The Petty Family Tree
Richard Petty
Died: died 1673
Married to: Anne Brigg
Christopher Petty
Born: 1659
Married to: Jane
Richard Petty
Born: 1692
Married to: Mary Sharp
Richard & Mary Sharp Children
Anthony Petty 1716-1778
Married to: Mary Lund
Jane Petty 1718
Abraham Petty 1720
Hannah Petty 1724
Richard Petty 1727
Mary Petty 1729
Grace Petty 1732
Anthony & Mary Lund Children
Christopher Petty 1744
Married to: Martha
Richard Petty 1746
Hannah Petty 1748
Abraham Petty 1750
Married to: Keziah
Anthony Petty 1752
Mary Petty 1754
Married to: John Grace
Joseph Petty 1756
Married to: Judith Sarah
Sarah Petty 1758
Grace Petty 1760
Jacob Petty 1762
Christopher Petty & Martha Children
John Petty
Born and Died 1769
Richard Petty 1771
Married to: Grace Green
Joshua Petty 1773
Married to: Martha Dale
Abraham Petty & Keziah Children
Ann Petty 17??
Joseph Petty & Judith Children
Elizabeth Petty 1781
Mary Petty 1783
Judith Petty 1788
Joshua Petty & Martha Dale Children
James Petty 1799
Married to: Ellen Cowgill
Richard Petty 1801
Married to: Margaret Cryer
James & Ellen Cowgill Children
Christopher Petty 1821
Richard Petty 1822
Married to: Elizabeth Hartley
Joshua Petty 1824
Thomas Petty 1827
Married to: Mary Binns
Martha Petty 1829
Married to: William Brayshaw
Jonas Petty 1833
Married to: Ruth Greenwood
Susannah Petty 1837
Married to: James Bottomley
Thomas & Mary Binns Children
Robert Petty 18??
Martha Petty 18??
Married to: Ellen
James Petty 18??
Married to: Elizabeth Thornton
Priscilla Petty 18??
Elizabeth Petty 18??
Married to: Richard P Wilson
Hannah Petty 18??
Joshua Petty
1865-1952
Clara Petty 18??
Theresa Petty 18??
James & Elizabeth Thornton Children
George Petty 18??
Joshua & Maria Bates Children
Bernard Petty 1890
Wilfrid Petty 1892
Alan Petty 1898
Thomas Herbert 1902
Married to: Myfanwy James
Hilda Petty 1902
Twin To Thomas Herbert
Reginald Petty 1907
Married to: Joan Dixon
Bernard & May Children
Albert Sidney 1919
Married to: Kathleen
Geoffrey Roy 1927
Married to: Betty
Jean Margaret 1930
Geoffrey Roy & Betty Children
David Bernard 1955
Married to: Sally
Born: 1959
Jane Lesley 1959
Married to: Graham Halls
Elizabeth Claire 1964
Married to: Michael Fradd
Jane Lesley & Graham Halls Children
Thomas Graham 1985
Claire Louise 1987
Michael Arthur 1989
Elizabeth & Michael Children
Oliver 2001
Emily Jane 2007
Wilfrid & Margaret Midgeley Children
Brian Wilfrid 1927
Barbara Mary 1932
Brian Wilfrid & Ann Sutcliffe Children
Jonathan Wilfrid 1969
Married to: Cheryl Alder 2017
Joanne Elizabeth 1971
Partner: Craig Mitchell
Jonathan Wilfred & Cheryl Alder Children
William 2016
Joanne Elizabeth & Craig Mitchell Children
Holly 2008
Murray 2010
Alan & Jessie Thomas Children
Alan John 1931
Married to: Muriel (1932-2008)
Victor Noel 1933
Alan John & Muriel Children
Andrew David 1963
Married to: Lesley
Jane 1964
Married to: Tim Wilson
Married to: Barry Hibbert
Susan 1966
Married to: Nigel Taylor
Andrew David & Lesley Children
Georgina 1999
Jane & Barry Hibbert Children
Daniel 1998
Rachel 2000
Louise 2002
Susan & Nigel Taylor Children
Ben 1993
Sophie 1996
Lucy 1998
Victor Noel & Molly Kane Children
Christopher Blaise 1960
Married to: Ann Vaughan
Giles Dominic Richard 1962
Married to: Angeles Orio
Christopher Blaise & Ann Vaughan Children
Tom 1993
Giles Dominic Richard & Angeles Orio Children
Eric 2004
Ian 2006
Thomas Herbert & Myfanwy James Children
Kenneth James 1931
Married to: Audrey Doris
Born: 1931
Hilda May 1935
Married to: David Michael Lester
Born: 1936
Kenneth James & Audrey Doris Children
Alison Audrey 1961
Stephen James 1970
Married to: Andrea
Stephen James & Andrea Children
Gemma Jade 2000
James Robert 2003
Hilda May & David Michael Lester Children
Maria 1965
Married to: Robert
Victoria 1968
Married to: Shaun Barton
Born:1968
Victoria & Shaun Barton Children
Lauren 1997
Samuel Joshua 1999
Sophie 2002
