by Caroline Pearce
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11 March 2021
This year’s Mother’s Day will be a poignant one for me, the first without my mother, who passed away last September. For many years I had spoken to Mum on the phone every day. Sometimes it would be simply to catch up with family news or to tell her what I’d been doing and often, particularly after my father died, I’d call under some pretext or other but really just to see if she was ok. In the last few years of Mum’s life I started to record some of our in-person and phone conversations. At first she was self-conscious about having her voice recorded, and insisted, in her unassuming way, that she had nothing of interest to talk about. As an audio biographer I know that’s not the case – everyone has something to talk about, and someone will always be interested in hearing it. I persevered, and as a result have gathered a treasure trove of audio recordings of my mother’s voice, talking and laughing about old times with details that would otherwise have been lost. My mother was born in London 1927, spending her entire life in the Northern Line outposts of Finchley, Woodside Park and Mill Hill. In spite of her assertion that she had an ordinary life, it was always wonderful to hear about her experiences of growing up in a different era, with loving parents and three sisters to whom she was always remarkably close. After a less than stellar academic experience, she left school at fifteen in 1942 and went to work as a secretary at His Master’s Voice in Oxford Street. This was the perfect job for Mum: to be surrounded by music in her everyday life was a dream. The biggest perk of her job was that at the end of the day she was allowed use one of the listening booths, where customers could hear records before deciding whether to buy them, and she would lose herself in the music of the great jazz performers of the time, including her heartthrob Frank Sinatra, Ella Fitzgerald, and the classical giants. One story Mum liked to tell was that of Donald Luck, a soldier friend of her eldest sister, who was located overseas during the war. Mum’s duties at HMV included sending out records to young men in the armed forces, and Donald was a recipient. After the war, Mum relates, he surprised her with a visit to the store, bringing with him a banana, by way of a thank you. During wartime, a banana was a luxury rarely seen so the gift was very well received and she was delighted with it. Today’s young people would find it astonishing that such a simple gift should bring such joy. While I remind myself daily how fortunate I was to have had my mother in my life for so long, the flipside is that being without her can be all the more difficult. It is a great comfort to me to know that I can choose to listen to the recordings whenever I like, to bring her laughter into the room again, and to hear my mother’s voice. Thumbnail image: By Francis Barraud - Victor Talking Machine Company, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=1793229