Thank you all for coming today to help pay tribute and celebrate the life of Jean. I would like to share with you a brief story of mum’s life.

Mum’s full name was Jean Vera Buckley but she didn't really like being called Vera. She was born in Madras , now Chennai, Southern India on the 17th of February 1934 to Tom and Mary Patterson.

Jean had an older sister Heather, who sadly passed away last year, 2 younger sisters Pearl and Marie, and the youngest of the family was Tom. Tragically their father died when Jean was only 5 years old, and 9 days before Tom was born. As you can imagine this had a devastating effect on their mother Mary. Fortunately, her brother and his wife and family who had 3 children of their own, came down to live with them in a small 2 bedroomed house. Despite this loss, it didn't take Mary long to pull herself together, as she was a resilient woman. She had been one of the first women in India to obtain a degree, and soon she got a job as a teacher with the British Railway School. This was lucky as it came with accommodation, but you can imagine how tough life must have been bringing up 5 young children on her own in India. 

Mum often told us that she had a poor but happy childhood, although she was quite ill during her early years. Mum went to a convent school where the Catholic Church was a large part of her life. Eventually she did her teachers training in Madras, where she worked up until 1957.

She was introduced by a friend of the family to Morris, initially just as a penpal. What had started with just exchanging letters and photos developed into something much more. Morris was working in Ghana at the time, and arranged to visit India, where it was love at first sight. They married and he whisked her back off to Ghana, which must have been quite an upheaval leaving India and her family. Mum was really happy in West Africa, and often talked about her fond memories of the time spent there. She returned to England briefly to have Peter in 1958 and they purchased their first house in Palmers Green but continued to live in West Africa. They lived and worked in a number of different countries including Ghana, Nigeria, Liberia and the Gold Coast, and they cemented many lifelong friendships there, some of these friends are with us today. Whilst in Ghana, I was born, and after this, Mum did return to the UK briefly in 1962 when she had her first experience in St. Monica's School when she worked for 3 months before returning to Nigeria to teach there for a year. In 1964 having moved to Liberia she set up her own private school for expat children, in partnership with Mary who is here today.

The Family finally returned to England where the headmaster Mr Moffat offered her a job and she duly started her service at Saint Monica’s school in November 1965, where she remained until retirement in 1994. This school became her life, and that is why it is fitting to return here today to say farewell. 
When she celebrated 25 years at the school, to commemorate this they wrote a poem, which we would like to share.

 POEM  - Bonnie Mrs Buckley

Who’s the one who’s always there,
Small and neat with pretty hair,
And about us all she’ll care,
Bonnie Mrs Buckley.
With her glasses on her nose,
Pretty hair and pretty clothes,
Everybody’s name she knows,                                      
Bonnie Mrs Buckley.
 
Class 14 is where you’ll find her,
Key to the cupboard there beside her,
Lots of sweets for us you’ll find there,
Bonnie Mrs Buckley.
She is working hard all day,
Makes us read then lets us play,
‘Pray for all the sick’ she’ll say,
Bonnie Mrs Buckley.
 
She collects our pennies round,
Some may even give a pound,
All for India they are bound
NOT for Mrs Buckley.
All Class 14 ought to know,
She is nice from head to toe,
We’ll love her for ever Oh
Bonnie Mrs Buckley.

Jean and  Morris, as many of you know, were devoted to each other. However, I think we all knew who wore the trousers in our house! After mum’s retirement they travelled extensively particularly to visit her brother Tom in America, and they joined us on several holidays to Switzerland, Austria, Spain and the South Coast of England.  We remember Mum spending hours on the beach designing elaborate sandcastles, lizards, boats and cars for the children. Her artistic flair never faded. They had a full and active retirement developing new hobbies. Whilst Dad was busy with his organ and jazz club, mum went off to college to study cake decorating and sugar craft. Many of you may well have seen some of her exceptional creations for her grandchildren’s birthday cakes, as well as wedding and celebration cakes. Her sugar craft designs were remarkable. They spent much of their time whenever they could with the grandchildren who they were devoted to. Mum was not only a babysitter but an amazing teacher for them as well, always singing nursery rhymes and happy to spend hours with craftwork. 
Her other passion was cooking. Dad was a meat and 2 veg man, so whenever family or friends would visit, she was always keen to try some new culinary masterpiece like Baked Alaska, Chocolate cream pie and especially curries. I’m sure many of you her will remember her famous curry parties. She would tell us not to let Dad know they were stuffed with garlic, which he said he hated, but he always consumed the curries with gusto.
Mum developed signs of Alzheimer’s back in 2010, and they moved to a warden controlled flat in Hitchin, where somehow they both coped with this, and muddled by despite some funny moments like leaving Dads walker in Iceland (the store that is) to be returned by the shop on their home delivery van. Dad’s health deteriorated fairly rapidly and sadly he passed away in 2015. Mum continued to live in Hitchin with the support of carers and in fact seemed to cope remarkably well after losing her beloved Morris after 58 years of marriage.

Eventually after her needs became greater, she moved to Stratford upon Avon in March last year where she lived in a specialist dementia care home. She seemed to settle well here surrounded by a loving caring team. We managed to see so much more of her as she was now on the doorstep and were amazed that despite the loss of her short term memory, she could recall any poem on any subject you gave her. This became a source of great wonder for the carers. She still remained very animated right up to the end reciting these poems as if speaking to her class of children. I would like to share one of these.

POEM  - Butterflies

BUTTERFLIES
 
 
I know a little butterfly
With tiny golden wings
He plays among the Summer flowers
And up and down he swings.
He dances on their honeycups
So happy all the day
And then he spreads his tiny wings,

And softly flies away.

Since her death we have received countless letters of condolences from teachers and friends and all of these have a common theme. Hard working, caring, warm, kind,  inspirational, loyal. One quote said ‘she was a remarkable woman whose object in life was to give the children the best start to their school lives’. Many recalled mums’ pennies for India charity which caught the children's imagination.  She was known for her elaborate and  wonderful displays, and also for her huge assortment of stylish and beautiful outfits. The letters and cards have been comforting, knowing how in both her professional and personal life she touched so many people and will live on in all our thoughts. 
One of Mum’s proudest moments was receiving a Benemerenti papal award upon retirement. She often said that god would take her when he was ready and right up to the end she remained truly faithful to god, and always carried her rosary with her. She knew that she would eventually join Dad. 

Whilst we mourn for the loss of a wonderful woman, an inspirational teacher, a caring and loving mother and a dedicated grandmother, we know she is finally now with her beloved Morris. Words cannot express the pain we feel for our loss, but we remain comforted that they are finally reunited.