In memory of Vera Salisbury Kelly July 1916 - March 2008 Nana Vera On the ninth of June 1941 Vera Salisbury Darlington married the only romantic love of her life and became Vera Salisbury Kelly – but she was Mum, or Vera or Nana Vera to her family and friends. She was born in the middle of the first world war – on the eighth of July 1916 – and married in the middle of the second world war. Mum was the second eldest of a large family in Dublin, with four sisters and two brothers: George, Arthur, Gertie, Isa, Ruth and Annie. A close family whose next two, (or is it three?) generations on, are still dropping in and out of each others houses – whenever I have to go to Dublin on business, Auntie Annie still insists that I stay in her house, rather than use a hotel. They were a devout family, and my mother was sent to Sunday School, and was brought up to show respect, to show charity, and to pray – she did not have to be taught to be attentive, as that was completely natural to her. Mum was a bright energetic girl who loved needlework, cycling, and Club Swinging. It is elegant exercise for ladies – at least, that was how it was presented by the Girl’s Brigade, of which Mum was a staunch member. Mum was very good at Club Swinging – so good that, when she was sixteen years old, she was entered in The Tailteann [pronounced: Tol-teen] Games as a competitor. The other competitors were Irish Army gymnasts and much older and more experienced ladies. Against that sort of competition she didn’t stand a chance … but you didn’t ever say anything like that to Vera Darlington … and she won. In front of the crowded Croke Park stadium she was presented to Cardinal MacRory, who put out his ringed hand – and Mum shook it. A cry of “Oh!” went up from the crowd – well, Mum had never been told you are supposed to kiss a cardinal’s ring, not shake his hand – her family was staunchly Protestant. She loved Needlework, Cycling, Club Swinging – and Dancing. And not just any dancing, but acrobatic dancing and tap dancing. To do tap dancing you need a teacher, and there was an older boy from a Catholic family who had become a Protestant – and in Dublin, in those years, that was a very difficult and courageous thing to do – and he was introduced to the family as a wonderful tap dancer who could teach. “Are you married?” the ten year old Vera Darlington asked her dance teacher. “No,” said Percy Kelly, “but you hurry and grow up, and I’ll wait for you.” Vera and Percy spent more and more time together, appearing on stage in amateur reviews and shows, some organized by churches in Dublin, to raise money for charity, and going out cycling together in the countryside around the city. And they fell in love, and got engaged. They found a house in Fiztroy Avenue in the centre of Dublin, and moved in when married. In time Mum was ready to produce their first child – but tragedy struck, the baby could not be born and Mum was half paralysed by thrombosis, and in hospital for over six months. Eventually Mum regained the use of her left leg and came home, but was not allowed to take up her vigorous dancing again. Mum’s second baby was a serious, dark-haired boy – and just eleven months later her third was a noisy blond boy. The dark- haired boy was easy to keep tidy, and quick to start talking. The blond boy was impossible to keep tidy, and would turn himself ram upside down the instant she looked away from him. And the two brothers were always arguing with each other about the right way to say “cigarette” (“sidlerette” “no – sigathorette”), or who was allowed to eat which sweet. Alas, there was another tragedy. Derek – the elder son – aged just three years old, caught meningitis, and died. To add to the troubles, just a little later, Ian – the younger son – caught TB, and was taken in to isolation, away from home, for nearly a year. Eventually Ian was declared fit, and Mum and Dad decided to move away from Dublin – by then associated with so many unhappy memories – and make a new start in England, where, for a while, she had to nurse my Dad, Percy, through a illness from which he thankfully recovered. While her son Ian – that’s me – was at primary school Mum did not go out to work, but was a private dressmaker. I took my Mum’s huge skills for granted, and was puzzled why the other boys at school did not have five sets of made-to-measure clothes to wear during the school week – a new clean set for each day. Mum was always an attentive and loving mother and wife, looking after her two men with great care and hard work. The Veleta, the Gainsborough Glide, the Military Two-Step – Mum and Dad could