Reginald & Joan Dixon Children
Richard Neville 1946 - 1984
Married to: Rosemary Cragg
Robert Anthony 1950
Married to: Sian Davies
Katherine Anne 1954
Richard Neville & Rosemary Cragg Children
Alastair James 1974
Juliet Elizabeth 1977
Robert Anthony & Sian Davies Children
Catrin Helen 1987
Rhian Jane 1988
Noel Petty story
He was a very small man, not more than five feet, I’d say. I have often marvelled at how we went from that to my six-feet-plus sons in three leaps. I don’t imagine he was starved of protein in youth but it must be that, I suppose. He certainly had plenty of flesh elsewhere, and was rather spherical in shape. He was always formally dressed – dark suit with waistcoat and gold albert, and a high stiffly starched collar right to the end of this life. I remember him coming down to breakfast when he was staying with us in the fifties, fully dressed but with his neck speckled with red nicks from his tussle with a cutthroat razor. But he was not in any sense a dandy, and I recall him telling me with deep scorn of an acquaintance who gave up smoking a pipe because carrying it ‘ruined his shape.’ His own pipe was always with him.
He was a great reader and had to be kept supplied. He was particularly fond of Arnold Bennett, I remember. I used to go to the library for him; his only specification was that the books should be clean (physically, that is) and contain ‘not too many foreign names.’
There was a curious incident which I can date pretty accurately to 1940-41. My Mum was attending to my Thomas Grannie and had taken me with her. I had spent the morning creating a little magazine (I would have been 6 or 7) and decided that Grandpa and Grandma Petty should be shown it, so promptly set off without telling anybody. This involved going down into the centre of town and up the Oakworth road at the other side, perhaps a mile and a half. I arrived at Grandpa’s and they were quite clearly taken aback, having no idea what to do with me. No telephones, of course. Eventually they decided that it would be a safe move to feed me, and gave me a bowl of tinned grapefruit. I then took my leave and walked back to Grannie Thomas’s. I must have been away for two or three hours, but nobody winked an eyelid. Innocent days!
My last remaining anecdote was from his very late years. Apparently, he had never been to a proper cinema and Reg decided to take him. It was a continuous performance and they had to follow the usherette’s torch in the dark. As they descended, Grandpa remarked very loudly (he was fairly deaf) and in a sepulchral tone ‘Down into the bottomless pit!’, which startled the audience and embarrassed Reg.
I have never heard anything about Joshua being apprenticed to a tailor or training as a teacher in Edinburgh. What I ‘knew’ was that he finished school in Keighley at 14 (as was the law) and stayed on as a pupil-teacher (an institution that was still on the go fifty years later) until he was deemed worthy to join the staff. He then rose through the ranks to become head teacher of Holycroft School at Keighley until he retired. I don’t know where I had that from; do you know where yours came from? Did they even have teacher training colleges in the 1880s? Of course, both versions may be true – that is, he may have trained after his pupil teacher period, but it’s difficult to fit the tailoring in.
We (i.e. Alan’s family) saw a good deal of Joshua and Maria. My first memories of them date to 1939-45, when we walked (by inflexible duty bound) to their house every Sunday for teatime and into the evening. Roy and Jean were living there (they were brought up by grandparents for a period after Bernard’s first wife died) and we little ones would climb up into the attic to play while the elders droned on about Keighley society. Afterwards we would walk back home in the pitch blackness because of the blackout regulations.
