Tony Bird

As this year comes to a close, I wanted to post this blog about a special person rather than christmas, we will have many more christmas's but only memories of those who have gone. 

When I first saw a video recorder in Lisa Feddons' house in 1978, I was amazed; I was thinking how wonderful technology was becoming.

I felt exactly the same when I walked into the grand bedroom of Tony and Patsy Bird, overlooking Victoria Park London. There, in the corner  was a very grand Corby Trouser Press. This piece of home luxury was usually meant for the affluent, but  Tony was very successful. From humble beginnings at the Golden Lion Pub Abbey Arms with a car front next door, to providing luxury Winnebago RV's for film and television cast and crew on location. He was indeed a self made success. His great success never changed him though, he appreciated everything and treated everyone equally.

I met Tony 31 years ago at age 15. He was calm, level headed and he had a natural way of making us feel safe (that is his step daughters Kellie and Sally and all their friends). He was one of the kindest men I knew, as was his wonderful brother Peter whom he is now re-united with, at long last. I know he missed him every day.

Since Tony's very recent death, his mother has also died. I will never forget you Tony, and one of my fondest memories is of you dancing with much loved wife Patsy in your favourite pub near your previous home at Victoria Park; to the song, River of Dreams by Billy Joel.

Here's the link for the song which will always remind me of him.

 http://youtu.be/hSq4B_zHqPM

I know I can speak for the friends of his step daughters Kellie and Sally Woods when I say; we'll miss you Tony, and thank you for all your kindness when we were young and also throughout our lives, We'll never forget you. 

I dedicate this blog to the grand, but very grounded Tony Bird. 

See you at the next posting.

Funeography, The Final Frame???

©Priscilla Etienne

It seems that news of my health is beginning to leak, I thought I should get this blog posted and set the record straight.

I got an email from a woman called Anita who has read about my ill health somewhere. So.... to the bare facts.
I have had osteoarthritis of the neck, spine and lumbar spine for the past ten years. It's now showing itself in my knees which prevents me bending to a certain point. I can't kneel down on my knees at all now.  My thumbs get really painful and stiff, and I drop things a lot. I've never dropped a camera though.
I have Chronic Fatigue Syndrome which has slowly become worse over the past 5 years, I hit daily periods of extreme exhaustion and if I talk during these moments I sound drunk.  I also now have Fibromyalgia, so every day my body feels stiff, aches and gets painful.
Although journalism is a combined with Funeography, the dynamic shots I have taken over the years have become more difficult; as has climbing up walls and running to get in front of a funeral procession. It's taken quite some time to get used to the changes.

Am I just going to sit in my armchair and let this beat me? Definitely not. I will always do photography on a level that I can manage. My journalist blog stays and other aspects of Funeography, it's my baby and will remain mine. I guess that the fantastic physical life I have led; Youth Work Manager, Bodybuilder, Territorial Army (4th Battalion Royal Green Jackets, now known as The Rifles) has caught up with me. I don't have it within my nature to stop completely, so I'll settle for a more relaxed pace.
I have now cut right back on regular funerals, and I am undergoing some final tests to determine the extent of whats going on. I am also caring for my son, who now has not just one life-changing disease but two. Ulcerative Pancolitis and Liver Disease, he's doing ok right now but there are lots of medication, hospital checks etc.

      I am very pleased and proud that I have been able to provide so many families with treasured memories, and be able to help them along the very long, never- ending road of bereavement. I want to thank all of those families for letting me into your homes, and sharing the most difficult, early part of your grief. I need to thank some of the wonderful people I have met within the funeral industry who gave me hope when I needed it. In particular Colin (Corky) Liddell and Stuart Poulton. You both know what you did. And Colin.. My promise to you still stands.

I've always jumped on the back of life, wrestled with it and did as much as I can to make it challenge me, making sure I am never forgotten,  and as I close this post I am thinking of an exceptional young man, who got as much out of life as he could and will most certainly not be forgotten........ I dedicate this blog to Brennan Small-Doyle.

See you at the next posting.

