Three witches

Well to be fair all the women in my Mums family were a bit mad.  Proper mad that is.  Not just peculiar.  One of them was actually certified and carried away to the loony bin in a straight-jacket.  They held grudges for decades so you very rarely saw more than 2 of them at any one tie.  So here’s a rare photo from when they were too old to remember what they’d fallen out about.  I think it was taken at my Auntie Margarets 80th birthday but as I’d fallen out with my Mum at the time I can’t be 100% sure.  They’re aw lang deid noo anyways so it disnae really matter.  From left to right, Grace Hamilton, Eva Martin and Margaret Early  – three of the Robinson sisters.

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My deid Irish mammy

So it’s Mothers Day and all that.  My mother was;

Grace Muir Robinson
1929–2008

BIRTH 25 SEP 1929 • 122 Bonnington Road, Leith
DEATH 29 MAY 2008 • Hotel Burstin, Folkestone

And here she in in her 1950’s prime on the left of the photo at a works night out.

Mumfifties

And glamming it up again.  Second on the right, with my Dad on the right.

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Gone but not forgotten.

My Mum in the Women’s Auxiliary Air Force

She was a bit too young for the war but when she was 17 my Mum, Grace Muir Hamilton nee Robinson lied about her age and tried to sign up to the Air Force.  Of course, she got found out but when my grandparents realised how keen she was they signed the forms and off she went to the Women’s Auxiliary Air Force.

And here’s a picture of my Mum when she was in the WAAFs. She’s third from right, in the back row. Looks like her and her pals were heading out from RAF Wilmslow for a night oot. Probably Blackpool. This would have been around about 1947/48.

She loved it in the WAAF but that may have be due to the fact that she seemed to spend most of her time flying around Europe to play in tennis tournaments!

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Happy birthday, Mum

Yes, my auld Irish mammy, Grace Muir Hamilton nee Robinson would have been 86 years old today.  To say we had our ups and downs would be in with a shout for biggest understatement of all time, but that doesn’t mean I don’t miss her.  Now and again!  Anyway, here she is, in her 1950s prime, auditioning to be a member of the Royal Family.

Grace Muir Robinson

Palais de Dance, Fountainbridge, Edinburgh

The Palais de Dance, Fountainbridge, Edinburgh was where my Mum & Dad met.  It was also the place my Uncle Phil punched oot a certain Tam Connery.  An amazing dancehall, according to my Mum, it was turned into a bingo hall and has been lying derelict for decades while a student housing builder tries to demolish it.  Welcome to Edinburgh and their shameful cooncil.

Palais de Dance, Fountainbridge, Edinburgh

Mentalists (or memories inspired by Twiggy)

Twiggy

Twiggy – no relation

Twiggy was on “Who Do You Think You Are” last night, and was talking about how her Mum had problems with her “nerves”.  Which is olde worlde speak for an assortment of mental disorders, something that folk didn’t talk about back then.

Which, naturally enough, got me thinking about my Mum and her family.  Before she was married, my Mum spent some time in the hospital with her “nerves”, as had her mother before her.  In fact, I’ve got a letter somewhere from my Granny to my Mum asking her to bring some bits and pieces from home while she was in the hospital.

My Mum was never hospitalised after she was married, although I remember many instances of ups and doons, and she was peculiar, to say the least, until the day she died.  Of course, any mentalism she had was overshadowed by the arch mentalist in the family, my Aunt Bette, my Mums sister.

Elizabeth Robinson (pictured left)

Elizabeth Robinson (pictured left)

As mentioned before, Bette was actually sectioned when she lived with us in the late seventies, and your official white van came to cart her away to Craighouse.  Although the van was actually grey, fact fans.  Suffice to say, the apple hasn’t fallen far from the tree in my case, not helped by my Dads family having its own share of nutters, including my Gran, who never learnt my name, despite me being forced to stay with her every Saturday night from the ages of 4 to 9.

And they wonder why I ended up the way I am!

Mum and Gran - a pair of mentalists

Mum and Gran – a pair of mentalists