For those of you that weren't able to make the service today, I just wanted to share the eulogy that my uncles Peter and Tim, and myself gave.
PETE
When Sally and I were just 4 and 6 we were rather surprised by Jill’s arrival – we’d been promised something special …. and indeed we were delighted that we got new bunk beds!
Little did we realise then just what a force of nature had come into our family. Very soon honing her innate sense of fun, well maybe mischief, she was quickly an instigator of all sorts of our games and pranks. Boisterous, adventurous, bubbly and gregarious …... she was a proper handful from her earliest days.
Even as a young child Jill demonstrated a passion for games and the outdoors. I wrote to her just 2 weeks ago to tell her what a wonderful privilege it had been to know her, and to be close to her, all through her life. I told her that wherever she goes now I’ll know where she is …… in every nursery and classroom, on every games court, at every beach, in every sea, on all the footpaths I’ll ever walk. I reassured her that our loving memory of her will never be extinguished nor ever forgotten.
Growing up she soon showed a talent and a feel for looking after anyone in need - a trait she continued all through her life, always eager to welcome to her home her mum, aunt, siblings, nephews, nieces and indeed anyone who knew her family. I don’t think it was just the cheap labour she relished, to help tackle her never ending supply of ‘jobs’?
But in her youth she had the ideal captive candidate to polish her skills in her younger brother Tim…… and Tim can tell you more now!
TIM
Ladies and gentlemen, let me take you back to the 1970s - growing up in East Anglia. Many of you will be familiar with the Jack and Jill stories, well this is a story about Tim and Jill. T and J - Just like Tom and Jerry in fact we did used to fight like cat and dog when we were younger.
And just like Tom and Jerry we had a classic love hate relationship, and one of the reasons for this was because I was Jill’s younger brother and I was often stuck like glue to her, at times when she wished she could just give me the elbow! Although she used to mother me (or was it smother me), she used to mock me quite a bit too.
However, I have to say, on occasions, I did deserve it. And one of her favourite sayings on such occasions was: you Stupid boy! I’m sure many of the more senior of you will remember the saying from Dad’s army, which was a family favourite in the Newman household back then.
In those days there were no electronic devices to keep us entertained, occupied, or in touch with our parents and it was literally safe to play both on and off the streets, from dawn to dusk - and play we did - without a care in the world.
Quite often on the seafront cliffs, sliding down in plastic bags, climbing the trees and playing chicken with the sea, trying not to get wet as the waves lashed onto the rocks, and failing miserably.
One day, jill decided we could go faster with our go cart, and it needed extra horsepower. However in the absence of an horse, our pet Labrador was put to good use and tied to the front of the cart by a skipping rope!
All that was needed was a crash test dummy, and guess who that was? Yes - yours truly ( thank you jill ). So with Jill’s sound advice and a loud shout at the dog, I was off off like a shot, hurtling down the pavement at a great rate of knots, the only problem we hadn’t foreseen was how to stop! So with a road junction looming, I bailed out of the side door and rolled into a wall whilst the dog careered off into the dunes trailing a twisted and turning wreck of a go cart.
Quite concerned jill ran over to me to make sure I was still alive, dusted me down, looked at me then roared with laughter - and once again, I felt a very stupid boy !
Back in the day, many villages had pubs called “The Nags head” (but I had one of my own - my sister Jill!). If it wasn’t enough to have my mother tell me how to behave and what to do, my sister also had to have her own opinion and have a go at me too!
Jill was artful, quick - witted , sporty , and feisty and liked her food as well and thought nothing off pinching my chips off my plate as I was eating them! When I tried to get my own back one day she stabbed me in the back of my hand with her fork!
My love for jill had always been pure, clean and strong
And my love for her will go on and on. I miss her every single day and in every possible way.
Her passion for life for fitness and fun, for swimming on the beach and feeling the warmth of the sun.
Her zest for life and caring attitude; she could also be so very very rude . Her great big smile and bigger head of hair; she was the one who really did care.
PETE
Jill qualified in childcare and came to Jersey as a nanny in 1982…..Not that long afterwards she rang me to ask for my advice ……’Pete’, she said, ‘what do you think …. airline pilot, or farmer’?
Quick as a flash I replied ‘just for the weekend? …. or for life? I think she knew already but, if not, I know it was the best answer I ever gave to anyone.
TOM
Whilst sitting around the dinner table the other day, Mum tried to convince the family that she did not do anything exceptional in her life. We disagreed.
She moved to Jersey in 1982 at age 21 to take a job as a nanny. To help her acclimatise and to get her out of the house, the family she was nannying for introduced her to another nanny, my future godmother, who convinced mum to join her for a drink at the Trinity Arms.
It was that night that she met my dad. She recounted walking in to the bar and scanning the faces for tall, dark, handsome men. Unfortunately for her, Harrison Ford wasn’t in the room, but my Dad was.
Mum and Dad married at Georgetown Methodist church on October 19th, 1985, and spent their honeymoon in the Loire Valley, where dad managed to lock the keys in the car resulting in them having to call an emergency locksmith.