easily remember these sequences, and they took their son along too. Mum made her own ball gowns, just like the amazing puffs of lace and toile you see in Edwardian photographs – and she looked marvellous. I can add that, as a result of my learning these Old Time dances, history repeated itself when I taught a beautiful girl the Boston Two-Step. Vera – Mum – was a sister, then a wife, then a mother – and then a mother-in-law (to my dancing pupil), and much loved grandmother. She gave up work and cared for my Dad, Percy with the greatest attention and the fondest love in his final illness. After he died, in 1976, Mum came to live in Weybridge, near to her son and daughter-in-law and grandson. Mum was reasonably strict with her son – but Nana Vera was completely indulgent with her grandson – for example, she allowed him to do things with a pot of gloss paint that we, his parents, would never have risked. When Miranda arrived, it was Mum who picked Benjamin up from school, dunked him in the bath, and made him all clean and smart to see his little sister for the first time. My Mum was able to teach: she shared her knowledge with willingness. Gay already knew a lot about fine-quality dressmaking, taught by her mother Grace – also a superb needlewoman – and it was my Mum who taught Gay all sorts of techniques and tricks, used in commercial production, that allowed her to become the fine needlewoman that she too now is. Mum was thrilled that she was able to teach Miranda some skills as well – I think beading and knitting were two of the things Nana Vera helped Miranda learn. Nana Vera was immensely proud of both her grandchildren, and loved them hugely. Mum would not take a job off someone, but would show them how to do it, and make sure that they could – which is much more helpful. Not that she was unable to do the jobs herself – far from it. When Mum was managing the sewing room of a large factory in London, a driver came to collect a batch of dresses. When they counted the dresses they found that, for some reason, they were one short. Now this client would not accept partial deliveries – they either had to be all there, or none of them would be taken – and that was quite a lot of money for one batch of dresses. Mum said “give him a cup of coffee, and do NOT get in my way”. So, in the next twenty minutes, while the driver was drinking a cup of coffee, Mum laid out the material, placed on the pattern, cut the material, sewed the dress, overlocked the seams, pressed the dress, made and bound the buttonholes, attached the buttons – and I don’t know what else – and put the dress on a hanger ready for collection. A completed dress from material to factory-finished in twenty minutes – and the driver knew nothing about it, and drove away with a full batch. My Mum was a very private lady, and did not pick up hundreds of mere acquaintances. Instead, she had a few loyal friends whom she loved – Nancy and Tony and their family were in that small and select group. You know, Nancy, you were privileged to go on holiday with my Mum more often that I did – and I know she really loved your company, and that of your family. Her last few years were not comfortable – she was a quiet and reserved lady, but the physical nature of her deterioration took away, it seemed, some of her dignity, which she was determined to try and preserve at all costs – thank you to the nurses who looked after and helped Nana Vera when her wit and resourcefulness had been taken from her. She was, I know, sometimes seemingly obstinate. She was obstinate all her life, dear Mum – obstinate that things should be done correctly, determined that politeness would never be transgressed, stubborn that good would always be preferred above evil. I asked the family how they would sum up Mum, Nana Vera, and all of them said things like: caring, did not impose herself, loyal, loving, private, liked by everyone. I would add: she was a Christian – a true Christian – showing by example the caring for others, the loving others to which we have all been called. Her simple faith shone out, and she might have expressed it in the words of the hymn that she loved: “Jesus loves me! this I know, / For the Bible tells me so; / Little ones to Him belong, / They are weak, but He is strong. // Jesus loves me! He will stay / Close beside Him, when I die / He will take me home on high.” Thank you Mum, Nana Vera, for everything you have been. And thank you, Lord, for allowing us to share in her life. Goodbye for now, Mum – and if I get there, see you in Heaven. Thanks to Ian Kelly, her son, for this special tribute. Back To Memories