Goodbye Mr Cain

Many of us are clearly saddened by the departure of Martin Cain. Mr Cain to most my age, and what a man he was. While I've been writing Sara's (his daughters') Lifebook I've discovered what a remarkably strong and determine person he was. Nothing was unreachable and everything was possible. He was conditioned to succeed whatever the odds. His strong sense of survival was ultimately for his family; his wife, his children, and his grandchildren.

Mr Cain, there's no need to fight anymore, you've achieved what you set out to do. The one person whose absence you've found the most difficult to bare, has been waiting with open arms. 

You are now reunited with Smarty in eternal peace... Or perhaps with eternal music.

I dedicate this blog to Mr Martin Cain and Smarty Cain.

Wasted Time

What a year!! it's been full on action packed, emotional, annoying, funny, frustrating.. It's been life.
It's coming up to the end of the year, and right near the end I have had four losses of wonderful human life. Four people that really knew how to live. I know many of us think we know how to do this, but it's not easy. Three of my losses are people who were in their 70's and 80's. Teresa Costello was my neighbour. She welcomed me with open arms and doors when I moved into her street six years ago. The wonderful Mr Reid (father of Mark), he fought until he couldn't fight no more. Victoria Gunn who was always so active and full of energy, she even started driving in her 60's.

The most recent being Dionne Lynch. I spoke to her a few weeks ago about her party she was planning in January and the points we were up to in our lives. That chat was long overdue and the next time I was seeing her was after christmas but before her party. When the news came through on that Sunday night that she had died, my first reaction was anger. I haven't felt like that around death in a long time but I knew that she still wanted to do so much more. I knew she wanted to see her daughter do so much more. I'm laughing a little to myself as I write this because I can almost hear her saying; 'What do you mean go.. Go where? I'm not ready to go anywhere yet'.

The amount of times I hear people say 'That's it, I'm going to live my life differently, grab every moment because you never know'. It's not long before they slip back into their old ways. I have always been annoyed by that to be honest, It's not that hard to make conscious changes and stick with at least some of them. At this time of year we all make decisions to get the perfect present for our friends and family, look at how much it will be, concentrate on getting the money, then buying it.
When can we begin to do this with our parts of our lives?
That was one of the things I liked about Dionne. She wouldn't just say, she would do. She was like that right to the end.
I have pure admiration for the strength that Dionne had despite being unwell. I'll miss her very much.
My love and thoughts are with the entire Lynch family.

I dedicate this blog to Teresa Costello, Mr Reid, and Victoria Gunn.
       

Nine Nights For Mr Reid

©Priscilla Etienne

Last Saturday me and my son Kross went to the home of a very dear, old friend. He is also the godfather of my son. His father recently died and we went to the last night of the Nine Nights. This is a very important part of the bereavement process for Carribean culture. It's practiced in Jamaica, Guyana and Dominica, with roots in African tradition. Friends and family gather at the home of the deceased and share prayers, hymns, memories, condolences, then eat and drink together.

In the past, this would be a more quiet and reserved evening, but this has changed in keeping with modern times. The Nine Nights celebration is a time to be joyful that the deceased is no longer suffering. 

Tradition states that the spirit of the deceased moves around the party on the ninth and final night gathering food and saying goodbye before moving on to the resting place. 

             This tradition appears to be fading out though. So when there are plans for Nine Nights to take place, I do make an effort to go. I think it's equally important for our children (younger generation) to experience it.

When I do go I'm instantly transported back to my childhood. There is always rum consumed, and with absolutely no mixers. It's the only time I get to spend time with Carribean elders and it's a real need for me. 

Later on this morning family, friends and the local community will be saying goodbye to the wonderful, unforgetable, Mr Reid. He leaves behind his devoted wife and vibrant children. 

Everyones love and support are with them. 

I dedicate this blog to Mr Reid. God bless him and always keep him.   

The Hallsville School Incident

"Lookout!  Here comes death". These are the words of Cyril Dermaine, a firemen from West Ham. Robert Baltrop, a porter who did look out duty on 10th September 1940, watched and listened to the German planes reverberate  across the Thames; coming through Rainham, Barking and Dagenham.
That day was to be known as Black Saturday.

