IN MEMORIAM.
Lilian Florence Barnden.
Lilian was born in Portsmouth shortly before midnight on the last day of December 1907, the third of the four daughter family of William Arthur Pope, a foreman baker and his wife Edith who, when he met her, was a cook at Charterhouse School.
Lilian often joked that had she been born a few minutes later she would have been a year younger. By the same token, she would have been 103 today had she not departed - as she arrived - a little early (22. 12. 2010).
In a life which saw two world wars, the early years of the aeroplane, radio, the telephone and television and the fall of the British Empire, she had a secure childhood, strictly disciplined by her mother and gently indulged by a father who, though absent during WW1, was one of those who fortunately survived the conflict. When he returned, “Ginny” (his pet name for her in reference to her beautiful golden hair) would have nothing to do with him until he shaved off the ‘military’ moustache he had grown during the war.
She always did know her own mind.
From early childhood Lilian was an entertainer. She danced, sang, acted, played the violin and once won a talent competition (a ten shilling note) in a Portsmouth theatre, for whistling. Unfortunately she had neglected to seek her mother’s permission beforehand so her triumph was short-lived. Her ears were boxed, her prize was thrown on the fire, and she was told: “A whistling woman and a crowing hen are neither fit for God nor men.”
They taught tough lessons, the Victorians.
By the time she reached her early twenties, Lilian’s dream of a career as a ballet dancer was over. She had suffered an injury to the base of her spine that was to trouble her on and off for the rest of her life.
In June 1929 she married William who worked for his uncles‘ building firm, They lived in and around Portsmouth, where they were members of the Portsmouth Choral Society and Will sang bass in Portsmouth Male Voice Choir.
In 1930 Lilian gave birth to son Dennis, coming close to death in the process. A year or two later (little was ever said of it) twin boys were stillborn and it was advised that the pair should discontinue trying for children. They responded by fostering Harold and Brian, the sons of their next door neighbour, when his marriage broke up.
After the blitzes on Portsmouth, the family - including the two lads - moved to a large house in Bognor Regis. The boys continued to be part of the family until their father remarried and they rejoined him. They forever remained kind and loyal honorary sons of “Aunty Barnden.”
Lilian and Will moved back to Portsmouth while the buzz bombs were still falling and settled in a flat in Southsea where they remained until the early fifties: they then moved out of town to Widley, on the side of Portsdown Hill. It was to be their final move; Will died suddenly at the age of 54.
Lilian continued to run a weekly old time dance in Portsmouth (she danced to Gold Medal standard) and obtained a job in Widley sub post office.
Dennis, not long out of the army, married Maureen and Lilian’s first two grandchildren, Neil and Jacqueline, were born in 1964 and 65 respectively.
In 1968 Dennis and Maureen moved to the Isle of Wight and bought a house at Wootton Bridge. Their daughter Rosalind was born there a couple of years later.
In 1973 Lilian moved across to be closer to the family. Initially she lived at Cowes, then came an eight years spell at Wootton, then two quite lengthy periods in flats at Newport. During this time, Roz gave birth to Lilian’s great granddaughter, Jessica, who was later to nickname her great grandmother G.G. Jess is now 15. Some ten years ago it became apparent that Lilian was in need of permanent assistance and she moved to Rosebury, now Cornelia Manor Care Home, where she has since remained.
For as long as she could see, hear and physically manage, she maintained an independent attitude to looking after herself, watching and feeding the birds outside her window, following events on her radio and television, and taking in news of the family, particularly her grandchildren and great grandchildren (Jess was joined by little brother Ellis five years ago and he was an instant favourite).
Lilian was a devout Christian, an unapologetic fault-finder, a good friend, an unrelenting enemy and, basically, a well-meaning human being for whom not that much ever went truly right.
God won’t find too much wrong in her. He kept her waiting far longer than she wished. If it comes to finger pointing, He won’t stand a chance.
Lilian Florence Barnden.
Lilian was born in Portsmouth shortly before midnight on the last day of December 1907, the third of the four daughter family of William Arthur Pope, a foreman baker and his wife Edith who, when he met her, was a cook at Charterhouse School.
Lilian often joked that had she been born a few minutes later she would have been a year younger. By the same token, she would have been 103 today had she not departed - as she arrived - a little early (22. 12. 2010).
In a life which saw two world wars, the early years of the aeroplane, radio, the telephone and television and the fall of the British Empire, she had a secure childhood, strictly disciplined by her mother and gently indulged by a father who, though absent during WW1, was one of those who fortunately survived the conflict. When he returned, “Ginny” (his pet name for her in reference to her beautiful golden hair) would have nothing to do with him until he shaved off the ‘military’ moustache he had grown during the war.
She always did know her own mind.
From early childhood Lilian was an entertainer. She danced, sang, acted, played the violin and once won a talent competition (a ten shilling note) in a Portsmouth theatre, for whistling. Unfortunately she had neglected to seek her mother’s permission beforehand so her triumph was short-lived. Her ears were boxed, her prize was thrown on the fire, and she was told: “A whistling woman and a crowing hen are neither fit for God nor men.”
They taught tough lessons, the Victorians.
By the time she reached her early twenties, Lilian’s dream of a career as a ballet dancer was over. She had suffered an injury to the base of her spine that was to trouble her on and off for the rest of her life.
In June 1929 she married William who worked for his uncles‘ building firm, They lived in and around Portsmouth, where they were members of the Portsmouth Choral Society and Will sang bass in Portsmouth Male Voice Choir.
In 1930 Lilian gave birth to son Dennis, coming close to death in the process. A year or two later (little was ever said of it) twin boys were stillborn and it was advised that the pair should discontinue trying for children. They responded by fostering Harold and Brian, the sons of their next door neighbour, when his marriage broke up.
After the blitzes on Portsmouth, the family - including the two lads - moved to a large house in Bognor Regis. The boys continued to be part of the family until their father remarried and they rejoined him. They forever remained kind and loyal honorary sons of “Aunty Barnden.”
Lilian and Will moved back to Portsmouth while the buzz bombs were still falling and settled in a flat in Southsea where they remained until the early fifties: they then moved out of town to Widley, on the side of Portsdown Hill. It was to be their final move; Will died suddenly at the age of 54.
Lilian continued to run a weekly old time dance in Portsmouth (she danced to Gold Medal standard) and obtained a job in Widley sub post office.
Dennis, not long out of the army, married Maureen and Lilian’s first two grandchildren, Neil and Jacqueline, were born in 1964 and 65 respectively.
In 1968 Dennis and Maureen moved to the Isle of Wight and bought a house at Wootton Bridge. Their daughter Rosalind was born there a couple of years later.
In 1973 Lilian moved across to be closer to the family. Initially she lived at Cowes, then came an eight years spell at Wootton, then two quite lengthy periods in flats at Newport. During this time, Roz gave birth to Lilian’s great granddaughter, Jessica, who was later to nickname her great grandmother G.G. Jess is now 15. Some ten years ago it became apparent that Lilian was in need of permanent assistance and she moved to Rosebury, now Cornelia Manor Care Home, where she has since remained.
For as long as she could see, hear and physically manage, she maintained an independent attitude to looking after herself, watching and feeding the birds outside her window, following events on her radio and television, and taking in news of the family, particularly her grandchildren and great grandchildren (Jess was joined by little brother Ellis five years ago and he was an instant favourite).
Lilian was a devout Christian, an unapologetic fault-finder, a good friend, an unrelenting enemy and, basically, a well-meaning human being for whom not that much ever went truly right.
God won’t find too much wrong in her. He kept her waiting far longer than she wished. If it comes to finger pointing, He won’t stand a chance.
