Village Voice February/March 2013 | Page 21

JUST KEEP GOING ………. A great friend of ours, Andrew Millington, wrote this poem for a party we gave for her when she arrived a year ago. John Sargent Window Shopping As an example to us all, she takes some beating. It was soon after the War, Afternoon, about four. Mary Sargent was shopping in Reading; She had some coupons left over Enough for some undies Some sweets, a banana and bedding. She was a world famous yachting photographer in her time, pioneering the taking of photos from wave top height, using a Rolleiflex camera that she could look down into, rather than through. So content, it was home she was bent that fine day, When her eye's strangely drawn to a window display. It was all set around with photographer’s prints, Claiming 'Quality papers, black and white or with tints.' She was my mother's bridesmaid, and came down to see The Old Rectory, Bighton with her in 1946, when it was for sale for £11,000. Quite nice pictures of people from Reading, A young able seaman, safe home from the sea. A rather smug student with rolled-up degree. A round-bellied bride in an urgent white wedding A tent full of boy scouts on their jamboree. My Godmother, Eileen Ramsay, has now come to live in The Shed, (which she calls The Stables), adjacent to our house. They had met when my mother, shopping in Reading, walked into a famous photographer's shop where Eileen was working. In not untypical form, she announced that she didn't want any photos, thank you, but she DID want to meet the person who had arranged the flowers in the window, as she was sure that they would be kindred spirits. And so, over the years, Eileen became a friend to the greater family, photographing all the Cousins and Aunts as they got Christened, Married, had more babies, and grew old. At first living at Hamble, then at Droxford, she now has retired to live with us. AND, she has just had a book of her photographs published: the BBC is coming to televise her after Christmas. If, dear reader, you are planning to retire at 65, think again. Into the shop strode this purposeful lady and tapped on the shiny brass bell. When the owner appeared she smiled and assured him She knew he took photographs well. “That's very well known, but it’s quite something else that prompts my enquiry today. Those beautiful flowers in your window display, What extraordinary powers they have to compel. I feel sure I've come under their spell. I must speak to the florist who is blessed with such skill, I just know we'll be friends straightaway”. And so it was, through so many years Through joyous days and a scattering of tears, That seedling bond that fate had found Was nourished in the sun of friendship’s fertile ground. Now, to shelter from the chill of modern day The love that bound two friends so close, comes home to stay. To dwell mid Bighton's fields and woodlands wild Safe, in a Rectory garden in the love of friendship's child. 19