I believe Bernard once went out for the evening and on coming back felt for the gate, missed it, and fell, breaking his ankle. While he was out, the gate had been removed and taken away, supposedly to make Spitfires.
Some years after the war, and after Maria’s death, Joshua went on tour, spending a few months with each son in turn. I can still see him, occupying the best chair, and greeting Alan as he come in from work with, “Owt fresh?”, the Yorkshire version of “What news on the Rialto?” That would be about 1954.
Two stories he told me remain in memory. The first relates to a Yorkshire cricket match against Gloucester at Harrogate in the 1880s. As was customary, the great W G Grace strolled out before the match with his bat and invited anyone in the crowd to ‘Throw me a few up”, which Grandpa did. After several attempts, he got one past him, whereupon Grace cried, “You’ve bowled me, lad!” I doubt whether either of them was deceived.
The second concerned Joshua being selected to represent Keighley’s Methodist Church at a conference in Manchester. Joshua, never having been in a city before, got lost and eventually ended up in a theatre where Gilbert and Sullivan was playing. It seemed to have been a conversion to pure pleasure, and as he said, he never looked back after that.
Maria Bates
I remember her as a slightly querulous being, bowed down under the weight of Grandpa and five large sons. She did not take much notice of her grandchildren, couldn’t tell them apart really, and used to go through the gamut of names hoping to hit the right one sooner or later. My only memory of direct contact was once when I was perhaps ten, and was curled up reading in a chair as she hobbled past. She paused, delivered a sharp slap across my bare knees, and said, “Lovely fat legs!” I maintained a dignified silence.
Noel Petty story
Do we know when/how the Pettys moved to Keighley from Sutton? My guess is it was ‘Old Tom’, grandpa’s father, who made the move – he was reputed to be a live wire and would want his children to be close to the Grammar School.
Robert Petty story
I really have virtually no impression of Maria (my grandmother who dies before I was born) and very vague ones of Joshua, though my dad did talk about him quite a lot (her hardly at all), wondering how it was that, having left school and taken an apprenticeship as a tailor (I can imagine him, Dickens-style, cross-legged on a bench) he somehow managed to fund a teaching certificate in Edinburgh and return to Keighley to teach a class of horrific numbers of children… 50+?
Alastair Petty story
(Alastair has provided a copy of Joshua’s Certificate from Moray House Training College, Edinburgh, which Joshua attended for two years in 1890 and 1891).
Noel Petty story
Bernard was a bit of a mystery. He was unlike his brothers in so many ways. They were all fairly small (Grandpa could not have been much more than five feet) but Bernard seemed huge. He was somewhat ungainly with large feet and a ponderous stride. I used to see him on his frequent missions to Keighley Public Library with an armful of books. He must have been a voracious reader.
He had limited use of one arm after a bullet wound in the war. I saw him with sleeves rolled up just once and the cavity in the forearm was very shudder-worthy. He was a pipe-smoker, and would make a great production of filling his pipe with that terribly deformed wrist.
When I was young, I saw him often, but not to acknowledge, because he was actually Deputy Head of the upper half of the school of which my junior school was the lower half. He had had a problematic history, having trained as a teacher and settled into a school in, I believe, Chapel-en-le-Frith, but then lost his first wife, leaving him with three young children. I heard whispers of a ‘breakdown’. I know nothing more of that, but the family returned to Keighley to live with Grandpa. We used to visit Grandpa and Grandma every Sunday afternoon in the 1940s and eventually a ‘Miss Clark’ was often of the company. I couldn’t imagine what she was doing there, but all was made clear when she became our Aunt Sally, bravely retaining that name.
