A working-class pride

Mum’s father was a plater in Harland & Wolff shipyard, as was her brother Robert, who was also a staunch trade unionist and shop steward. The whole family were very proud of their working-class roots. Mum would often remind people that one of our close relatives was a ‘master stair-builder’. Her father was locally renowned as a ‘shipyard poet’ and wrote about the trials and tribulations of Belfast working-class life. One of her favourite poems of his was titled A Passing Beauty, perhaps because it was about a young working-class girl just like herself:

         A crest of tangled auburn was her hair,
         A faultless brow beneath it, white as milk,
         And both her eyes were pools of shimmering silk;
         The sun had graced her face and rested there.

         So blithe she was, and supple as a fawn,
         And straight from heels to head as some tall pine.
         A dove took wing within this heart of mine;
         A breath of scented air, and she was gone.

         Sweet memory, lingering yet, eʼen shadows fall,
         Of a humble factory lass, dressed in her shawl.

Mum may not have worn a shawl too often, but she certainly had a deep fondness for scarves, and she amassed a large collection, all in beautiful colours and designs. 

Sadly, her father never saw any of us five children as he died of a brain haemorrhage a few months before I – the eldest – was born. But we always felt connected to him through his poetry.

 
Her beautiful hair

Mum was extremely proud of her hair, and went to great lengths to keep it in good condition. Her niece Roberta, emailing her condolences from Canada, commented: 
“I also never forgot the way Helen looked with her thick hair turned in a roll at the end. She looked like a well-known film star of the day, Veronica Lake. I really do think Helen’s hair was more beautiful. I think we called it ‘The Page Boy!’ I always wanted to feel the weight of it and it felt so nice to touch. I always marvelled as I got older how she kept it in place and so neat.”

The National Health Service

When standing beside Mum’s bed, a few hours after she had passed away, Siobhan said to me: “Mum once told me that Grandpa Atkinson’s dying words were that he could now die peacefully, because his greatest dream had been realised – the creation of a National Health Service. He would be so pleased and proud to know that that same National Health Service had looked after our Mum so well throughout the years; especially the care, and compassion they had shown her – and to all of us – over these last few weeks of her life.”

Shoe shop patience

Mum worked for many years for Reids Shoes on Sandy Row and was well-loved in the children’s department for the sensitive way she could deal with young children and their often stressed-out parents. No matter how many pairs of shoes had to be tried on, Mum never ever made it a problem. Indeed, when parents came in, they would often wait patiently for her, rather than be served by anyone else.

Christmas time

Mum always tried to make Christmas special for her children, her grandchildren and her great-grandchildren. To her, Christmas was a time for loving and sharing. And not only for her own family. When her brother Robert worked in Harland & Wolff he would stand beside the wages’ office each week during November and December collecting money to buy presents for children’s homes, particularly Bernardo’s. The Yardmen would inevitably grumble but they never failed to give generously. Then Robert would go into town to buy a wide assortment of toys and other gifts, and the whole family would then sit together on the floor and parcel these toys. (Ironically, I was to get my own children to do the very same when I worked as a social worker for the NSPCC.)

       Michael