On their return they set up home in Solnet on La Blinerie lane in St Clement. Shortly thereafter, Mum gave birth to me, Tom, in June of 1987.
Not being one to let a newborn baby get in the way of her sport, Mum still managed to make the Netball Senior B team for the inter insulars in March of 1988. She had already been playing for a very successful Trinity team that were Channel Island champions in the mid eighties.
Later that year the three of us moved to Cottage Farm in St. Martin, and Jack was born in December. Daniel followed in April of 1991, and then finally, Rebecca in May of 1994.
We spent 21 happy years at Cottage Farm. This was our childhood home where mum raised us 4 children, whilst working as a teaching assistant, and seemingly managing to also participate in almost every physical activity possible.
To say she was an active person is perhaps a gross understatement of her level of energy. Her passion for sport was unmatched, proven by the fact that she represented the island in at least three different disciplines.
She loved sports so much that she once attempted to bat in a rounders game whilst holding a crying child. It did not end well, with my brother Daniel being hit in the head with the bat and requiring hospital treatment.
She was most enthusiastic about Netball and played for a long time for St Lawrence. In 1998 she played for the St Lawrence A team that won division 2 of the winter league and in 2015 she won the Mary Blake tournament. She also received the players player of the year for the D team in 2016, and for the C team in 2017.
Mum was a keen member of both Hawks and Flyers Badminton Clubs and played league and tournaments whenever Netball allowed. She represented the Jersey Veterans in the Badminton Inter Insulars twice and in February of this year she was unanimously voted to receive the ‘Jersey Gnome’ for the best Jersey performance. She was voted member of the year in 2016, player of the year in 2017, and won the Jeans Jug trophy in both 2010 and 2013.
She also played Tennis at a number of different courts, representing the island in Inter Insulars in both 2016 and 17. At les Ormes she won the Sue Basden-Smith memorial trophy in 2013 and was runner up in 2016.
We have a cabinet at home full of trophies too numerous to mention, but those golfers here today should be grateful she never had time for golf. The first trophy she ever won in Jersey was the Ladies Prize at the 1985 Trinity Arms Open.
Us siblings have reminisced about our fondest memories of our childhood.
We can remember spending many happy afternoons during the summer holidays down at Bel Val beach in amongst the rock pools or playing outside on the farm and mum calling us for dinner by ringing a large hanging bell.
As kids of around Primary school age, if we were playing up in the car on the way home, mum used to stop at the end of the road and make us walk the last bit.
She thought this was a good tactic for dealing with naughty children, but little did she know that we actually purposefully created this ruckus as if we were forced to walk home it meant that we conveniently missed out on having to help to unpack the shopping.
We left the farm and moved across the road to Seaford in 2009. Since being diagnosed with cancer in 2012, mum, or ‘sick note’ as she was affectionately known, coped with 2 major operations, 3 doses of radiotherapy and 4 rounds of chemotherapy and she did it all with an incredible energy, positivity, and spirit that touched all of those around her.
In was during these years that she somehow managed to actually increase her level of activity. She became a keen racquetball player, continued going to keep fit on a Sunday morning, took up Zumba and yoga classes as well as regularly swimming and doing aqua aerobics at the Merton.
She managed to fit all of that around walking her two dogs, Jessie and Beanie twice a day.
I don’t know of anyone else who would be capable of playing sports before a scheduled round of chemotherapy, only to then find out that they couldn’t have any treatment because their blood test results were not good enough.
When I reflect back on the time we’ve spent together, it only ever comes out as a combination of unconditional love, humour, warmth, care, and kindness.
I’m lucky enough to inherit a lot of her sense of humour, especially her appreciation of dark humour. In her last few years sentences such as “It could be worse, not much worse, but it could be worse” were part of our regular conversation.
She taught me you can make a joke about almost anything, and that if you’re going to cry about something, you might as well laugh first.
She used to enjoy playing jokes on her own children. I remember being woken very early on a crisp April morning - April 1st to be precise, by a frantic mother claiming that a meteorite had landed in the garden.
I was not immediately convinced considering the apparent lack of devastation, but nonetheless my siblings and I ventured out to where we were told the meteorite lay.
What we found was a single, unripe melon.
I knew it was unripe because I was particularly unhappy about being duped and attempted to destroy it. Mum was beside herself with laughter.
At Christmas she used to force us kids out on a morning walk. I never quite understood why at the time, but now I see the value in creating those family moments that brings you closer together.
A few weeks ago, I asked her what her secret was to being a good parent. Her response to me: “Time, just give your children your time”. She gave us all more than enough.
I wish I had time to tell you more, but everyone here will know that trying to recount even a small part of her life in a few minutes is an impossible task.
I'm sad at her passing, but at the same time I'm really happy that something could make me feel this sad.
And I know the only way I could feel this sad now is if I felt something really good before. So, I’m happy to take the bad with the good, and although I’m sad, it’s a beautiful kind of sadness.
For a woman who used to joke to me that she only had one brain cell, she sure did put it to good use.