Robert Petty story
When I was a little boy, on occasional Sunday afternoons, we’d go over to my Uncle Bernard’s house, on Ashleigh Street, for tea. I hated this because he was deaf, so I never really had proper contact with him… and the bone that stuck out of his wrist (the result of a badly-managed attempt to correct a war wound) gave me the creeps. We were all in his front room on a November Sunday, over-hot because of the strength of his Baxi fire, grown-ups sitting on sofas and armchairs, me lying on the sheepskin rug in front of the fireplace. “Shall we put the TV on?” Bernard suggested. It was Armistice Day, it turned out, and he was keen to watch the ceremony from (I think) the Albert Hall. For HOURS (it seemed to me) soldiers ran across the performance space… assembled some large weapon of warfare, saluted, and ran off… marched across with their mascot goat… threw up a barrier, climbed over it, dismantled it and disappeared. It was SOOO boring and, over-hot on the hearth rug, my groans and moans of irritation got increasingly loud… until my mum gave me a kick. I turned in outrage – Why do we have to watch this??? – and I immediately saw, sitting next to her, Bernard… tears pouring down his cheeks. I had no idea what this was all about… but I knew I’d misbehaved and that I’d better button it from then on.
Later, I learned that Bernard came home from WWI as an invalid (bone graft from arm to leg having failed). His regular habit was to limp up to the newsagent, buy a newspaper and sit on the bench outside the newsagent and read up on progress in the war. Sitting there, in his suit, there was no sign of injury. And one day, when he was reading his paper, a woman sneaked up, pinned a white.feather to his lapel, and ran off. Labelled a coward!… he limped home and hardly left his house till the end of the war.
John Petty story
I used to walk down to Bernard’s weekly for extra tuition in maths for the upcoming School Certificate examination. It was a journey well worth making as maths was the only subject in which I was awarded a distinction. Oddly enough to this day I have no recollection of his being deaf.
Noel Petty story
Wilf on the Left, with brother Alan
Uncle Wilf was a very sharp sort of man, possibly the cleverest of the five. At any rate, he didn’t mind one thinking so, and was curiously proud of his prowess in Latin at matriculation. I think he was a bit jealous of Reg’s opportunities, while being proud of his own achievements in business.
He had been obliged to start work at fifteen at an engineering business (Millet’s, I think, in Keighley) but then served in the army from 1914 until the end of the war. He was still living at Riddlesden when I was small, but must have moved to Dudley just before the 1939 war. What he had done to get the job of Manager of the large CWS ironworks I don’t know, but no doubt the commission and the decorations would have done no harm.
He seems to have been close to my Dad, for they corresponded weekly throughout the war and later. My Dad used to send him the score card of the Keighley cricket match. The letters were always signed off with’ KBO’. I pestered my Dad to know the meaning of this until he finally gave in and told me it was ‘Keep Buggering On’. They both liked to play the stage Yorkshireman, I think.
We visited him at Dudley after the war. For me a huge attraction was his Pianola, a mechanical piano in which one loaded a piano roll and pedalled away to play the music. I had to be dragged away from it when we left. He was very no-nonsense and liked things to be tidy: on my seventeenth birthday he sent me a razor and a letter making it clear that I was now grown up and no further presents would be forthcoming.
John Petty story
I think I was about nine years old when we hired a car and went for a holiday in Pembrokeshire. In those pre-motorway days, it was obviously out of the question to drive all the way from Bradford to South Wales in a single day, so we broke the journey in Dudley, stopping overnight with my Uncle Wilf and Auntie Margaret.
In those days the house was immaculate. The garden was a riot of colour and I remember my dad praising Wilf for it. “It’s not what I planned when I planted up my seed-trays,” Wilf said. “All winter I’d saved the ash from the grate, and when I planted out the garden I spread it all over them. Killed the lot! I had to go and buy all these as seedlings or it’d’ve been completely bare.”
Noel Petty story
Alan on the Right, with brother Wilf
I don’t know if you would like me to have a go at Alan, but an ‘impression’ would be a bit difficult when my life was so close in multiple details. Suffice it to say that he was self-contradictory in many ways. For instance, it is hard to reconcile his later life as a bank official with the youth who wanted to be an artist or the one who enlisted in the Durham Light Infantry, and then volunteered to transfer into the Royal Flying Corps and pilot the rickety machines of those days. And his desire to be involved on stage in the musical theatre doesn’t quite seem to fit with the rather diffident man we saw at home.
