(Illustration: The Good Friday march)

Photo courtesy of https://www.myprimitivemethodists.org.uk/

It was in the mid-fifties, that nana and granda were given a council house in Brunton Avenue, High Howdon.

Their old house in George Street needed to be demolished, to make way for the new Tyne Tunnel, just as ours did; but they moved house before we did.

All I can remember of our great-grandmother who lived there with them, was of a lady who crouched forward in a rocking chair, by the fire, (called a ‘range’) who wore a Dutch hat with wings at either side, and who tutted at us if Joan and I touched something we shouldn’t. This was Grandma Harvey.

I was told that she had very sore arthritic knees, and would make her own foul-smelling embrocation, with which to rub her knees. She would go behind the bedroom door to do this. She made batches of it for neighbours too. (I wish she’d handed on her recipe for my sore knees now. I wonder what went into it?)

In earlier days, she and nana would rise early to mix a stone of pastry, and make meat mince pies to sell to neighbours in times of real hardship. She, nana and my mother also made ‘proggy’ mats in the attic there, the same attic where Joan wrapped a brush round and round in my hair, which they were not able to remove, without scissors! Thank you Joan.

But now that their new home was more modern, my nana wouldn’t have to wash clothes in her boiler in the back yard any more, or use a scrubbing board to attack dirty collars, or send wet clothes through a wringer to get rid of excess water. Not only that, but Granda now had two gardens (back and front) for his potatoes, his mint, rhubarb, and flowers! He was a happy bunny too!

But sadly, Grandma Harvey didn't live to see the move.

Right next door to my nana’s new home in Brunton Avenue there lived a girl called Lillian who actually saved my life one day.

Because I hated school dinners, Lilian and I would walk home together to my nana’s new house from school for our lunch. One day we decided to cross over the road, on the Gasworks bank, just up from the Addison Potter school, and I stepped out onto the road. I didn’t hear a car approaching. Lilian grabbled me, and pulled me back just in time, as the car flew past us, up towards Howdon railway station. She was my guardian angel this time!

Lilian’s dad was a giant of a man, and her mother was tiny!

If I wanted to play with Lilian in the street, I would go to her door and sing ‘Lil-ian!’ ‘Lil-ian!’ And out she came.

I remember being in her house one day, when her dad came out of the kitchen and asked if I would like some ‘dripping’ bread. Now my parents used to make ‘dipping bread’ sometimes, by dipping bread lightly in bacon fat on one side and grilling it, which was delicious, and I thought that’s what he meant. So I replied enthusiastically, “Oh yes, please!’

When the bread arrived, it was thickly cut, with cold, white dripping fat, an inch thick inside!

It looked awful, I ate a little bit and I immediately wanted to throw up.

“What do you not like about that?” said her dad, offended that I’d rejected his sandwich of thick white fat! I couldn’t bring myself to tell him exactly what I thought of his sandwich!

Lillian and I would play together outside, along, with others from houses higher up Brunton Avenue. It was there that I grew to love the street games we would play right across the road itself, which was a great playground, as not many cars came down that way; and if one did, we would scatter to let it past.

Now, let me ask you this.

Have you ever said something really hurtful to someone, which you immediately deeply regretted? I wonder how you felt at the time, and whether you were able to put things right straight away? I wonder perhaps, if you never did get the chance, or took the time to do so?

Well, I don’t know what got into me one particular day at play, for as I’ve already told you, I really was a sweet tempered, shy girl, who wouldn’t say boo to a goose, but when another friend and I had a bit of a fall out, we began to argue.

She had recently lost her mother; and in what I can only call a moment of sudden madness and cluelessness on my part, I suddenly shouted at her, that I was pleased her mother had died!

I just couldn’t believe that those words had come out of my mouth!

I think I was just as shocked as she was, and I was lost for words. I didn’t know how to take back what I had just said! I hadn’t meant it for one minute, but her face showed me the damage that I had caused her with my words. I never got the chance to apologise, as she ran into her house in tears, and didn’t play together any more, which doesn’t surprise me; she with her hurt feelings and anger, and I deep in feelings of remorse and shame, yet again.

A deep chasm opened up between us, and I couldn’t get across it. I was in the wrong, and I knew it.

I didn’t sleep very well that night, I felt terrible. It was only a matter of time, I told myself, before my nana found out about my wicked words from neighbours, and then told my mother, and they would be so ashamed of me.

This was to become a secret regret that I carried with me, like a weight tucked away in the back of my mind, for a very long time.

Years and years later, when I was in my ‘thirties’, I spotted this same friend some distance away, while we were on the annual ‘March of Christian Witness’ in Wallsend, and when I caught sight of her, that painful memory immediately rose to the surface. I felt a strong urge to go over to her, and apologise!

This ‘march’ was a Good Friday event carried out then, by nearly every Protestant church in the area. It was a coming together across all Christian denominations, to announce the Easter story in word and song. Joan and I had always attended these processions every single Good Friday, ever since we were little, wearing new cothes and new shoes which usually gave us blisters.

It was so exciting way back then then as children, to see each church congregation arriving at a central point, getting closer and closer, marching in blocks behind their church banners towards us. Then the Salvation Army would arrive to lead the way for everuone to follow them through local streets, on the road itself; and we would stop at intervals to sing hymns, and hear stories of Jesus' death and resurrection from the Bible. There would be flags, banners, brass and percussion instruments all around us. (I loved the big drum) It was such an exciting event then, and children were each given an orange at the end of it all.

However, that day, I knew I had to make amends, but the worrying thing was that I didn’t know how my friend would react, as we hadn’t spoken to each other for so many years. Would she even remember the incident? ‘Might she even unleash her fury at me, in front of everyone there on the march!’

I told myself. ‘Best over and forgotten!’

But no, it wouldn’t do. I just knew I had to apologise, so I worked my way over to her, and greeted her. She turned her head, and greeted me with a forced smile.

Believe me, the next part took some courage.

The conversation went something like this, as I spoke her name gently, and said,

“I don’t know if you remember that time when I said something very cruel to you, about your mother’s death?”

“I remember it well,” she replied.

(So those words hadn’t left her either!)

“Well I regretted those words the minute they were out of my mouth,” I told her, “and, they’ve haunted me ever since, and I want to tell you that I am so very sorry about what I said all those years ago. I didn’t mean it at all, I didn’t mean to hurt you, you were my friend, and I can’t apologise enough.”

She looked at me, I think she could see how sincerely that I meant what I said.

She replied, “Don’t think about it anymore, I forgive you! It’s in the past now!”

Oh joy!

It felt so good to receive her forgiveness, and I was so relieved to have been given a window of opportunity to approach her, and to have found the courage to speak up.

In life, it’s not so much about doing or saying wrong things, for everyone makes mistakes, and people say things they don’t mean; it’s more about how we deal with our mistakes that is important, and how much we are willing to right the wrong.

We also need to be able to forgive ourselves in the process!