| Notes |
- The following eulogy, written by David Ash, was delivered at Jean’s funeral on 16th July 2024.
“Two of Mum’s many qualities were her preference for simplicity and her lack of pretension. In a talk which she gave to a Mothers’ Union group in 2001, she said this: “It was once said to me that I should be more like a vicar’s wife. What does that mean, I wonder? I’m not one for airs or graces. One of my prayers has always been, ‘Lord, make me real’. I’ve always tried to be just myself.”
I am sure that those of you who knew her, and especially those who knew her well, would agree that it was simply by being herself that she lit up the world around her and made it a warmer, more welcoming place. She didn’t have to try. People loved her for who she was and not just because she was beautiful. I hope you would also agree that, at an occasion such as this, she would not want me to tell a long-winded life story, though I admit I have been sorely tempted, for there is much to tell. However, we have only a few minutes. And so, rather than paint you an elaborate portrait of the remarkable woman to whom we are saying goodbye, and for whom we are saying thank you, I offer a simple sketch, a line drawing, if you will, made of just a few of her more outstanding traits. The beauty of a line drawing is that you can complete the picture for yourself, adding detail and colour from your own memories of Jean and filling in some of the gaps that I will be obliged to leave. And then, perhaps, over tea and cake afterwards, we can continue the process, filling in the spaces in each other’s stories by sharing our memories of her.
Let me start with a basic outline. One of the reasons we chose the Bible reading you heard earlier is because, at the heart of it, there is a description of Mum. It goes like this: “Jean was patient; Jean was kind; Jean was not envious or boastful or arrogant or rude. She did not insist on her own way; she was not irritable or resentful; she did not rejoice in wrongdoing, but rejoiced in the truth. She bore all things, believed all things, hoped all things, endured all things.”
The beauty of Mum’s character was formed in a happy, loving home in which she was the youngest of two daughters. Her father, The Reverend Walter Topping, was a vicar who served parishes in the East End of London and, later, here in Essex, in Old Harlow, in Westcliff, and in the hamlet of Magdalen Laver, 30 miles north-west of here. Though life as a child in a country vicarage was contented and full of adventures, there was something about it that led her, as a young adult, to decide that she would never marry a vicar. And she didn’t. That journey started later.
Her mother, Winifred or Winnie, she described in the same Mothers’ Union talk as “a gentle, unassuming soul” who adored her children, loved to play with them and, crucially, passed on to them her love of music. Winnie, whom we knew as Granny, was a talented pianist and it was she who established, for our family, the tradition of the “sing song” around the piano. Just as she played for her daughters, Joyce and Jean, so Jean, as a young mother, would regularly gather the four of us around the large, black piano in what we called the drawing room. You’ll see a photo of us in action on the screens at the end of the service. (Please do stay for the slideshow). I have forgotten most of what we sang when we were very small, but the seeds planted then proved to be remarkably fruitful. Thanks to Mum and to the love of music which she shared with Dad, each of us, Nick, Jackie, Liz and I have been blessed with lives filled with singing and performing. As you may have heard at the crematorium earlier, that same influence is now at work among her grandchildren. Who knows where it will end?
As the front cover of today’s order of service implies, music lay at the heart of who Jean was. Indeed, it could be argued that our family would not exist at all if she had not had a musical soul. Nor would we be who we are if it were not for the Christian faith which she first absorbed from her parents. Faith and music became part of the bedrock on which her life, her marriage and our family would eventually be built.
When Mum was a young teacher, probably with her father’s encouragement, she developed an interest in the work of a Christian missionary organisation, CMS. It was at a CMS meeting in London that she was first introduced to her future husband, a young employee of the National Provincial Bank. It was while travelling home with him on the train from that meeting that they realised they sang in the same choir, the Tonbridge Philharmonic. That brief encounter led to her decision to leave her church in Tonbridge and to start worshipping in the village of Hildenborough, where Brian used to run a CMS young people’s group. And there is a fairly direct line from those events to the day when, during a bike ride in the Kent countryside in 1954, Jean and Brian broke through a hedge into the grounds of Hever Castle. As they sat by the lake, he proposed and she said yes. It’s true. They got engaged while trespassing. But then, there always was a playfully impish side to Mum. Those of you who knew her well will have seen what someone once called her “smile which hints at mischief”.
