Illustration: A  collage of our wedding 

We were married in August that following year, in 1970, before my third year at college, and Joan was married, to a friend of Bob’s, called Alan Dotchin, in the October, that same year.

Bob and I had introduced them to each other!

Alan, who lived in Alnwick, had come down to Wallsend for a meeting with Bob, as he was about to start a job in the PE department at Burnside High School. He was staying the night at Bob’s parents’ home, and ended up coming with Bob, Joan and me for a night out. When Bob asked if he wanted to come along, as my sister would be there too, he asked to see a photograph of her first. She obviously passed the test! And that was it!

He and Joan both fell for each other straight away, and the rest is history! They were perfect for each other!

My mam, now a widow, felt it keenly the summer of our weddings, that she was going from ‘four down to one’ in her home, and so she was. But in fact, Joan and Alan were going to be nearby now in a rented flat, once they were married, and since I didn’t need to live in college anymore, Bob and I were planning to live close at hand too.

So my mother had two daughters living within a mile of her; not like some, whose children go off to college or to other places for employment, and settle elsewhere in the country or even abroad.

So these weddings actually worked in her favour, and we were never far away. She appreciated this.

Mam was also well supported by nana, who lived just around the corner. Mam had gone to work at the Probation Office in Wallsend, and got on well with Biridget, a probation officer. Bridget's mother was a genuine ‘lady’ and lived at a local country home. Bridget and mam often went on day trips. One weekend they went to London, and mam was greatly amused at the way Bridget would park her car, wherever and whenever she wanted to, in the heart of the city, and simply pay the fines later.

When they visited Westminster Abbey together, a steward informed them they could not enter, as a service was about to begin, and the seats were full; to which Bridget replied haughtily, “Is there no room in the choir stalls?”

The steward immediately guided them right up to seats next the altar, alongside the choir! Mam, being a Methodist, wasn't quite sure how to follow Anglican practice, so was horrified to find herself first in line, to receive communion at the high altar.

She was always highly entertained with Bridget’s antics.

Mam also met up with another lady, called Joan, who was also a widow. It was good to see the two of them going out and live a life again. It was this friendship, which led to my mam meeting her second husband, whom she married later in 1974. His name was Bob Bell, and he seemed really smitten with mam, and they ended up really good companions. After their marriage they enjoyed many holidays abroad together, and nights out with good friends.

Our own wedding was a whirl of excitement from start to finish. I invited my Uncle Bob, mam’s brother, to ‘give me away’ in my dad’s place, and I well recall the advice he gave me that day.

He said, “Don’t wish this day away, or be eager for the next moment, just live each minute as it comes, really enjoy your whole day, and you’ll be able to look back on lovely memories." He was so delighted to have been invited to perform this special role.

With me being a student, and mam a widow, it was a wedding on a tight budget, but nevertheless a beautiful one. I found my dress in the Evening Chronicle ‘wanted ads’ column; Joan’s bridesmaid’s dress was made by a local seamstress in the same style as my dress; mine was white and hers was a deep fuchsia pink. Our bouquets, the buttonholes and the cake, were made by two neighbours, one a florist, one a school cook, and they were amazing.

As Bob was preparing to leave his house for church, so he told me later, his mam had commented, “That collar looks rather big for you!” That was completely the wrong thing to say to him! And, judging by the look on his face, she suddenly knew it.

But there is no feeling quite like it, to walk down the aisle, and see your future husband standing there, albeit in his big collar, watching you, and waiting for you at the altar steps.

When I reached Bob, nervous though I was, he put me straight at ease with that lovely smile of his, and whispered, “You’re nice, what’s your name?”

“I now pronounce you husband and wife!” proclaimed the minister after our vows were said, and from that moment, we were one. I felt it to be so immediately, and I really couldn’t have waited a moment longer for it to be so! 

As we drove away from High Howdon Methodist Church, Bob tossed coins out of the car window to local children, for the traditional ‘Hoy oot!’ 

My dad would have been so proud of us all, and the thought of just how proud tinged the day with a certain sadness, particularly when Mr Chisholm, our former Sunday school teacher and family friend, voiced such sentiments during his speech at our reception, which was held in the ‘Orchid Suite’ at the Grand Hotel, Tynemouth. and being there with everyone we knew and loved, was wonderful.

It began to rain just as we were leaving the hotel for our honeymoon, and my mam’s car, on loan to us for the week, was decorated with tin cans, coloured tissue streamers and shaving foam, and as Bob went to free the windscreen of wet streamers, they wrapped themselves around his white cuff. We never did get the red dye out, so we didn’t have to worry about that large collar anymore, the shirt was a write-off.

We drove off once we had said our goodbyes to our parents and guests, and everyone cheered and waved us away, but we stopped just around the corner to remove the noisy tin cans.

It was said that we missed wonderful parties that night. Svein, Bob’s Norwegian friend, whom he met at his first year at the camp at Bellingham, had performed a mock striptease wearing Harriet’s clothes to everyone's amusement. He had made it to the wedding, just on time, the day before, on his motor bike, wearing torn jeans. He was hastily rushed off to Newcastle for proper attire! The party at mam's house, attended by close family and neighbours was full of laughter and happy memories. 

