Beatrice Judd (Toller)
We are together this afternoon to celebrate the life and work of my mother, Beatrice Judd. My mother was born in 1903, which means that she was an Edwardian, born before aeroplanes, radio, television and computers. Who lived through two world wars, married, had two children and worked hard, as a greengrocer, as a farmer's wife and as a teacher, and outlived nearly all her contemporaries.
My mother was born a Toller in Hemingford Abbotts and lived there and in Hemingford Grey with her parents and sisters and brothers. And there were many of those.
My mother would tell the story of how, when her elder sister wanted a reference from the lady of the manor, Lady Hemingford wrote, "Miss Toller comes from good yeoman stock". My grandmother was a little annoyed at such patronage. My mother was amused; I feel quite proud.
On another occasion she and her sisters filled the gumboots of their small brother with horse manure in an attempt to accelerate his growth. Perhaps they had a point, Uncle John was six feet tall!
In due time she went to Huntingdon Grammar School, as did her future husband and children. She was a good student and her school prizes were some of the earliest books that I read. After matriculation she went to Hockerell College and trained as a teacher, but married quite soon after.
Philip Judd came from another farming family in Great Paxton and there were many brothers and sisters in that family too.
In the late 20s she left teaching to help her husband and her brother set up a greengrocery business in Dagenham in Essex in the late 20s. This was then a very raw new suburb of London.
During the second world war, with the children sent to safety in the country, she managed a greengrocers shop, and served with her husband as an instructor in 227 Squadron Air Training Corps. She taught aircraft recognition and navigation to many young men, some of whom never came back from their battles in the skies above Britain.
When the war ended the family came together again and returned to farm in Great Paxton, where she took over as Head Teacher in the village school. At the time there was a move to close such small schools, there were only about 50 on the roll. It is a measure of my mother's persistence and courage that she fought the local authority to a standstill. The new and very successful school at Great Paxton will stand as a monument to her for many years.
In her retirement, and after the death of her husband she made a round the world trip, stopping off to see the sisters and brothers who had emigrated. She had a bunbgalow built, whose design won an award; she lived alone there for many years but eventually went to live with her daughter and son-in-law. For many years she had made rugs, crocheted and knitted until at length her fingers became too tired. I still wear a sweater she made me when she was well past 80 - it promises to last my lifetime.
But her mind remained sharp and she was still working at crossword puzzles from the Daily Telegraph at 94.
But no account of this kind can recall to mind what sort of a person she was, her personality, her spirit. For she was a strong person, an individual of character, and of strong opinions forcefully expressed. She had a belief in moral rectitude and she was a woman who wanted the best for children, not only her own, and her grandchildren and great-grandchildren, but all those children that she taught, and there were many hundreds of those.
I would like to close by reading a poem which she used to read to me when I was very young, and which I know was a favourite of hers. It is by W.B.Yeats.
I will arise and go now, and go to Inisfree,
And a small cabin build there, of clay and wattles made:
Nine bean-rows I will have there, a hive for the honey-bee,
And live alone in the bee-loud glade.
And I shall have some peace there, for peace comes dropping slow,
Dropping from the veils of the morning to where the cricket sings;
There midnight's all a glimmer, and noon a purple glow,
And evening full of the linnet's wings.
I will arise and go now, for always night and day
I hear lake water lapping with low sounds by the shore;
While I stand on the road way, or on the pavements grey,
I hear it in the deep heart's core.
Thank you.
Last updated 15th March 1999
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