Joan Patricia Elliott
 
Thank you so much for coming today. 
 
Mum was a truly remarkable woman, and I will try, in these few short minutes to reflect on her incredibly full and active 95 years of life.
 
Joan Patricia Peterson was born on 12th June 1924, and was brought up in Katherine Road, East Ham.
 
Her story really starts before this, when her paternal Grandfather,  Elia Peteroff was smuggled out of Russia in the late 19th Century,        amidst ambiguous tales of a failed attempt to overthrow the Czar, gunboat diplomacy and a change of her family’s name to Peterson.
 
Mum lived her early years with her parents, Elia and Sarah in the aftermath of WW1.
 
Her father had fought in the War as a sapper in the Royal Signal Corps, having been awarded the Military Medal for bravery in the field. Her mother, worked for the Admiralty in the London docks.
 
It had not been a good war for the family – two Uncles (Andrew and Alfred) were killed in France,      and three of mum’s sisters died before she was born – Grace aged 3 from Whooping Cough, and Mary (4) and Kate (7) from Spanish flu. We believe that two other siblings died at birth.
 
Family life was not easy – particularly when in 1926 her father was badly injured in a road accident. He remained an invalid for the rest of his life and struggled to hold down regular work as he got older. The family were embarrassed to rely on food vouchers and financial support from other members of the family – including his brother Jim who had become a successful master builder, living in Hornchurch.
 
However, mum’s early life was a happy one. One of her particularly fond memories was the family’s annual holiday to ‘Dulce Doman’, a house built by her father’s uncle,  John Bellman in Pitsea.
 
She later wrote of idyllic games in its gardens, cooking and eating (two of mum’s favourite pastimes!), and evenings in the music room which housed both a grand piano and a small organ (the Bellman’s were piano tuners and organ builders).        Our choice of song for the Committal today, ‘Love’s Old Sweet Song’, was her father’s party piece at the family gatherings.
 
 
Her last visit to the house was during WW2, where she witnessed the distant glow of London burning under the assault of German bombing raids.      Back at home, she survived the Blitz by spending relentless nights hiding in the family Anderson shelter, before being evacuated to the relative safety of Brighton.        It was there that she met one of her lifelong friends, Ivy, who, being bit of a party girl, tried to lead mum astray in the evenings whilst they worked by day for Kearly & Tonge the grocery store.
 
Mum would sometimes return to London for the weekend to see her parents. However on one notable trip back to the coast, and as the train silently pulled into Brighton Station under the pitch darkness of the blackout, she climbed down from the train, only to discover that it was still moving       and suffered the inelegant embarrassment of a crumpled landing on the platform.           Much to her horror, her indignity was complete as she turned to see coming towards her an avalanche of kit bags thrown by soldiers hastily disembarking from the train…
 
After the War, mum carried on working at Kearly & Tonge as a secretary to one of their directors, and lived the life of a young single woman – often tagging along with Ivy. They also travelled – and according to one of her accounts seemed to eat their way around Europe – with mum diarising in minute detail every cake consumed.
 
Mum met my dad George at an art class in 1957 and married on the 4th July 1959. They enjoyed 44 years of very happy marriage, and were caring and loving parents to Paul and myself.    I grew up assuming that my rather straight-talking father, a man who knew his own mind, was head of the family – however only last week I came across one of mum’s letters to him, written whilst they were courting, where she hints at a different reality, and I quote:
 
“I know it’s really not necessary to ask after your health, being such a fit, healthy character but hope you’re not suffering any ill-effects from our debates over the weekend –
you should get yourself a girlfriend with a little less to say for herself”
 
As mum and dad became free of their children, they threw themselves into their retirement. Both learned Italian and made several trips to Lake D’Iseo where they made many local friends including Achille, who had helped British pilots to escape during the War. There were many other trips around the UK and Europe.
 
They also both returned to their art and produced more work than the house had wall space. Mum, spent the rest of her spare time in her beloved garden (a hobby she inherited from her father), making sure that not a single inch was left untended or uncovered with beautiful plants.
She also found time to return to dabbling on the piano – something she had last done at Dulce Doman. Food was another passion for mum and her often started ‘diets’ never really lasted long…
 
Sadly, in 2003 my father died, and the family wondered how mum would survive without him – she had seemed so dependent on him.       How wrong we were – at the age of 82, I assumed that she would want to move closer to me, however she wisely chose instead to move further away, to Hornchurch. 
 
She has been blessed to have lived with fantastic friends and neighbours, and has truly lived life to the full – remaining gloriously and inspirationally independent up until just the last few weeks of her life.  
 
In Hornchurch she continued to paint prolifically (including being a member of Havering’s Contemporary Women-Artists group).      The Rural Close garden gave mum a new challenge and she admirably took up the long term hobby of growing bonsai trees in her 80s.    She also passed the 50 year mark at her keep fit classes, and was always keen to demonstrate how effortless is was to touch her toes!  
 
Mum also made many trips to the theatre as well as her beloved ‘Forest Phil’;   countless visits to gardens around the south east, and even a painting holiday to the south of France…..   
 
I understand that over the years there have been more than a few ‘ladies lunches’…..
 
Of course not everything she turned her hand to was successful – my dad never really recovered from mums attempts to learn to drive; and from time to time her cooking exploits went awry – one Sunday lunchtime I was surprised to find her missing scouring pad hiding in my greens,       and she set fire to the towels in the kitchen on more than one occasion.  
 
In her 90’s she laudably embraced her ipad, although this meant the rest of the family laudably embraced creative ways to help her out of the fixes she found herself in. She should’ve had a career with Apple as a product tester!
 
 
Ironically possibly her worst painting is also the one I shall cherish the most – her portrait that has immortalized me as a cross between Gandhi and a Mexican bandit. I proudly use it as my iphone screen saver and it brings much joy to everyone who sees it!        I suspect that she did it     to get back at me    for failing as a teenager to complete my Duke of Edinburgh award – robbing her of a much prized trip to meet the Queen!
 
I have often wondered what kept mum going - and I believe, above all else, that it was her never ending thirst for knowledge – something she inherited from her father, who was known as ‘the bookworm’ in the WW1 trenches.  
 
She has always wanted to know about anything and everything – Not a single taxi driver who brought her to our house (often a two hour journey) would escape without divulging a full account of their own life story, giving mum an appreciation of life in faraway places such as Afghanistan or Iran.
 
Mum’s unique thought process and line of questioning would disconcertingly dart between
‘what have you been up to this week?’ or ‘how are the kids?’ alongside
‘so how does the internet work?’ or ‘what is the purpose of a prime number?’.  
 
Mum always kept us on our toes.  However, we never got to finish the explanation of how Brexit will work…
 
And in her last few weeks, we have all been so grateful for the wonderful care and support she received from health professionals as well as her friends and neighbours. During it all, mum continued to hold a truly remarkable outlook on life, never complaining, never wanting to make a fuss, facing the end of her days with immeasurable dignity and grace.  
 
To those that knew her, she has been a wonderful friend, neighbour, colleague, relative, daughter, mother, mother-in-law, grandmother and great grandmother, loved by all. She was a truly remarkable lady and she will be dearly missed.
 
May her memory live long in our hearts.