John Petty story about Jessie
Jessie was born in Lancashire in 1899, one of six children to William Henry and Anne Eliza Thomas. William was a gardener with ambition and the family moved house several times as he obtained positions on private estates. He came to Keighley as head gardener at Cliff Castle estate living in the ‘tied cottage’ overlooking the kitchen garden.
It was a family tragedy when, after some years, he died, aged 46. The family had to leave the accommodation and all the children had to find work. Jessie, aged 16, worked as an apprentice seamstress at Marshall and Snelgrove in Leeds instead of her wish for further education. Later she became a telephone operator at the new exchange in Keighley. She met Alan at All Saints Church in Keighley and they were married in 1926.
Robert Petty story about Jessie
Jessie was my god-mother… and I loved her! Throughout my teenage years, each summer, I would ensure I visited her. I’d get the bus to Keighley – this seemed quite an adventure in my early teens – and walk up the steep hill to her house. She’d have cooked a lunch and we’d eat and chat.
I can’t pretend it was a completely relaxed conversation, but I loved being with her so much, the pauses didn’t matter at all. She was the first adult to treat me as an equal: she was so open about her views and seemed interested in mine. Drugs: “I think I’d have been tempted if they were around when I was young”; the miners: “They deserve very penny they get – I’d hate to be down a mine.” I grew up in her company.
Final confirmation of her gloriousness: when she met Sian at an early stage in our relationship, she told me I’d got “a smasher”.
Noel Petty story
Tom was not really known to us, since he had left Keighley before I was born, or at least before I was aware. I don’t think I met him until the early part of the War, when he brought Ken and Hilda up to be evacuees. We had Ken; I don’t know who had Hilda.
Uncle Tom seemed to have adopted some London characteristics: he moved quickly, spoke quickly and had a hybrid accent. He was not called up, presumably because as an engineer with the London Electricity Board, he was in an essential occupation. But he had a gruesome-looking war wound in the shape of a shin damaged by shrapnel from the blitz.
The evacuees didn’t stay very long, probably less than a year. We saw him a few times after the war, when My Dad drove us all up to London in his old Standard 9, which did not exceed 45mph. I called on him once in later years when I was in London overnight, and he and Auntie Mav were most welcoming. Among his brothers, as a boy he had the reputation of always being the one who arrived home filthy, with clothes torn and cap missing, ‘looking like nobody’s child’.
Noel Petty story
Reg (extreme Left) as part of Wadham College Cricket Team,
Uncle Reg was the uncle I saw most of, since he remained at hand. Moreover, when he had no family, he took a particular interest in John and me. When I was about nine, I found a battered copy of Lorna Doone in our store room and began to read it (we didn’t have many books). Unknown to me, my Dad had a bet with Reg that I wouldn’t finish it, but I did. He could always be relied upon to send a well-chosen book for Christmas, birthdays etc.
In the post-war forties he several times took me to watch Yorkshire cricket matches at Park Avenue and it was there that he introduced me to the joys of the Guardian cryptic crossword puzzle. He came to represent for me a quality I thought of as the civilised life, by which I suppose I meant something like bookishness, scholarship, learning. He had a real influence on me, and if I am allowed to have a favourite uncle, it would certainly be Reg. I think he would have liked me to be a teacher, and was a trifle disappointed when I veered off into industry.
He had a mild speech impediment, but it was well under control and he was a lively and witty talker. In later years I used to drop in on him and Joan on Sundays when I had been visiting Keighley, and he was always courteous, interested and welcoming.
Winifred Joan, née Dixon (wife of Reginald)
born in Calcutta, 1918
Robert Petty and Jo Petty story
I asked Jo about “Petty Patches” – as far as I was concerned, a family rumour. The story I knew is that Brian, in the Navy, discovered some bits of land that had never previously been recognised, and they were then formally named “Petty Patches”. Is this true? I asked her. And, if so, where are they? And it turns out that she had the same story as me… and then did some research and found “Petty Patches” on Google Maps.
It’s described as a reef. I think that’s a step up from a sand bank!
