many to sharewith you today so I will end by simply saying: Goodbye. We love you. Forever. xxx