There are surely neither enough words nor enough time to begin to describe dear Mary, let alone to do her justice. We all knew her as a genuine one-off, for whom even those over-used words “personality”, “character” and “larger than life” are inadequate.
For me she’s been a vital part of the Chapter House family for over 20 years, from which the anecdotes are legion, but today perhaps the best thing I can do is read just some of the many things her friends have said about her on the news of her passing - which nicely hint at the huge range of her activities:
- What a wonderful person, cheerful, humorous, creative, kind - good soup too.
- She was wonderful, a friend to everyone and much loved by all who met her.
- Always positive, enthusiastic and uncomplaining - and what a cultural and craft contribution she made.
- Such a lovely lady - the first thing she did when I met her was to give me a cup of tea and a huge chunk of gorgeous cake.
- A lovely lady, a great source of support and assistance in all aspects of local heritage, and with such humour and generosity.
- Without her tireless children’s block printing, fabulous catering, devoted friendship, irrepressible humour, and general energy and bonhomie the Chapter House will never be the same again.
- Never forgot a birthday or a festival, with marvellous cards and gifts. And those wonderful sweaters!
- A great supporter and volunteer - and a marmalade world champion!
- Her knowledge, enthusiasm and dedication were legendary, as were her wonderful cakes and buffets.
And last but not at all least:
- She was quite a lady!
Don’t these all show what great affection she was held in by so many people, how many things she did, how much she cared and how much she’ll be missed.
With her dramatic hat on I know she’d approve one’s turning to Shakespeare at these moments, who had a way of celebrating magnificent women. Throughout these past many years she of all people thoroughly deserved that wonderful compliment paid to Cleopatra: “Age cannot wither her, nor custom stale her infinite variety”. And now, after such a positive Tempest of a life, Prospero’s closing words come to mind too: “Our revels are now ended - we are such stuff as dreams are made on, and our little life is rounded with a sleep.”
But, because she’s done so much to enrich our lives, and leaves such a legacy of happy memories, perhaps Wordsworth should have the last word:
“What though the radiance that was once so bright,
Be now forever taken from our sight;
Though nothing can bring back the hour
Of splendour in the grass, of glory in the flower;
We will grieve not, rather find
Strength in what remains behind.”