This week, this Blog has generated one of its little surprises again ...! Out of the blue I received a comment from a cousin in Australia. She was enjoying reading the posts and discovering things about her Aunt (my Mum) that she hadn't known about before.
We connected on Facebook and starting chatting. Last time I saw Robyn (shown here with her mother Lyn), she was literally a baby and I a young boy - living in Johannesburg.
A lot of water has passed under the bridge since then and it was lovely to chat to a family member who had, for so long, been merely a name in a letter. A fleeting discussion around a family table.
What I found interesting was that Robyn was unaware of some of the family members, their history and families. I found myself wondering how much of the family I have 'missed' ... and what stories myself & my Mum have never heard.
So, I thought I'd put a few names & faces down. Particularly with the LUEN family - my mother's side of the family. Maybe it will generate some further commentary...
My maternal grandparents were Charles & Gladys Luen. Charles was born in Belfast and, from what I can gather, had experienced a very, very tough childhood.
As a poor, scruffy child roaming the streets of Belfast's less salubrious areas, he had been welcomed-in by the Salvation Army. They gave him some warm food, taught him to play a brass instrument ... and at one point gave him a bright red jumper with the Salvation Army logo on the front. The first new item of clothing he had ever owned!
His mother was, as I understand it, a rather hard-line Catholic. She beat him up, tore off the jumper and burned it - in her eyes it represented some sort of devil worshipping organisation!
So, he was clearly a young man with a difficult background. As soon as he was able to, he left 'the Troubles' behind him in Belfast and hot-footed it over to England.
Somehow he managed to end up in Luton, a town just North of central London (although probably considered way out in the countryside in those days..!). Here he managed to 'snare' the lovely Gladys Gurney. My grandmother was a rather mollycoddled child by all accounts. Even in her later years she would often 'take to her bed' with some malaise or other...!
She was clearly a very innocent young lady and not used to the wicked ways of the world. Of course Charles, his 'luck of the Irish' and an incredible ability to spin silvery words, like some wandering troubadour, was charming, good looking, romantic and very funny.
He was also smart - he claimed to have wooed her in the local cemetery - as it was very quiet and not frequented by many passers by! It wasn't long before there was a flurry of activity - and a wedding - and pretty soon they started on the first of what would eventually be six children.
There's was not an easy life in Luton - Charles was a 'Painter & Decorator' and they lived in a small terraced house with an outside toilet and very little to ease the difficulties of the 1930's British working-class.
With the outbreak of Word War 2, Charles signed-up and was whisked off to prepare for war. He fought in the Artillery (the 'big guns') and eventually ended-up on St. Helena.
He never really talked much about his experiences, but as a rather thoughtful, well-read and sensitive soul (self-educated - he was prone to writing poetry), it must have affected him terribly.
By this stage they had six children - Joan (shown here with he mother), Lawrence, Hazel, Olive, Michael and Robert. Sadly, Olive contracted Whooping Cough as a child and died. Life was not easy in war-torn Britain.
In getting the soldiers to St. Helena, the ship carrying Charles had docked in South Africa and he discovered a wonderful new land, full of promise and opportunity.
So, as soon as the war was over and Charles had received his papers, he decided to leave the cold and brutal post-war Britain and set off to build a new life for his family. He left them behind for a time while he found employment and set up a home.
My Mum talks about how they left England, waving farewell to grandparents, aunts & uncles (who would never see Charles & Gladys again) and the family set off on a boat to South Africa, where they ended up in the coastal town of Port Elizabeth.
The story goes that Robert, at that time a young boy, when first confronted by a banana (which he had never seen before) tried to open it by using a pencil-sharpener...!
Gives some idea of how tough their lives had been up till then.
The family settled and flourished in a much warmer climate, with (comparatively) larger homes, better food and access to paid employment. Such things were in short supply in Britain in the late 40's and 50's.
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Having said that, life could be cruel. Mum's sister Joan left school, married and was pregnant with her first child (Arthur - now lives in the USA). Her husband owned a motorcycle and, one particular week, offered Lawrence (seen here) a lift to visit a girlfriend.
She was Afrikaans and her father, like many of his generation, hated the English ('Rooinekke' - red necks) as a result of the bitterness after the Anglo-Boer War. He had tried to separate the young lovers (which he admitted he regretted afterwards).
Unfortunately a truck driver, overtaking a vehicle on the 'wrong' side of the road, was not watching the road and the resulting accident killed both men. A terrible sadness for a family - Joan losing a husband and a brother; Arthur a father he would never know.
Nonetheless, the family prospered and built a decent life for themselves. In the picture below we can see Charles & Gladys on their verandah, with son Michael and my Mum Hazel.
Mum left school in South Africa after a number of pointless years trying to master the language Afrikaans. 60 years later she is able to master some of its basics, but she was never going to need the language.
Her art training however, set her on course to work as a Commercial Artist and Window-dresser, which is where she later met my Dad (more on the inter-office shenanigans later!).
In the meantime, her elder sister re-married and entered the Salvation Army ministry. Both she and her husband William eventually reached the rank of Major and worked tirelessly running homes for boys (with family difficulties), men (who had fallen on hard times) and even a hotel in Cape Town for some years ... which catered to Salvation Army families and those they help.
To this day I am a soft-touch for the ladies with their collection tins when the Brass Band plays in town around Christmas time...!
Brother Michael, the dark-haired young buck, rocking a a bit of an Elvis look in the family photo above, followed his Dad into the Painting & Decorating trade.
Some years ago I visited Michael in Port Elizabeth where he lived for the rest of his life (sadly he passed away not that long ago). He was thrilled to catch up on old times and chat about my Mum and how she was doing in England again...!
The youngest of the bunch - and Robyn's father - was Robert (of the banana fame). It must have been really difficult for him as, being the youngest, he would have had to make much more of a change. In any event, he became a bit of a tearaway and I think his schooling suffered as a result.
He was, as I recall, a bit of a Beach Boy - surfer, sun-worshipper. In his time he has been a construction worker, a chef, a butcher, a fisherman ...... You get the picture, he was a bit of a rambling man!
When I was still very young Robert met his wife-to-be Lyn. I have vague memories of them visiting us in Cape Town (pictured here with my Mum) and Johannesburg, where he would strap young Robyn onto his back and drive out to visit us on his motorcycle, usually early on a Sunday.
He would sometimes bake fresh bread and loved our swimming pool (where I remember him dousing baby Robyn .... she learned to swim pretty quickly!).
Well, fast forward 40 years and Robert & Lyn live in deepest Australia (Geraldton I think?), his children are now all grown up and have their own children. And, I'm sure, their own stories...!
I shall endeavour to add to these stories over time - and add some of the stories from other members of the family. I'll close though, by including a telling picture from Mum's letters..... as we're discussing families - and the origin of (my own) species...!
Santa has a strange old time in London this year. We moved into our new apartment on the 2nd December, so he didn't have much chance to get organised in Ascot. 
