Member Spotlight: The story of member @Dennis and his lovely English Rose
- Replies 16
Introducing the original riddle master, member @Dennis! You’ve likely come across Dennis’ puns and riddles in our newsletter and on the forum, as well as some fantastic jokes and insights on articles. We thought it was time you all got to know the brains behind the screen!
Firstly, how did you find the SDC?
I came across an article about SDC and instantly tied it into my last job. I became a member and contacted Maddie, and explained what I had done for the last 8 years. And could I help her at all? Somehow this led to the RRJD (R-rated joke of the day) jokes and I managed to provide lots of riddles and a few other things and so we became friends.
Do you have any advice for fellow SDC members?
Words of wisdom from my father! When I started work he said, ‘Son, always do your best, sometimes it might not be good enough but at least you knew you had tried.’ My Mother said to me, ‘Choose your friends carefully because sometimes your best friend turns out to be your worst enemy.’
Now, we would love to hear your story.
Myself and family arrived in this beautiful country as 10 pound poms in 2008.
I was born in Radford, a suburb of Nottingham, in a house which was similar to the ones shown on the TV program Coronation Street. My school life was spent during the war. At 14, my life changed. I joined the Sherwood Foresters Army Cadet BN, I was with them for four years, reaching the rank of Regimental Quartermaster Sergeant. I was going to be the first holder for the Sword Of Honour, but this did not eventuate because I was called up for National Service. With being in the Cadets, I was sent to a special infantry camp for 20 weeks of extensive training in Scotland. When that finished, I was sent to my county regiment which was with the rest of the Midland Brigade at Strensall in Yorkshire.
At 16, I met a girl, Betty, one of two I ever went out with, and we spent as much time together as we could.
I was told I was going back home for ten days on leave and going overseas. As my regiment was in Germany, I thought I would be going there, which was fine as you could get home on leave when it was due. Imagine the shock when I was told I was being transferred to the Royal Warwickshire Regiment, which was part of the Midland Brigade, and with a group of others, we would be going on active service to Jerusalem.
During that leave, I asked Betty if she would like to be engaged to me. She said yes. I spent five months in Jerusalem and we left a day before it became Israel and we crossed the desert by motor transport into Egypt and crossed the Suez Canal, and finished up at a tented camp. The last few weeks in Jerusalem, I had become a Batman to an officer, which was fine as he had to pay me a pound a month to look after him. After six weeks, we were told that we were being dismembered and the company was being removed to the UK and being rebuilt there, and only a few important personnel would return with them. And then, one morning, on company orders, I saw that Brigade HQ was looking for a Batman to go with them to Salonika, Greece. I put my name forward and was accepted, and for the last ten months, I was a Batman to a Roman Catholic Padre who was in the Parachute Regiment and was a perfect gentleman to serve.
Finally came the day I was transported with all my kit back to the UK. We first saw the English shore on Saturday morning and later had a real welcome home, sailing up the Solent to berth at Southampton. The Queen Mary passed us with all the passengers waving. After we berthed, we were taken to a camp to hand all our kit in and have our release papers and a ticket for transport home. I had sent two telegrams from the ship to let my parents and Betty know I would be home. I waited till Sunday evening to see Betty as I knew we would have the house to ourselves. After taking her in my arms and kissing her, I felt something was wrong and put it down to being apart for so long; then she said I have something to tell you, ‘I want to break off the engagement; there is someone else.’ Well, you could have hit me with a brick, and I was speechless. Three weeks later, I saw in the local paper they had married.
It seemed strange that, again, my life was changing. Army life had changed the shape of my body, so some of my old clothes (full of the smell of mothballs) had to be replaced, and this left me in an awkward position. Though the government had stolen 2 years of our lives, they didn’t give us a penny to get established again. All they gave us were the clothes we were wearing; they even took our greatcoats. At the beginning of my army life I had 10 shillings a week taken from my pay and sent to my mother to help them at home, but unbeknownst to me, she had put it in the bank for when the two years were over. I was loath to take it but gradually paid her back when I had a job.
Before his illness—heart trouble—my dad had worked at the Raleigh Bicycle company, and one of the people he played lawn bowls with was a foreman there, so Dad contacted him to see if he could find me a job. He arranged an interview, and when I went for the job, the commissioner at the entrance to the factory took me to the paint department and in the little office was the foreman, under-foreman and a good-looking young lady (little did I know that she would turn out to be my English Rose and my future wife). I had put on my uniform again—which had the Palestine Campaign medal ribbon—thinking it might help me get employed. I got the job of putting coloured lines on bicycle mudguards. The payment was piece work, so the more you did, the more you were paid.
My problem was that I was mystified by English Rose, and my eyes followed her whenever she left the office in a day or two I found out she had an older sister working in the department, and 2 things I found out about her were that her name was Doreen and she lived in a small town quite a distance from Nottingham. I cannot remember how I managed to get my first date, but I think her sister must have had a hand in it, she must have noticed my interest in my English Rose. Doreen must have thought I was a bit of alright because we started to go out regular.
