No. 15 - A Talent for Joy

The twenties and thirties may have been before my time, but I have a wealth of photographs of my parents and their siblings to inspire me. My mother's older sister Annie-May is a growing inspiration, but had I ever told her that, she’d have chuckled dubiously and said something like: “Ahhh, now then…well…you see…” which would have dissolved into further chuckling.

Annie-May Hughes at 17 on 27th September 1921

There was a charming tradition at the time of having a photographic portrait taken professionally, having postcards made, and sending them to family, friends or objects of affection. When Annie-May died we found a stack of them among her belongings, mostly from young men. Not all of them hit the right note - Dai in his athletic gear might not have set pulses racing as he hoped (I think you're meant to wear the jockstrap beneath, not over the shorts Dai bach). Far better were Eddie and Leslie, and Gwyn who wrote touchingly on the back of his portrait ‘To the most pleasant time I ever spent.’

Clockwise from top left - Gwyn; Leslie, who offered 'lots of love and tons of it'; Dai; and Eddie, who tried his luck in 1921.

Annie-May passed on Gwyn and the other Welsh boys, choosing to marry a Somerset man named Silvester Stuckey - Uncle Sil to me. They must have been an eccentric sight as they thundered up the Rhondda hills on his motorbike. It sometimes caught fire, so Annie-May, riding pillion, was always clutching a tea towel, ready to beat out the flames so he didn’t have to stop on the steep hills. Sil's favourite party trick was to tie himself in a knot, a strange contortion that was photographed many times.

They set up a hairdressers’ shop in Tylorstown - a gentleman’s barber at the front with a ladies salon behind it. All the fabric in their parlour behind the shop formed a glorious and unashamed explosion of clashing colours, so loud you could hear it - the curtains, the rugs, the loose covers, the table cloth. And their bone china teacups were always floral, for Auntie Annie-May loved colour. When my parents were out doing adult things, they would babysit and I would draw and watch tv in that cheerful parlour. As darkness fell I would become drowsy in its cosiness, until I was carried out to the car, half asleep in my father’s arms.

Top left, Annie-May on 6th January 1922. Top right, Uncle Sil's party trick. Bottom, Anni-May and Sil at the beach with some pals.

The Stuckeys had no children but whether that was deliberate or not I don’t know. They liked me well enough, but I could be handed back at the end of the day. They always had dogs - when I was a kid it was Bonnie, a brown and white collie and Misty, a black Labrador. Before my time they also had a monkey named Koko. Auntie Annie-May and her dogs would take me for walks across the scarred and barren landscape, past the tips and derelict colliery buildings. In later years she would often remind me of precocious remarks I made on these walks. One glorious red sunset inspired her to recite the rhyme “Red sky at night, shepherds’ delight.” Catching the joy in her expression I responded with “Red sky at night, your delight.”

They retired and followed my mother up to Pwllheli in North Wales where they lived a tiny terraced cottage, only yards from the High Street. Its size was no hardship to a childless couple who frequently holidayed in caravans. They shared their home with Mitzi, a fat coffee-coloured poodle that was inclined to whine. Annie-May’s beef and dripping sandwiches were legendary and she liked to bring us small rhubarb or apple pies, which as a teenager I always welcomed.

Top: Annie-May and Sil in Ogmore-by-Sea in June 1931. Bottom: left Annie-May as beast of burden, centre Annie-May and Sil on 13th July 1928 in Aberdare, right Annie-May, Sil and Koko in 1936.

Annie-May wrung every last drop of joy from the moment. If you bought her a box of Cadbury's Milk Tray she would be transparently 'thrilled to bits'. Similarly treated, my mother and I were likely to wolf the chocolates down in a day, but Annie-May derived a greater, more lasting pleasure from the gift, making them last for weeks by having just one a day.

After Uncle Sil died, Auntie Annie-May found room for one more dog in her life, an otherwise doomed little creature optimistically named Snowy. He was bald, lame and very aggressive - but had he picked a fight with a carpet slipper, the slipper would almost certainly have won. At least his walks ensured she went outdoors - she was energetic and active for most of her 95 years.

I once visited her with my then partner and we accepted her gracious offer of a glass of Harvey's Bristol Cream, which she served in silver plated goblets. Had it been served in glass, or had the bottle not been green, I’m sure she’d have noticed that there was actually no sherry there. We didn’t like to say, so we pretended to drink as though she was a small child showing off her new tea set. When she offered us a refill, she realised that the bottle was empty and found another, so we did get our sherry in the end.

Auntie Annie-May and Uncle Sil in the mid-1970's

The last weeks of her life were spent in a home in Llanbedrog, and naturally I called on her with my mother. At one point Annie-May whispered for me to follow her, because she had something to show me. She took me to an empty storage cupboard under some stairs and seemed delighted with this private place she’d found. Afterwards I told my older brother about this - he nodded knowingly and said ‘Yeah. I’ve been to that cupboard with her too.’

On leaving her that last time, when I kissed her goodbye, she smiled that smile of hers and said joyfully, “Oh, it’s nice to have a kiss from a stranger.” I realised then that she had no idea who I was, which was sad for me, but she did not seem to be suffering any of the distress and confusion that I associate with dementia. She seemed somehow accepting - serene, peaceful and thankful for having had such a long and happy life.

She lived nearly a century savouring every pleasure, great and small, that came her way - boys, dogs, hairdressing, baking, holidays, chocolates. She had a talent for relishing whatever made her happy, and as I grow older, I try and be a bit more Auntie Annie-May.