29/05/2025
Poem: “Ninety Years of Jean”
Born in Glasgow, 1935,
Raised tough, stayed sharp, and fully alive.
Through sirens, rations, cold and war,
She learned early what strength was for.
In her twenties, she took a leap,
A ten-pound ticket, the ocean deep.
She landed here, no grand parade,
Just hope, and heart, no plan made.
She became a mum and changed her fate,
With strength, with love, she made life great.
No manual needed, she just knew
How to love hard, and raise me true.
The seventies? Music and smoke-filled nights,
Johnny Cash and neon lights.
She didn’t need colour TV’s glow
We all know. She was the show.
The eighties hit, and I flew afar
Writing letters from trains, and a few bars.
Reverse charges phone calls under the London sky
She always picked up. She never asked why.
She faced down cancer not once, but three
And still made dinner & laughed with me.
Never a fuss, no spotlight craved
Just “I’m alright, love,” so strong, so brave.
The nineties brought grandkids and mobile phones
Which, to be fair, she’s never quite owned.
FaceTime her now? Don’t hold your breath
You’ll get her ear, or one eye at best.
We travelled together in the years that came,
Through sorrow, joy, sunshine and rain.
Laughed ‘til we cried, no maps, no plans
Just cups of tea and bags of hot chips in our hands.
And now she’s ninety, and a great-grandmother too,
Still says, “I’m fine,” and mostly that’s true.
Still cheeky, still clever, with her humble signature flair
There’s just no one else who quite compares.
Welcome to the family sweet Andy, a dream wrapped in grace,
With your name in her heart and your smile on her face.
A new little light in our family’s line
And part of her magic will always be yours and mine.
So here’s to Jean, my mum, my heart,
Still lighting rooms, still playing her part.
She’s taught me how to live and give
And most of all, how best to live.