The next thing in our relationship was the introduction to both sets of parents. Doreen’s family was first off the list. Although I had usually been smartly dressed after being in the army, I took a bit longer this particular Saturday. Doreen was the 12th child of the family. Only one brother remained, as her oldest brother had been killed in the retreat to Dunkirk. Her dad was a retired coal miner, and he gave me a good look up and down. I must have passed the test of me going out with his youngest daughter because he became really friendly. I think the sister who worked with us had put a good word in for me. The following Saturday, when I met her at the bus in Nottingham, I wondered if she would get on with my dad, who was a bigger joker than I am, and naturally, was this girl good enough for a mummy's boy.
By early 1951 our thoughts were turning to marriage. The 22nd of December 1951 was my proudest moment as English Rose became my wife and we were going to live with my parents.
We put our names down on the housing list, which was running about five years to receive one. In 1954 we decided to start a family, and one weekend the first move was made, resulting in another proud day. Stephen Malcom, 8 lb 8 oz, was born on 7th March 1955. The nurses called him Piggy because he was always hungry.
All was going well until September, when my father passed away from a heart attack the week after his birthday. I was working the night shift that week and woke to hear my mother screaming that my dad had passed away. I managed to find a neighbour close by who helped me carry Dad into the house. About a year later, my sister arranged for her to go to Australia.
We were still getting letters saying how much better off we would be in Australia. Then we had a hard decision to make, do we take the family into consideration or do we take Stephen’s and any other children we might have in the future lives into consideration? I had a sister with four children whose husband had a problem with his hands which would not let him into Australia, and Doreen had all her family. After many sleepless nights, it was decided our children must come first. To this day, we have never regretted our decision.
We added another 10 lb 10 oz son and a 9 lb daughter in future years. Stephen had a job with the government and, later on, transferred to Canberra and worked his way up to a good position. His first overseas posting was to the Embassy in Tokyo, and he was there for four years. Ian, our second son, was in the RAAF for 17.5 years until a stupid accident finished his career. He had twins, a boy and a girl. Denise became a housewife with two children, and there has been a supply of grandchildren and great-grandchildren.
In 1996, we decided we would have a trip back to the UK to see Doreen’s family. Doreen had lost both parents in earlier years, so this gave us the chance to put some floral tributes on their grave.
In 1997, disaster struck. Doreen had taken the next-door neighbour's young girl to the theatre. I asked how she went on, and she said about halfway through the show, a funny feeling had come over her for about 2 mins which she could not explain to me, so I rang the doctors to make an appointment for Sunday morning. Doreen’s regular doctor was not sitting that day, so she was examined and questioned by his partner, who, when he had finished, went to phone Doreen’s doctor. Both doctors had agreed that she should be admitted to the hospital as soon as possible. After many tests and taking specimens from Doreen’s right lung, they confirmed she had small cell cancer in the right lung, inoperable and incurable. They gave her seven months, eight months if she was lucky, and when she had gotten over being told, she said, ‘Well, I am not going to bloody die.’ After about two weeks, her lung completely collapsed, and she was relying on one lung to keep her going for the rest of her life.
Whilst she was in hospital, they gave her three doses of the strongest chemo they had. After that, for a while, she had to go every day for a ray to be focused on a black spot they had tattooed on her chest. The biggest problem was each visit was at a different time every day. Then one day, she woke up, and nearly all of her hair was lying on her pillow. I guess one of the hardest things we had to do was tell our thirteen-year-old that her mother was seriously ill and that we could lose her. The two boys were old enough to handle the situation better. I still had to go to work as we were still paying our house off. I used to count the months off, and when I reached 10, I saw a glimmer of hope begin to appear gradually.
The years slipped by, and about seven months before my retirement age, I was made redundant. They were going to put a computer system through the office, and they thought it would be cheaper to get rid of me than to train me. Not knowing how long I still had with Doreen, we took an 8-week trip to Stephen and his family, who was working at the embassy in Santiago, Chile.
We also had two visits to China, where Stephen had two separate three-year postings. This led to 2015, when Doreen was discovered to have bowel cancer. They could not operate as the previous cancer had left so many side effects. All they could do was give her tablets for the pain. All I could do was make her comfortable and as happy as possible.
Each day I saw a petal drop off my English Rose, and then at 2 o’clock one morning, she woke up and said to me ‘Dennis, do you think it is time for me to go to the hospital?’ Then I knew this was the beginning of the end. This was the first time I had seen her give in. I called for an ambulance, and she spent three days in the hospital before being taken to the respite clinic for patients' last days.
I went in early one morning, and when I walked into her room, her face was black and blue and looked as though she had been beaten up. I gave her a kiss and then went in a tearing rage to the nurse station to see what had happened. A nurse on her rounds had found her on the floor, trapped between the bed and wall. God knows how long she had been lying there. I wanted to know why the side of the bed rails were not raised and was told they were not allowed to raise them because people tried to climb out of their beds.