Christopher Petty’s eulogy
Victor Noel Petty was the youngest son of Alan and Jessie Petty and has an older brother John. His earliest memory was being taken into the garden to see the Hindenburg Airship overhead – some said it actually scraped the chimneys in passing! He also remembered “digging for Victory” when his father turned their small garden to food production, including chickens. When one became ill, official instructions were followed, the chicken’s neck broken and the body sent off to The Ministry of Food. A brief reply was received a few weeks later saying, “This chicken died of a broken neck”!
As children before the war, John and Noel had an old leather football that was punctured. Rather than throw it away, the boys filled it with soil and left it invitingly in the middle of the garden path. Along came the milkman the next morning and, fancying himself as a Stanley Matthews, took a run and a kick. Family legend has it that he broke his ankle.
From 1938 Noel attended Highfield Council School before obtaining a County Scholarship to Keighley Boys Grammar School. Noel played Rugby and Cricket for the school but clearly studied hard as he received an open scholarship to Cambridge University in 1951. However, it was 1954 before he took his place at Magdalene College as he first carried out his National Service in the RAF. He studied Maths on his return to University and also joined the chapel choir and other groups. It was here he began to sing solo for the first time. He mixed with the likes of Bamber Gascoigne and David Nobbs and his achievement in being the first of his generation – from a council school start, in a northern mill town – to get a place at Cambridge cannot be overstated.
This poem written by Noel speaks of this time in his life:
‘Essentials of Education’ by Noel Petty
You had to have Latin in those distant days
Or you’d not be allowed through the door,
But in that initial bewildering phase
You soon found you needed much more.
Compulsory too – it was death to refuse –
A duffel coat then was the drill,
An elegant waistcoat, a pair of suede shoes,
And trousers of cavalry twill.
A well-bred umbrella would crown the display,
Tight-furled, with a smart brass ferrule.
You could hear whole platoons of them tapping their way
To the Science or History School.
Of trophies and tokens I keep very few,
No oar is displayed on my wall.
A few scraps of learning, a snapshot or two,
And there, keeping faith in the hall,
A greying umbrella, flamboyancy’s ghost,
You might say we share our decline.
I take it for outings – just here to the post –
On days when the weather is fine.
On leaving Cambridge Noel joined The English Electric Company in Stafford working on the mathematics of switchgear, transmission lines and turbo-alternators. He carried out one project calculating the optimum distance, tension and height of power lines. He felt a little deflated on arrival at the site to discover a couple of blokes in wellies installing the lines shouting, “Up a bit, down a bit – that looks close enough”! He eventually moved on to become an early adopter of computer technology.
In 1958 Noel married Mollie Elizabeth Kane and their two sons Christopher and Giles were born in 1960 and 1962. The family moved with English Electric to Cheshire before he left the Company in 1963 and joined ICI at Wilton, moving to Redcar. He was seconded to the USA to work alongside IBM on a software project, taking the family to live in Tarrytown on the Hudson River for 18 months. Back in the UK he eventually moved back to Teesside in 1969 as deputy manager at ICI Billingham living in Marton.
Noel did plenty of regular dad things, like taking his boys to Ayresome Park for the first time – to see Middlesbrough not win a game they were expected to win. He later maintained that this was actually the perfect introduction to a lifetime as a Boro fan, the dubious joy of which has now also passed down to Noel’s grandson Tom.
Noel was a keen photographer and home movie maker and one summer at Marton, Chris and Giles have fond memories of Noel as the cameraman and director of their very own home-made James Bond film (the footage thankfully now lost!).
By 1972 he was singing with the Michelmas Singers, appearing on stage for the first time singing in the Billingham Barbers and he began writing for the stage including his pantomime The Snow Queen – fondly remembered for his creation of El Sitana, leader of the Robber Band. By 1983 he was writing more systematically via competitions in The Spectator, New Statesman, Literary Review and various other magazines and newspapers. He won very many modest prizes and a few very large ones. Some memorable entries from the hundreds he submitted were, “The works of Jane Austen in Limerick Form” and “Gordon Ramsey’s school report” plus a surreal piece from 1988 in which he appears to have invented The Fitbit! Various of Noel’s poems are now routinely studied in schools across the English-speaking world.