Before I go any further, I would like to return for a moment to Winnie; but not, this time, to her mother. Because, you see, there were two Winnies in Mum’s life and one of them was a bear with an inordinate love of honey. I began by referring to Mum’s lack of pretension and her desire to be just herself, as she put it. In her less confident moments, this modesty could sometimes shade into a lack of confidence in her own abilities. On those rare occasions when she doubted her gifts, she could be heard to echo Winnie the Pooh by referring to herself as “a bear of very little brain”. If you know this, you will better understand the poem which my sister Jackie is going to read to you in a moment. And if you knew Jean, you will know that her self-doubt was entirely unjustified.
For she was a lady of enormous ability in all the areas that matter. As a wife, a mother, an aunt, a homemaker, a cook, a colleague and a friend; later in life, as a much-loved grandmother and great-grandmother. As a teacher, an organiser, a musical director, a choir trainer, a worship leader; as an encourager, a reconciler, a listener, an unshakeable support to those who depended on her; as one who would always put the needs of others before her own, always with a smile and often with a slice of cake. If you were lucky, it was her Queen Mother’s cake. If you were one of the homeless people who used to come to the vicarage door in search of food, clothes or shelter, you were in for some VIP treatment. We cannot know exactly what was said when she entered heaven, but I would be prepared to bet that it went something like this: “For I was hungry and you gave me something to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you invited me in, I needed clothes and you clothed me, I was sick and you looked after me.” Mum knew what life was about, and she knew what it was for. Unconditional love. But a love that never took itself too seriously.
For Jean, life was often full of delight. As we have reminisced as a family over recent weeks, the moments that stand out are often those when Mum was revelling in the joy of being alive. Jackie has reminded me of her habit of waking us up for school by singing “It’s time to get up” to the tune of the military reveillé. There were those Christmas mornings during our childhood when she would rush excitedly from bedroom to bedroom to watch us opening the presents she had wrapped the night before. The laughter prompted by quotations from hit shows which found their way into everyday conversation. Mention a rose, for example, and Jean would respond, in her poshest stage voice, “But roses are always lovely!”, a line from the 1950s musical “Salad Days”, one of her favourites.
Those musicals were such a significant part of her life that they deserve a mention of their own. Mum’s musical tastes were broad, but there were few things she loved as much as a good show, especially if she was holding the conductor’s baton. I have fond memories of playing the piano for her at Farrington’s School in Chislehurst in about 1980 while she rehearsed a cast of very small girls for a performance of either “The Wizard of Oz” or “Snow White”, I forget which. When producing a school musical, Jean would often write her own script to fit around the songs, simplifying the language and the story for children. There is a rumour that, as part of her research, she once smuggled a cassette tape recorder into a cinema in order to make an illegal recording of the sound track of a well-known film. I believe she even attempted the same subterfuge at the Royal Albert Hall. It would appear that there were few risks she was not prepared to take in the pursuit of artistic excellence.
During the 24 years which Mum and Dad spent in south-east London, from 1973 to 1997, when Dad was the vicar of St Augustine’s, Bromley, Mum divided her time between school, family and parish. This was the first time, after a decade or more spent raising a young family, first in Plymouth and then in Maidstone, that she was able to step, not without trepidation, into the rôle of vicar’s wife. As we have heard, her involvement went far beyond the expected stereotype. In Dad’s words, this is when Mum “really blossomed”. Her previous experience as a leader in a uniformed organisation called the Campaigners, a Christian group for girls, enabled her to take a leading role in the development of the church’s Pathfinder group for older primary children, together with some other remarkable people known to some of you. Together, they helped large numbers of young people to lay the foundations of their own faith.