Hallsville School in Agate road Canning Town, was supposed to be a secure shelter for many locals until the buses could get there to evacuate them. There were up to 600 people crammed into the basement, most were women and children. Three days and nights passed with no sign of the buses. A series of official mistakes meant that the buses were sent to Camden Town instead of Canning Town.
The school was hit by a parachute bomb on the fourth day. The building was split in two and fell into the basement. It left a 20ft crater and barely any survivors.

70 years later, there are still so many unanswered questions. There were warnings that the school was at risk of bombing. The home secretary at the time was Sir James Anderson. He was told about the extent of the bombing the next day. The prime minister Winston Churchill, was told by Anderson at a cabinet meeting but he wasn't informed about the death toll. It was recorded as low as 77.
Churchill went to see the ruins of the school the next day. Many of the 600 caught up in the bombing were buried alive as the 20ft crater was filled in. Those who were fortunate enough to survive were then left in a tragic position of losing some if not all of their family members.

I was recently asked to be admin for a new facebook group; Hallsville School Cover-Up 10th September 1940 aka Black Saturday.
The purpose of the group is to campaign to get a larger memorial acknowledging the larger number of victims who perished, perhaps with written letters of apology to the survivors, admitting the mistakes during those fatal three days.
Some may say the term 'Cover-up' is harsh, I thought it myself at first. The more you read the different accounts of witnesses though, and learn about the huge family loss, it becomes clear that no one gave the victims or survivors a good enough chance to protect themselves. Many were encouraged to leave the safety of their homes, where some had good brick bomb shelters. Why?
Survivors were not compensated and many were not able to get closure by giving their family members a proper burial. Why?

I wanted to post this today as today is Remembrance Day which marked the end of the First World War. The Hallsville School Incident was Britain's worst civilian tragedy of the Second World War. Many feel it could have been prevented, but everyone in the group wants to keep the incident at the forefront of as many as minds as possible.

I dedicate this blog to all the families who lost their lives because of wanting to save their lives.
May you all get the justice and respect you deserve.

Lessons In Life

©Priscilla Etienne 

I went to work at the Royal Docks School when it first opened in 1999. There were some teachers from the old Woodside school there along with many new.

My role was as Student Support Worker (now called Teaching Assistants).

I was lucky enough to be assigned to Craig Fosters' class, an eager bunch of year seven students. 

Every school has one or two exceptional teachers, willing to go beyond their roles and reach out to the students they work with. Craig was one among these type of teachers. It was always clear to me that he worked for the students and not just with them. He had a really great relationship with his class but maintained the boundaries that had to be in place. I laughed every day I was with him. 

     When I began to feel unwell Craig was genuinely concerned for me. I fell asleep in the staff room a few times and he came to find me for lessons. As this was all unusual circumstances for me, I knew I had to seek medical advice. 

Craig insisted that I should visit the Dr too. After a few days I found out that I was pregnant with my son Kross. I went back to work and found him teaching another class. He came outside the classroom and as his class could see us both through the glass panels, they were confused as to why he cuddled me and lifted me off my feet. He was the first member of teaching staff I told. 

I was really saddened to hear of his death. It is such a great loss. There was no question that I wanted to be at his funeral to pay my last respects to him. I arrived at the crematorium and was met by Woodside students, now grown men and women, and students from the school he recently taught at.

There were too many people present to get into the chapel, so well over 100 of us were standing outside listening to the service on loudspeakers. 

      The tributes by his son and daughter were really touching and funny but the one that moved me to tears the most was the one that Craig had prepared  himself. It was read out at the service and felt like he was there reading it. He spoke of his love for his son whom he described as his best friend, and his daughter whom he called his angel. His wife Melanie was reminded of how much he loved her and he said that she is the one whom he loved more than anything else in this world. It was a beautiful part of the service. 

I am really glad I was there as a final farewell to a brilliant teacher and an equally brilliant man, who was only ever kind, thoughtful and funny. He will truly be missed by so many.

I dedicate this blog to the one and only Mr Craig Foster.