Noel’s good friend Barry tells of the time that the Barbershop Group were rehearsing round his dining table. The other three members were struggling to get to grips with the piece and concentrating intently on the music sheet. Noel, however, was not only, without effort, note perfect but when Barry finally looked up he saw that while singing Noel had also been completing the large jigsaw that was laid out on the table!
The de-facto ‘father’ of the Michelmas Singers, Harold, remembers how Noel was always a great help when trying to select music for the choir, introducing them to Finzi`s choral songs, and, in particular, Clear and Gentle Stream, which forms part of this celebration. Noel’s hours of research produced several `Words and Music` programmes which were amongst the best concerts the Singers performed.
In 1980 Noel separated from Mollie and was living in Hartburn with Joyce and her daughter Jude. By 1985 they had moved to Fairfield and Noel joined in the formation of the Cleveland Consort, a specialist early music group. He sang and played the Viol touring and giving concerts widely. He extended his interests to NORVIS, an early music summer school which he attended for 30 years eventually becoming treasurer.
Jude remembers when, despite the best efforts of her teachers, she just couldn’t get the hang of calculus. With exams looming, she turned to Noel. Patiently and methodically, he took her through it from first principles and, to this day, she says she couldn’t have passed the exam without him.
Jude was also lucky enough to accompany the choir and the Consort on several of their tours and her memories of Noel in tights are with her to this day!
Noel now has 3 grandchildren – Tom, Eric and Ian. Tom remembers the keen interest Noel took in his University project to design and write a program to solve Sudoku puzzles. They explored strategies together and discussed which were the best candidates to be automated. Noel was delighted to test prototypes of the solution and offer feedback.
When the pandemic struck, Noel’s response was to dig out a pre-war textbook and re-read about the mathematics of contagion and pandemics – “It’s essentially a maths problem,” he told Christopher last year.
Another poem by Noel seems the ideal place to finish this tribute to his life. It’s called:
‘Questionnaire’ by Noel Petty
Do you feel greater confidence, or less
about the future than a year ago?
Tick one box only.
Well, I must confess
things have been smoother for a year or so.
The children settled and the mortgage gone;
enough to live on, and a little more.
True, in the distance war-drums rumble on,
but nothing worse than what we’ve seen before.
It’s safe to tick the box marked Greater, then?
Not quite so fast, a quiet voice replies.
Full in your sights looms three score years and ten,
and each year is one nearer your demise.
Which prompts a darker question: is it best
to linger on behind, bereft and lonely,
or take an early bow before the rest?
Tick one box only.
Robert Petty story
I think I was about nine years old when we hired a car and went for a holiday in Pembrokeshire. In those pre-motorway days, it was obviously out of the question to drive all the way from Bradford to South Wales in a single day, so we broke the journey in Dudley, stopping overnight with my Uncle Wilf and Auntie Margaret.
Our house seemed rather frugal compared with this one. While the grown-ups were talking in the backroom, I was allowed to play with the record player (we didn’t have one) in the front. The idea of “a record” was something of a novelty; and I had certainly never come across recordings of comedy before. It was Barbara who drew my attention to them.
I’d never heard of Victor Borge and there was a record there with Phonetic Punctuation on one side and A Mozart Opera on the other. In the front room of that house on The Broadway I thought it was hilarious! Also there was a record by Peter Sellers with a spoof travelogue Balham – Gateway to the South. I loved this as well.
I’ve always been a mug for anyone who makes me laugh, so Barbara was achieving hero status for opening my eyes to this new world of laughter. And there was more! – Barbara was the owner of a budgie… which flew around the room… which landed on my head… and which could talk! This was little short of miraculous… and Kath and I pressed our parents for a budgie each; they arrived the following Christmas.
Jo Petty’s eulogy
On behalf of Jonathan, Mum and myself I’d like to thank you for coming today to celebrate the life of our lovely Auntie Barbara.
She was, I think we’d all agree, a strong, independent, loyal, thoughtful and kind lady. Over the past few weeks as we’ve been going through her things, memories have been flooding back and I’d like to share a few of these with you today.
81, The Broadway is an address forever etched in our minds – we have written it on countless envelopes and visited countless times. Auntie Barbara lived there for nearly 80 years moving from Keighley in Yorkshire when she was about 8.
