Edith Millicent Neighbour 1911 - 1998Always be a first rate version of yourself, rather than a second rate version of someone else
Edith Millicent Neighbour 1911 - 1998A child needs a grandparent, anybody's grandparent, to grow a little more securely into an unfamiliar world. ~Charles and Ann Morse
My Nan was a massive influence on my life. She was always there for me, never judging, never trying to change me, just supporting and giving of herself. Even when we lived a hundred miles apart, I always knew that if I needed her she would be there. Even my mother would say that if she needed someone to talk to or help she would go to my dad's mum rather than her own. My Nan just had that ability to make you feel comfortable, to listen and guide you towards making your own decisions rather than taking over.
Bingo was my Nan's passion. When I was at university I would visit my Nan at least once a week and she would usually take me to bingo. We would walk round the corner from the flat and stand outside the Naval College waiting for the bus that would take us up Greenwich High Street to the bingo hall. Once there, my Nan would sit there with numerous books, whilst I would have just three cards. As well as looking after her own cards, my Nan would keep a check on mine and call for me if I won. She knew how much I would have hated to shout out if I had a winning line. Nan was lucky, she was always winning things. True, she entered a lot of competitions, but she had what she called her entertainment jar. The amount of money in this jar steadily grew as she added in her winnings despite her taking money from it to pay for anything she wanted to do. Every year she made a net profit.
But it was when my father and brother were dying that my Nan really came into her own. She came and stayed with us and helped to look after them. It really can't have been easy for her as an elderly woman to watch her son and grandchild dying before her, but she never once bemoaned her fate, or muttered about life being unfair, she just got on with things as my Nan always did. I can remember coming home once and seeing my Nan clearly upset about something. When I asked her what was the matter, she said that she couldn't get my Dad to take his pain killers. When I spoke to my Dad about it, he said it was because he wanted to see how bad he really was. Somehow I managed to convince him to take them. I could not have given my Nan a better present. It is the first memory I have of being able to give my Nan something she couldn't get for herself, something that really mattered to her and I'm just a little sad that I was never able to give her more in return for all that she gave to me.
Nobody ever stood on ceremony with my Nan and I have many memories of my sister Kim teasing her. Whilst she was staying with us when Andrew was ill she would often offer to stay at home if we were going out so that there would be more room in the car. Kim would always tell her that there was no need for that as she'd managed to get hold of a skate board and a piece of rope that she'd attach to the back of the car and pull her along. Nan would screw her face up and mutter something like "cheeky mare." Over time my cousin Janette caught on, and the two of them would join together to torment her something rotten.
I used to love going to my Nan's flat and spending time there as a child and teenager. My Granddad used to have his eccentric ways and was a great hoarder. There was a room in the flat that was filled floor to ceiling with my Granddad's treasures. I say treasurers advisedly because to anyone other than my Grandfather and his grandchildren it was junk. Granddad used to work for a waste paper company and he would bring home anything that took his fancy. We would be given comics and books to read from his treasure trove. There was always something wrong with them, maybe the cover on upside down or pages not separated but it didn't matter to us. Nan however, wasn't as keen on the treasure room as Granddad and his grandchildren. Neither were his sons who would encourage him to clear it out. I will always remember how my Nan would sneak into the room when Granddad was out and throw a few of his treasures down the shute. She'd always tell me that he'd never know, that he didn't have any idea what was in there. But, without fail he knew. Sometimes he'd let her know, he knew, other times he'd just tell me that we'd let her think she'd got away with that one.
Nan was not totally anti the treasure room. She used to love reading and would rummage through the books in there to find something to engross herself in. I would often receive presents of these books when she'd finished with them, which as I love reading was always something to look forward to. Nan's presents were not always as well received by others who sometimes considered her choice of reading matter a little risque. I'm convinced that she used to present those books to them deliberately to achieve a reaction.
My Nan was an incredibly strong woman, who got on with life with a courage and determination that is rare. Life's tragedies, of which she experienced more than her fair share, never really stopped her, they just made her stronger and more determined. My Nan was the one person who really encourgaed me to be myself. Looking back with the knowledge I have from my own son's diagnosis, both my Grandfather and father were on the Autistic Spectrum. I think my Nan saw the similarities in me and knew that trying to push me to conform to somebody else's idea of what I should be was never going to work. She loved and helped all her grandchildren in a way that we will all never forget. I don't often see my cousins, but when I do we are all agreed that our Nan was a major influence on our lives.
My Nan was a massive influence on my life. She was always there for me, never judging, never trying to change me, just supporting and giving of herself. Even when we lived a hundred miles apart, I always knew that if I needed her she would be there. Even my mother would say that if she needed someone to talk to or help she would go to my dad's mum rather than her own. My Nan just had that ability to make you feel comfortable, to listen and guide you towards making your own decisions rather than taking over.
