Nana Mary’s Story

Hello again!  I’ve got something badly wrong with the bottom of my back!  I had an x ray last Friday and they told me I would have to wait 7-10 days for the result, but the Surgery called me this morning (Tuesday) to get me to make an appointment, so I have done.  They must have got a result.

I’m writing a new blog post, to take my mind off my pain.  I promised to tell the story of my Irish Nana.  I shared that story, last time I was at the Storytellers Club, but for people who haven’t heard it.  here it is.

My Nana’s name was Mary.  When I was born, she was already bedridden, and it was she, who taught me my prayers, and told me about God.  I always think of her as my first Christian influence.

she was Roman Catholic.  I was also brought up in that faith, but did not remain a Roman Catholic.  I think of myself as a Christian, but of no particular denomination.  Previous posts, explain my views.

But the Church was Nana’s life.  Even when she was unable to leave the house, the priest used to come once a week, and she would make confession, and receive Holy Communion.  I remember her, with her rosary beads in her slim fingers, mouthing her prayers, with the relics of her faith, all around her.

Nana came to England, from Dublin, in 1902, and within weeks of arriving in Manchester, she had met the man she was to marry.

Granddad’s name was Samuel Bradshaw.  He was crippled, because of a fall from a tree, when he was a child.  His broken leg did not set right, and never grew, so one of his legs was just half the size of an adult leg.

When he was 21 years old, he met Nana, who was walking down the street.  Because he was carrying crutches, she was not afraid, when he spoke to her.  They talked, and he asked to see her again.  She agreed, and they began to meet regularly.

It wasn’t long before they fell in-love and wanted to get married, but Nana’s parents didn’t approve.  He was disabled, he was English, and he was a Protestant, so she was forbidden to marry him, or even see him again.

Nana wasn’t having any of that!  she disobeyed her parents, and eloped with Sam.  Her future husband was a bespoke tailor, and he actually made the lovely two-piece suite, which she got married in.  He also married her in the R.C. Church, as he knew how much her faith meant to her.

He also knew that she would need her family around her, so he made the decision to convert to Catholicism, for her.  He also proved to be a good provider, so eventually, her family came round, and got to love her new husband.

Mary and Sam Bradshaw, had eight children.  The eldest boy was also named Sam.  When he grew up, he met a wonderful, down-to-Earth woman named Vera Warrington.  They married, and three years later, their eldest daughter was born.  Because Vera liked the actress, Marilyn Monroe, she called her eldest daughter Marilyn.

And here I am.  Now aged 62, writing about my family, on by blog.

There is something good, on the radio tonight, to take my mind off my bad back.  My wonderful Mika.  My favorite singer-songwriter, has another episode of his occasional radio show, The Art of Song, broadcasting tonight on BBC Radio 2.  My ears cannot wait.  The episode is about the work of Carole King.  It should be wonderful.

But I love Mika’s own work!  I think he is peerless.  Here’s one of his songs.  I sang this at a previous Storytellers night.  It’s a beautiful song called ‘Hurts’

I will post again soon