She attended Dudley Grammar School and as we have cleared the house and realised that she kept every single significant piece of paperwork, we came across some school certificates – there were many for gymnastics at various levels amongst other academic subjects, always saying she was doing well. After school she began work as a nursery teacher before going to secretarial college. She then went to work as a secretary in Personnel at British Industrial Plastics where she worked until she retired.
She lived a rich and full life but with her heart rooted at home. She loved travelling and we have come across a wonderful box of all her trips, each one meticulously archived with tickets and brochures, photographs and postcards. There are photos of a young Barbara laughing with friends in the sun, or looking very fashionable in a green leather jacket and 60s’ sunglasses. In many pictures she is with her lifelong friend Val with whom she spent a great deal of time.
We had many family holidays together – to Woolacombe when we were tiny, and memorably on a boat in the Norfolk Broads, where dad nearly took the roof off the boat going under a low bridge! When I was in my early 20s and living in Peru, a very intrepid team of Mum, Dad and Auntie Barbara came to visit me – they had quite an adventure! Subsequent to that Mum and Auntie Barbara went on holiday every year after Dad had died, sharing lovely trips to Madeira and Spain.
She loved going on day trips and whenever I’d ring she’d always be off on an organised excursion to various houses and cathedrals. She loved her music and was very musical as a child playing the piano and then of course she was dedicated to the Dudley Music Society for many years, latterly as their secretary. Mick, her neighbour, says that even as she became more frail she still had the piano tuned twice a year.
We stayed at 81 The Broadway as kids and Jon and I always loved exploring her house, all neat and ordered and full of fascinating objects. We loved her garden and of course her cats. Over the years cats provided great companionship to her, owning many and then more recently she loved reporting the various regular visits she had from other people’s cats.
But our strongest collective family memory is of Auntie Barbara coming up for Christmas – every Christmas ever in our lives included Auntie Barbara. I have an image of her with a Christmas hat on, chatting away, eating her Christmas dinner at our huge family gatherings. We have many pictures of the flaming Christmas pudding, which she always made, arriving at the table. I think she used to make it in March to be ready in time….
She always looked lovely on these occasions, brooch at her neck, a nice blouse, often a silk scarf.
I remember when she first decided not to come up for Christmas – it was about 5 years ago and it was really shocking, a point in time signifying change in her and our lives. Craig offered to go down and collect her but no, as we well know, when Auntie Barbara made up her mind, that was that!
I am relieved that she had the chance several times to meet my partner Craig and cuddle my children, Holly and Murray – you never know when the last occasion is going to be and I am very grateful that she met them.
In recent years we were under strict instructions not to visit as she became more unable to cope. I was relieved when Mum and I were allowed to visit her in the care home last year, the last time I would see her. She, of course, was determined to get back to her own home and whilst we found it very hard that she was living in such difficult circumstances, we have the utmost respect for her as she was exactly where she wanted to be. It was her ultimate wish in life that she remained independent, ate what and when she wanted, went to bed when she wanted and got up when she wanted, surrounded by her own things. I do not know how she got up those stairs! but this was a woman who had was fiercely independent and would not give up.
I used to ring every few months to see how she was – recently our conversations invariably turned to talking about my Dad. Dad was, as described by Auntie Barbara, her best friend. Over the years they shared their news and life goings on– this is evident in the numerous letters sent between them we have found. It is a great shame that Auntie Barbara wasn’t well enough to meet Jon’s son William who is now just 1 and a half. However, Dad and Auntie Barbara would both be delighted that the Petty name, which was in danger of vanishing finally has a successor!
Finally some thankyou’s. First to Mum who has visited Auntie Barbara very regularly over the years and always stayed in touch offering friendship and support. Even at age 84 she has been up and down the M6 many many times to see her. She has organised today and Jon and I are extremely grateful.
Finally, we would like to extend the utmost gratitude to Mick, Julie and John, Auntie Barbara’s neighbours for over 50 years. Thank you so much for the kindness and support you’ve shown to Barbara over many many years but especially recently when we were unable to help. You went beyond the call of duty and we cannot thank you enough.