Margaret Dorothy Worrall was born, the second of identical twins, in Bulwell, Nottingham on the 12th of June, 1927. Her parents, Dorothy, an office worker and George, a musician, already had a son. She and her sister, Mary, were always very close, and must often have caused mayhem, though nothing suggests they were especially naughty. She told me they would usually dress identically, and often change places. At school, they were sat apart, and one teacher made one sister to wear a ribbon so that she knew which was which; until, of course, they swapped the ribbon at break-time! Even Granny – their mother – might have to look carefully to distinguish them, and I remember being caught out even when they were in their thirties. Once, so Mum said, Mary paid her to go out with a boy she had decided she didn’t like, and he only realized after an hour of talking, mentioning things from what he thought was their previous evening out
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Their school Matriculation came up in the early years of the war, a daunting moment for all pupils, and they initially thought to apply for nursing careers, but could find no training vacancies in Nottingham, so decided on librarianship. Just at this time, their older and much loved brother, Gerald, was killed in a flying training accident in America, a memory of continuing regret forever after. 
 
Reading his letters home, which Mum kept until she died, I discovered how important the family’s religious beliefs were. All were staunch non-Conformists, and much of their correspondence with each other was about the churches, and services, they attended. Later she was confirmed in membership of the Church of England, and her faith in God remained steadfast always.
 
Mum met Dad through her work at the library and they married. Shortly after they moved, due to his work, to London, where I was born in 1949. They had a flat near Barnes Bridge, and I have a picture of them with an infant in a carry-cot, taken by the River; I expect that was me! A year or so later, they moved to Warley, Birmingham, where we stayed for several years, which were especially marked by the arrival of Alice. Mother kept house, entertained friends and family, and looked after Alice and I; she was a dab hand at sewing, too, and I particularly remember the costumes she made  for us to wear at the Coronation – Andy-Pandy and Looby-Loo, since we were brought up with a television, unusual in those days.
 
Family holidays were spent, often with Mary, Ralph and our cousins Margaret, Richard and Francis, travelling to Tal-y-Bont in Wales, or Overstrand in Norfolk. Mum would feed us well using the caravan cooker, sort our wet clothes at the beach, and always find time to help with sandcastles or bedtime stories. She also put up with camping on the boat, a rather more basic affair, as we toured the Midlands along the canals.
 
Another new job for Dad took us to Leicestershire, and a new house in Quorn. Alice and I joined the many other local children in using the incomplete buildings as an exciting playground, with surprisingly few injuries! Kate and then Ruth joined our family – in the usual way, of course. Mum could always find time for all four of us, busy though two toddlers kept her. All through these years, there were regular trips to visit grandparents, by bus or train, and we were dressed-up, then shepherded to Nottingham or Gnosall.
 
For many years Mum felt bullied by her mother-in-law, who had very old-fashioned views about the importance  of the male, and a woman’s place. Eventually, she told me, she decided that as a forty year old, successfully running a household, she need not put up with that anymore; a row ensued, but thereafter Grandma Freshwater changed her ways, and things between them went much better. That said, a few years later, when I first took Lynda to Quorn to meet the family, we found that she and Aunty Kathleen (a formidable ex-nursing sister) were just back from visiting Grandma, and had got out the whisky, in late afternoon, to recuperate! Lynda was relieved to find her potential mother-in-law more relaxed than she had feared.
 
With “the littlies”, we had holidays camping abroad, good times with the whole family, enjoying adventures available to few in the sixties. A few years later, first Alice then I were married, and the family increased and spread out. Mum always kept in touch, and surrounded her grandchildren with love, as she continued to do for them, and their children in turn, for the rest of her life. 
 
Dad left in the ‘70s. Alice and Colin, Lynda and I, were living at opposite ends of the country, so Mum had to cope with her new isolation, and care for Kate and Ruth by herself. Her love and her faith made this possible, and her efforts helped give us the wonderful sisters, mothers and grandmothers they have become. 
When they were married in turn, and established homes of their own, Mum moved to Malvern, with her mother, to be near to Mary. There she looked after Granny until she died, but looked forward to visiting her sister more often, as well as spending time with her own, now more extensive, family. Tragically, Mary died of an infection in her early sixties, following which, I think, Mother always felt lost; twins remain close, and Mary was very important to her. 
 
Mum was always there to help and support. When Sam was born, she was with Kate, and helped her with Sam as much as she could, eventually sharing a house with them. When I was injured, and Lynda had to be away, Mum came to Shetland, with Kate and Sam, to look after me, too.  Her children and grandchildren were the joy of her life, and she loved to see them. Even in her latter years, she could often be found on her knees on the floor, playing with the little ones. Her generosity with help was not confined to family, and she gave her time in a number of endeavors, as a member of Quorn Parochial Church Council, with running the Oxfam shop and the WRVS Meals-on-Wheels service, too.
 
Her schooling, then training and working in libraries, gave her an abiding love of literature and poetry, which she also passed on to her children. She wrote poetry herself, and had a small collection that she kept, revised, and re-read until she could manage no more. We were pleased though saddened, to find them amongst her papers after she died.  Another great love was gardening. The garden at Malvern was a considerable work of development, incorporating a water feature of note and much new planting. She continued her interest at Fairway Road, working with Kate to produce the lovely garden we shall visit shortly.
 
Mother surrounded her family and her friends with love, and this will be our abiding memory of her.
 
I shall finish with one of her poems:- 

 
 
“In one insensate, frenetic rush
Life passes.
No time to hear, in the noon-day hush,
The roses shed their petals on the lawn,
Or watch the naked branches change, through
Swelling green to snowy-white hawthorn.
 
The quarters chime from the grey church spire, 
Life’s passing.
No time to sit in the oak-carved choir
And sing, with those who built the vaulted roof,
But thoughtless, pursue our rackety lives,
Unknowing, impenitent, aloof.