It was in the 1970s that the musical culture of church worship in this country started to change quite radically. The traditional diet of hymns, anthems and what were then called choruses began to be supplemented by what were daringly called … songs. These days, worship songs are everywhere. Back then, as song books like “Youth Praise” evolved towards more recent incarnations like “Songs of Fellowship”, Jean was quick to jump on the bandwagon. She was a key player (literally) in the development of a music group at St Augustine’s, a new phenomenon at the time, which helped to introduce the congregation to some of the new material. She also stood in as organist and choir mistress when the need arose. Dad told me the other day that he has never come across anyone who could accompany worship on the piano so beautifully.
But singing and playing were simply not enough for Mum. There also had to be performance. And so St Augustine’s was introduced to Christian musicals, many of them written by Roger Jones, the talented founder of Christian Music Ministries. Productions like “Greater than Gold” and “From Pharoah to Freedom” drew together large numbers of adults and children, deepened faith, built community, nurtured talent and communicated joy, Mum’s hallmark. Jean had her own repertoire of techniques for developing latent gifts. One of the many warm tributes we have received from friends since she died illustrates beautifully her gift for encouraging nervous performers. A former member of St Augustine’s wrote this: “I remember when she convinced me I could become a member of the choir. I said I really liked singing but that I could not reach the high notes. ‘Don’t worry,’ she said, ‘just raise your eyebrows and it will come naturally.‘“
Those of you who have only known Jean since she returned to Essex on leaving Bromley will, no doubt, be recognising a pattern; for the way in which she gave herself so enthusiastically to the life of St Augustine’s is echoed in the way in which she and Brian have given themselves to this parish and to this city since they settled here in 1997. Among the many friends they have won for themselves here are the members of the Southend Bach Choir and the Holy Trinity Church choir, who have combined their forces to lead our singing this afternoon. Thank you, for what you will sing for us later, and for all the pleasure & friendship you have given Brian and Jean over the years. I don’t know how we could have given Mum the joyful musical send off she wished for without your generosity.
And speaking of generosity, there is one other group of people who must be thanked in person this afternoon. I do not have adequate words to express my profound gratitude, and that of the rest of the family, for the selfless, tireless, skilful care which supported Mum throughout her final years and particularly through the last few months, as Alzheimers Disease robbed her of almost everything. I would like to say to Dad, to my extraordinary sisters Jackie & Liz, to Barbara and other local friends, and to the professional carers from Bright Horizons who provided such exemplary support during Mum’s last weeks at home: we are deeply grateful that you were there, that you knew what to do and that you did it with such grace.
I wish we had the time to reflect more fully on other parts of Mum’s life, particularly on the quarter of a century which she and Dad have spent here among you in Rayleigh and Southend, building relationships, tending their garden, supporting children & grandchildren, serving church and community. I wish, in particular, that we had the time to talk about what might be their greatest achievement, the establishment of the most wonderful extended family which, inspired by their example, nurtured by their wisdom and strengthened by their prayers, remains strong, faithful and united despite everything life has thrown at us.
But we must move on. This is only a line drawing, after all. So let the last line be this.
Mum was specific about the form she wanted this service to take. “Full of joy and singing” she wrote. Her choice of the hymns was deliberate too. Through their words, she wants to communicate to us what was of supreme importance to her, the faith by which she lived and the simple trust in God on which it rested.
At the crematorium earlier today, Chris Peacock read to us from the Book of Proverbs. His reading contains a passage which has been foundational to the life which Mum and Dad have shared. It was the text of the sermon at their wedding. They have returned to it again and again at times of indecision and uncertainty. They have drawn strength from it when stepping out into the unknown. They have impressed it upon each of us, their children, as we have encountered the storms of life. And it goes like this:
“Trust in the Lord with all your heart, and do not rely on your own understanding. In all your ways acknowledge him, and he will make straight your paths.”
Mum knew this to be true. Her life proved it. And in the hymn we are about to sing, she invites us to place the same trust in the God who guides us, as he guided her, through change and chance until, like her, we reach our final destination and are reunited.
So let us stand to sing “All my hope on God is founded”.
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1931 - 2024 (93 years)
Residence
