Inspirations & Connections | XVI. That's When Good Neighbours, Become Good Friends
An unlikely community, yet through a shared care and concern for one another, the 'widdies' were proof that even as octogenarians, good neighbours could indeed become good friends.
Welcome to Rediscover · Reconnect · Re-Emerge. If you find the fleeting changes of modern life wearisome, maybe even overwhelming, join me on a journey, a path well-trodden, as I share heartfelt and often nostalgic reflections on living slowly, simply, and in tune with the seasons.
Community, and creating a sense of community, is so important to me, and to the world. In this series, taking a particular theme, I want to share with you some of the inspirations, connections and other communities which have enriched my life, in the hope that they may do the same for you too.
Everybody needs good neighbours, something which is as true now as it was when the Australian soap opera, Neighbours, hit our UK television screens back in October 1986. In a world which is more individualistic than it once was, they are, perhaps, harder to come by. When you find them, you cherish them, and when you don’t…well, there’s not an awful lot you can do about it.
Living most of her life in relative isolation in rambling rectories and vicarages, neighbours were a new experience for my maternal grandmother, Granny, when she moved, as a widow, to Winchester in the mid-1950s. Living at No. 5 St Swithun Street, my mother still talks about their neighbours, not least Miss Fearon, whose cat was attacked by theirs, and for which the veterinary repair bill cost (if only you could hear me do the voice) “five pounds”! Then there was the eccentrically bohemian Mrs de la Force, and her equally eccentrically named boys, Tarquin and Piers. I’m sure the world would be a better place for more eccentric characters now!
Various other moves followed, including to the countryside for a time, before, in the late 1970s, Granny was offered a place at Bishop Morley College, Winchester, a terrace of eight houses opposite the cathedral, owned by the Church of England Pensions Board. She remained at No. 6 Morley College until she died there, peacefully in her sleep in 2004 at the age of 92, on the anniversary of her husband’s death who had died 52 years previously.
Each of the eight houses was occupied by another clergy widow, all shall we say, advancing in years. The beautiful houses were, with their three floors and steep staircases, completely unsuited to the residents, but nevertheless, the location was perfect, and they were, to a point, well-maintained and looked after by the Pensions Board.
Suddenly, Granny found herself with seven neighbours in this small, gated community at the heart of the city. With a beautiful big lawn, and a patch of garden each, a steady stream of tourists were to be seen taking photos at the gate of, what they saw as, a quaint relic of the city’s history. Morley College was founded as almshouses by Bishop George Morley in 1672, rebuilt in 1880, and now Grade II listed.
This group of ageing old ladies had, of course, much in common. They were all, as Granny referred to them, ‘widdies’. They had all, at some point in their life, suffered the loss of their husband. In Granny’s case, several decades had passed, but for others, it had been fairly recent. Somehow, it was through this common loss that they found community and companionship. Some of the ‘widdies’ came and went fairly swiftly, yet others were a constant; some were there before Granny moved in, and they were still there when she died.
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As with any community, it inevitably had its ups and downs. Some ladies fitted in better than others; some sought to dominate, whilst others were, quite honestly, just difficult. But nevertheless, they seemed to manage to get along, and although they lived in separate houses, the community felt warm and companionable. For Granny, there were, of course, favourites, and some of those favourite neighbours, over time, became cherished friends, something which living in a succession of vicarages and raising five children, was a relatively new experience for her in her 70s.
Whether it was entertaining Lois and Janet to tea, or enduring Rhoda’s slide show of her holiday photos from the Seychelles, glass of sherry in hand, Granny found at Morley College, something which had eluded her throughout her busy life, lived almost entirely in the service of others. It’s said that we experience a second childhood, and if the ‘widdies’ were anything to go by, this is more than true. They were proof that even when age creeps up on you, when your eyesight fails, when your hearing lets you down, and when mobility becomes a challenge, it is still possible to have fun; to laugh, to occasionally be a bit silly, and to share these adventures with others.
The ‘widdies’ not only became friends to Granny, but that friendship extended to each other’s families too. As a child growing up, they always took an interest in me, eager to hear what I’d been up to. They were excited to know which cake I might bring next, and we enjoyed entertaining them to tea in the way it should be done. It was a great joy and privilege for me to count them as friends too. Age didn’t matter.
They supported each other with collective concern, and as they grew older, they did so together. For each of them, life brought its own challenges, but in that community, there was to be found love, support and care. As the years passed, their sense of fun, their zest and zeal for life, and their interest in the world around them, remained undiminished. In many respects, this group of strong and independent women came together later in life; proof that true friendship transcends age, time and place.
The community at Morley College was, in many respects, unusual, yet through all the highs and lows of old age, and through a shared care for each other, the ‘widdies’ were proof that even as octogenarians, good neighbours could indeed become good friends.
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What beautiful memories and even nicer to write and share ✨
Lovely, I look forward to finding that community again. In the USA there are some places it still can be found. I remember with fondness how neighbors (for blocks) knew, supported, and celebrated each other and all the families intermingled for generations. Appreciate the story.