First of all, I’d like to thank you all for being here today.

Mum was born in Sandy Lane, 92 years ago, in a snowstorm. The youngest of 12, sadly, she is the last of that generation of Taylors.

Such a large family gave rise to many stories about Christmas meals with too many around the table for everyone to eat at the same time, games of “BoilerBurst”, and her own mother running through the children’s names until she got to the right one. “Ida, Helen, Hilda, Marjorie… Joyce, you know I mean you!”

After her father died when she was 10, her eldest brother Jack took on that role, for her and the younger sisters.

Although she passed the 11 plus exam for grammar school, family circumstances didn’t allow her to go, and she left school at 14.

Her first jobs were clerical, for companies like the scientific instrument manufacturers Griffin and George.

At that time, she attended Holy Trinity Church Bordesley, along with Doreen with whom she remained friends for the rest of her life. Half a mile away, lived the Bennett family to whom she delivered the church magazine, and that was how she came to meet my dad, Dennis.

They were married at the church in 1961 and were, it is fair to say, devoted to each other throughout their married life.

Three months before I was born, they moved into the house she lived in for the rest of her life. She didn’t feel as at home at the local church All Saints, as she had at Trinity, but still she felt it was more important that I made friends locally, and so she took me to the youth groups there. It is easy to underestimate the significance of small, brave, decisions. I would make many good and long-lasting friendships, especially Richard who is here today. And she always loved to see him when we were both in Birmingham.

As I grew up it was not only me that she had to care for. The health problems of a number of people close to her needed her attention, not least my dad.

She was unfailingly at his side, always his support.

But still the things that stand out for me are the happy family holidays on the south coast and Scotland, mom and I on our tours of Crazy Golf courses, Christmases playing Gin Rummy with my Uncle Harry, Aunty Gladys and my Cousin Barbara.

On the maternity ward Mum had met another new mother, Jean, whose son Paul was born three days before me. Paul and I still meet to celebrate our birthdays – something that always delighted mum. He was able to briefly visit her last summer, and she really brightened up when she saw him.

I grew up with regular visits to Paul and his sister Julie’s house, when we were young. Julie remembers mum’s “no nonsense” approach. And I can assure her, that mum’s doctors, nurses and carers can attest that that approach did not ever diminish!

In 1978 she started a job as a classroom assistant at Calthorpe, a school for pupils with special educational needs. Despite being terrified of speaking in public, she became a rep for the Union NUPE. She screwed up her courage and did it. Because it needed doing.

It was at Calthorpe that she worked with a teacher, Pat, with whom she formed a friendship that continued for more than 40 years. Pat isn’t able to be here today, but we’ve spoken on the phone about the support they were able to offer each other at school, and beyond.

Mum started losing her hearing in her thirties. By 1979 she started wearing a hearing aid, and eventually a second. Deafness affected her life profoundly, and she became a great advocate for Deaf awareness. With both her and dad retired, she started as a volunteer for the RNID, supporting and encouraging people new to hearing aids. [Whether they liked it or not!]

When Dom and Jonny were born, she, and my dad, could not have been more proud. And in turn, the boys remember the Cornetto ice creams and crisps when Nana babysat, playing badminton in the garden, and being read stories. But she was relieved when they were big enough to get themselves to bed. Afterwards she would, without fail, describe them as having been ‘golden’.

Later on, she never felt Dom’s grade 8 ability on the guitar was properly tested until he could prove he could play Old MacDonald. So, for her he did. She marvelled at Jonny’s karate black belt, comparing it unfavourably with my rather less impressive one-year Judo career.

In retirement, mum and dad would regularly holiday at a cottage in Criccieth in North Wales, in the shadow of the castle. With a thermos of coffee, they would visit the surrounding towns and villages, not often walking far but enjoying the tranquillity and beauty of the countryside. After dad died, mum would tell me how she would go back there in her mind, and picture it, perfectly, complete with her beloved Den.

Maybe she was doing just that in 2002, when she travelled on her own on a train for the first time in 40 years. That was to visit me, Caroline, Dominic and Jonathan in Liverpool – her family of whom she was so proud.

Newly widowed at 73, the 100-mile trip, alone, was a daunting prospect. She told me that she knew she had to take her courage in both hands at that point, or she would never be able to do it. That was characteristic of two things about mum: a spirit of independence that remained with her throughout, and a belief that sometimes you just have to ignore your fears, however big or small they seem, and do what you must.

In recent years mum’s mobility decreased a lot, but she was determined to remain as independent as possible, still insisting, for example, on doing her own shopping at the start of the first Covid19 lockdown.

She still made it to Liverpool for Christmases as recently as 2019, very much enjoying the added company of Stephanie and William, along with her grandsons.

Her nieces Karen and Barbara have always provided her with great friendship, sharing puzzle magazine clues, often with the added entertainment of mum’s misheard words. Their support has been invaluable.

Mum’s first choice hairdresser for 15 years was Vicki, but just as importantly Vicki and her mum Kate have been great and caring friends to mom over many years, and a real help to me over the last year.

Mum had a number of favourite sayings. Here are two: “Don’t worry worry, ‘til worry worries you” (meaning don’t over-think things), and “If God doesn’t come, he always sends” (things work out).

She remained positive in many difficult circumstances in her life, caring for her husband and others unselfishly. After mom died, as the sun was setting I went for a walk in Cannon Hill Park. Just like the day she was born, it started to snow.

Goodnight mum.