Bingo was my Nan's passion. When I was at university I would visit my Nan at least once a week and she would usually take me to bingo. We would walk round the corner from the flat and stand outside the Naval College waiting for the bus that would take us up Greenwich High Street to the bingo hall. Once there, my Nan would sit there with numerous books, whilst I would have just three cards. As well as looking after her own cards, my Nan would keep a check on mine and call for me if I won. She knew how much I would have hated to shout out if I had a winning line. Nan was lucky, she was always winning things. True, she entered a lot of competitions, but she had what she called her entertainment jar. The amount of money in this jar steadily grew as she added in her winnings despite her taking money from it to pay for anything she wanted to do. Every year she made a net profit.
But it was when my father and brother were dying that my Nan really came into her own. She came and stayed with us and helped to look after them. It really can't have been easy for her as an elderly woman to watch her son and grandchild dying before her, but she never once bemoaned her fate, or muttered about life being unfair, she just got on with things as my Nan always did. I can remember coming home once and seeing my Nan clearly upset about something. When I asked her what was the matter, she said that she couldn't get my Dad to take his pain killers. When I spoke to my Dad about it, he said it was because he wanted to see how bad he really was. Somehow I managed to convince him to take them. I could not have given my Nan a better present. It is the first memory I have of being able to give my Nan something she couldn't get for herself, something that really mattered to her and I'm just a little sad that I was never able to give her more in return for all that she gave to me.
Nobody ever stood on ceremony with my Nan and I have many memories of my sister Kim teasing her. Whilst she was staying with us when Andrew was ill she would often offer to stay at home if we were going out so that there would be more room in the car. Kim would always tell her that there was no need for that as she'd managed to get hold of a skate board and a piece of rope that she'd attach to the back of the car and pull her along. Nan would screw her face up and mutter something like "cheeky mare." Over time my cousin Janette caught on, and the two of them would join together to torment her something rotten.
I used to love going to my Nan's flat and spending time there as a child and teenager. My Granddad used to have his eccentric ways and was a great hoarder. There was a room in the flat that was filled floor to ceiling with my Granddad's treasures. I say treasurers advisedly because to anyone other than my Grandfather and his grandchildren it was junk. Granddad used to work for a waste paper company and he would bring home anything that took his fancy. We would be given comics and books to read from his treasure trove. There was always something wrong with them, maybe the cover on upside down or pages not separated but it didn't matter to us. Nan however, wasn't as keen on the treasure room as Granddad and his grandchildren. Neither were his sons who would encourage him to clear it out. I will always remember how my Nan would sneak into the room when Granddad was out and throw a few of his treasures down the shute. She'd always tell me that he'd never know, that he didn't have any idea what was in there. But, without fail he knew. Sometimes he'd let her know, he knew, other times he'd just tell me that we'd let her think she'd got away with that one.
Nan was not totally anti the treasure room. She used to love reading and would rummage through the books in there to find something to engross herself in. I would often receive presents of these books when she'd finished with them, which as I love reading was always something to look forward to. Nan's presents were not always as well received by others who sometimes considered her choice of reading matter a little risque. I'm convinced that she used to present those books to them deliberately to achieve a reaction.
My Nan was an incredibly strong woman, who got on with life with a courage and determination that is rare. Life's tragedies, of which she experienced more than her fair share, never really stopped her, they just made her stronger and more determined. My Nan was the one person who really encourgaed me to be myself. Looking back with the knowledge I have from my own son's diagnosis, both my Grandfather and father were on the Autistic Spectrum. I think my Nan saw the similarities in me and knew that trying to push me to conform to somebody else's idea of what I should be was never going to work. She loved and helped all her grandchildren in a way that we will all never forget. I don't often see my cousins, but when I do we are all agreed that our Nan was a major influence on our lives.
Origins of the name "Neighbour"
Surname: Neighbour
This very unusual and interesting name is of early medieval English origin, and derives from the Middle English term "nechebure", a compound of the Olde English pre 7th Century "neah", near, and "gebur", dweller, from "bur", a small dwelling or building. As a surname the term may have developed from a nickname for someone who was thought to be a "good neighbour", but it is more likely to derive from the common use of the word as a term of address. The surname development includes the following: William le Neybere (1309, Bedfordshire), and Bartholomew Neighbour (1327, Essex). The modern surname can be found as Neighbour and Naybour. Among the recordings of the name in London are those of the christening of John Neighbour, at the Church of St. Bartholomew the Great, on December 5th 1619, and the marriage of William Neighbour and Elizabeth Ward at the Chruch of St. Bride's, Fleet Street, on June 21st 1678. The first recorded spelling of the family name is shown to be that of Ralph Nechebur, which was dated 1222, in the "Domesday of St. Paul's, Hertfordshire", during the reign of King Henry 111, known as "The Frenchman", 1216 - 1272. Surnames became necessary when governments introduced personal taxation. In England this was known as Poll Tax. Throughout the centuries, surnames in every country have continued to "develop" often leading to astonishing variants of the original spelling.Recent Videos
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