Our honeymoon was to be spent in a friend’s static caravan at Rothbury, Northumberland, but we stopped off in Morpeth first, where Bob’s ‘old’ Aunt Harriet was in hospital, and we went in to visit her and show her my wedding ring.

I already knew her by then, and we got on well. She looked very sweet, sitting by her bed; her face, even though very wrinkled, was so beautiful. Judging from old photos, she had been a truly elegant lady in her time. Her first husband, an army sergeant, had sadly died with malaria in Dar es Salaam, during the First World War.

She took my hand and she kissed my ring, and gave us her blessing.

Her ‘beatific’ smile lasted but a few moments, as she noticed another patient walking down the ward dressed in nothing, but a very short vest! Aunt Harriet was incensed, and she yelled at her to get herself dressed! It was a good job that Bob had his back to the ‘offender’, and didn’t see what I saw!

It was almost dark when we reached the campsite, and we had difficulty at first finding the right caravan. My white shoes were covered in mud, and we both stumbled soaked into the van.

When I opened my suitcase, tons of confetti spilled out! Fun for some! What a mess there was, but we didn’t mind. We had each other to love and to cherish from now on, ‘till death do us part.’ We didn’t waste time tidying up, that could wait until the morning. We had better things to do.

We woke at three o’ clock that first night, and we decided to have a snack. I’d packed a chocolate cake that I’d made, so we thought we would have some with a glass of milk, but it was pitch black inside that bedroom, and we couldn’t see one another at all.

We knew there was a gas mantle somewhere above us, but we hadn’t even checked to see where the matches were kept. Bob found a box of what he thought was matches above our heads on the shelf, and he opened the box carefully.

That’s when I stared to scream! The box he had opened was upside down, and these weren’t matches falling around me, all over ‘my all togetherness’, they were pins and needles! The owner of the caravan was a seamstress!

I couldn’t move a muscle without being pricked all over with pins! Eventually I was rescued, but not until Bob located the real box of matches, lit the gas mantle, and picked all the pins up!

It reminds me of the Searchers hit 1963 song, ‘Needles and Pinsa’

I’m so pleased it wasn’t an expensive honeymoon, as it would have been a complete waste of money; we spent the entire week, inside the van, enjoying each other’s company somewhat. My cooking was not great at that time, apart from skills learned in Domestic Science at school, but we managed. I had taken along some Vesta ‘ready to make’ meals, Chicken Chow Mein, with crispy noodles was our favourite, (how I used to love seeing those noodles expand in the hot fat!) but you can’t live on that kind of meal forever.

But what a truly memorable week we had.

Some months later, Bob’s mam, who had promised to look after his suitcase for him, to guard it against mischief makers, asked what he thought of the pyjama bottoms she’d put in the suitcase for him. When he looked puzzled, and told her he didn’t know what she meant, the truth dawned on her, and she suddenly exclaimed in a shocked voice, “Our Bobby!”

She had sewn up the trouser legs, so that he wouldn’t be able to put them on, and neither of us had realised.

So, my final year at college was as a married student travelling in. My mam kindly allowed me to drive her car in for lectures that year, and it meant I could be based at home, and be able to do my studying there, while Bob was teaching. I returned the car to her each time there was a lecture, in time for her finishing work at the Probation Office. It was so kind and generous of her to let me use it. This simple arrangement worked well all round, mind you the travelling in for each lecture was sometimes a bit of a rush, but I loved being there for Bob coming home to me each teatime.

Our house then, before we rset to work on it, had been a fairly ‘run down’ flat in the centre of Wallsend, but after we decorated it ourselves, and fitted it with carpets, it looked splendid. Our furniture was mostly second hand, which we bought from one of Bob’s neighbours who was emigrating to Australia. Good old Mrs Leck! Other pieces of furniture was kindly donated to us by friends.

I remember the kitchen being quite damp, and the kitchen walls were crumbling in places, but we did our best to solve that problem; yet still on occasion, we would have to remove slugs from the floor or walls on a morning, and throw them away outside. I don’t like slugs!

Also the fact the flat had an outdoor toilet, served to remind us of our roots, but we were so happy to be together.

That final year at college flew past, and my exams went well, and I was given a distinction in practical teaching after my final teaching practice, at a school in Low Fell, in Kells Lane!

It was there that I met a wonderful Christian, called Norma Minto, who was just a few years older than me. She helped revive my faith ‘a little’, with her enthusiasm, her friendliness and her own deep faith. 

She cared a lot about the children at school and she and her husband Derek, devoted a lot of their time to a huge teenage outreach programme at their Methodist church.

She inspired me, as a student, there’s no doubt about it, and besides, we had so much in common. We both sang and played guitar in those school assemblies together, and she was such a joy to be with, and to chat to.

Years later, when my own faith was renewed in 1973, I shared my ‘Holy Spirit’ experience with her, and she was so excited about what had happened to me; for it was what she had been searching for too, deep down, and she and her husband Derek embraced the same experience totally themselves.

I was greatly saddened when, some years later, Norma died as a result of a brain tumour. She was in her early forties by then. I still don’t understand, this side of heaven, why the good die young; but she and Derek had something really special together as husband and wife, in their spirituality and their unwavering faith in God, despite her terrible illness!