A Tribute To Little Britches
(a few words on that nickname, Vanessa liked it very much, she used to shorten it to L’il britches)
My Dear Vanessa,
My lover, my ex-lover, my wife, my ex-wife, my friend and then some…
As someone once said of us, can’t live with, can’t live without.
We met 2 days before Christmas, 1981. She was temping at a company that I was also temporarily working at. I couldn’t take my eyes off her, catching glimpses from behind a filing cabinet. This doesn’t help when you’re trying to audit a business. I carefully planned my chat-up approach, got a date and we ended up that evening in a cocktail bar in Covent Garden. And that’s when it all started.
Vanessa certainly stood out from the crowd. I can still remember her walking across a busy Cavendish Square in London, to meet me after work; her brightly coloured floral skirt cutting a dash amongst the people.
And talking of people she was very much into them. This was reflected in her reading and she was a voracious reader. Biographies were her favourite, and she would often polish off a hefty book over a weekend. Many a time she would fall asleep, still clutching the latest autobiography, and I would have to prise it from her fingers, noting the page of course.
With the arrival of our daughters, she proved to be a superb mother. The girls always had her undivided attention, and by the time they started school Vanessa had given them a brilliant start in life.
Vanessa saw humour in most situations and most importantly she could laugh at herself. I remember the day after she gave birth to Sam, still exhausted, a nurse was commenting on Sam's olive complexion. “Is your husband foreign”, she asked, “Yes, he’s from Croydon” came the reply.
I have to say she had the dirtiest laugh I’ve ever heard from a woman, and she admitted it as much. Picture the scene: Olivia doing her farmyard animal noises routine and Vanessa’s raucous dirty laughter filling the garden.
She left her mark on me in many ways, I’m sure that’s true with other people here today. Some were trivial: she made me use tissues, no way was Vanessa going to wash my snotty hankies and then iron them. She got me using Chapstick, taught me how to do hospital corners, convinced me to start listening to George Michael, (at least it wasn’t Cliff Richard). It’s the little things. The big things, by no means exhaustive: she encouraged me to set up on my own when I was going wobbly on the decision, she supported me during my year at Central London Poly and of course she gave me 2 wonderful daughters, and in that last one, she completed me.
And what we had between us, whilst it didn’t always reach the giddy heights of romantic love, it was way beyond friendship.
In the last months of her life the care she received from her daughters was amazing and often quite humbling. No mother could wish for more devoted care from her children. That it was not only a reflection of Sam and Olivia’s depth of character and love for their mother, it was also a reflection of what a truly lovely mother Vanessa had been to them.
I shall miss her terribly. Sitting down with a cup of tea, discussing the girls and catching up with what was happening in our lives. And despite the inevitable hiccups and forks in the road, we were always there for each other. I feel privileged to have had such an enduring relationship, with a lady, called Vanessa. Thank you.