On the 8th of December, whilst the doctors were giving Doreen her daily inspection, the doctor called me over and said, ‘Dennis, I am sorry to say, but it is going to be sooner rather than later’. As the 22nd of December was the date of our 65th wedding anniversary, I slipped out of the room to find the lady who handled all the Christian things and arranged for Doreen and I to repeat our wedding vows at 10 o’clock on Friday morning.
At about 10 o’clock at night on the 8th, I heard a knock on the front door and knew the news was not going to be good. My grandson was standing on the doorstep with his girlfriend and, on entering the house and after asking how I was, said, ‘Pop, Nanna passed away at 8:45,’ and he had come to take me to the clinic.
On arriving, I found most of my family there, and after greeting them, I went to Doreen’s room with tears streaming down my face. I gave her one long farewell kiss and looked at her face. She looked so peaceful; all pain had seemed to have left her, and I said to myself, Doreen, wherever you finish up, my English Rose would bloom again.
Note from the editor: In honour of Doreen, we have also included a beautiful poem Dennis wrote.
Postscript to poem:
Sadly missed and never forgotten, my English Rose had met her maker.
Firstly, how did you find the SDC?
I came across an article about SDC and instantly tied it into my last job. I became a member and contacted Maddie, and explained what I had done for the last 8 years. And could I help her at all? Somehow this led to the RRJD (R-rated joke of the day) jokes and I managed to provide lots of riddles and a few other things and so we became friends.
Do you have any advice for fellow SDC members?
Words of wisdom from my father! When I started work he said, ‘Son, always do your best, sometimes it might not be good enough but at least you knew you had tried.’ My Mother said to me, ‘Choose your friends carefully because sometimes your best friend turns out to be your worst enemy.’
Now, we would love to hear your story.
Myself and family arrived in this beautiful country as 10 pound poms in 2008.
I was born in Radford, a suburb of Nottingham, in a house which was similar to the ones shown on the TV program Coronation Street. My school life was spent during the war. At 14, my life changed. I joined the Sherwood Foresters Army Cadet BN, I was with them for four years, reaching the rank of Regimental Quartermaster Sergeant. I was going to be the first holder for the Sword Of Honour, but this did not eventuate because I was called up for National Service. With being in the Cadets, I was sent to a special infantry camp for 20 weeks of extensive training in Scotland. When that finished, I was sent to my county regiment which was with the rest of the Midland Brigade at Strensall in Yorkshire.
At 16, I met a girl, Betty, one of two I ever went out with, and we spent as much time together as we could.
I was told I was going back home for ten days on leave and going overseas. As my regiment was in Germany, I thought I would be going there, which was fine as you could get home on leave when it was due. Imagine the shock when I was told I was being transferred to the Royal Warwickshire Regiment, which was part of the Midland Brigade, and with a group of others, we would be going on active service to Jerusalem.
During that leave, I asked Betty if she would like to be engaged to me. She said yes. I spent five months in Jerusalem and we left a day before it became Israel and we crossed the desert by motor transport into Egypt and crossed the Suez Canal, and finished up at a tented camp. The last few weeks in Jerusalem, I had become a Batman to an officer, which was fine as he had to pay me a pound a month to look after him. After six weeks, we were told that we were being dismembered and the company was being removed to the UK and being rebuilt there, and only a few important personnel would return with them. And then, one morning, on company orders, I saw that Brigade HQ was looking for a Batman to go with them to Salonika, Greece. I put my name forward and was accepted, and for the last ten months, I was a Batman to a Roman Catholic Padre who was in the Parachute Regiment and was a perfect gentleman to serve.
Finally came the day I was transported with all my kit back to the UK. We first saw the English shore on Saturday morning and later had a real welcome home, sailing up the Solent to berth at Southampton. The Queen Mary passed us with all the passengers waving. After we berthed, we were taken to a camp to hand all our kit in and have our release papers and a ticket for transport home. I had sent two telegrams from the ship to let my parents and Betty know I would be home. I waited till Sunday evening to see Betty as I knew we would have the house to ourselves. After taking her in my arms and kissing her, I felt something was wrong and put it down to being apart for so long; then she said I have something to tell you, ‘I want to break off the engagement; there is someone else.’ Well, you could have hit me with a brick, and I was speechless. Three weeks later, I saw in the local paper they had married.
It seemed strange that, again, my life was changing. Army life had changed the shape of my body, so some of my old clothes (full of the smell of mothballs) had to be replaced, and this left me in an awkward position. Though the government had stolen 2 years of our lives, they didn’t give us a penny to get established again. All they gave us were the clothes we were wearing; they even took our greatcoats. At the beginning of my army life I had 10 shillings a week taken from my pay and sent to my mother to help them at home, but unbeknownst to me, she had put it in the bank for when the two years were over. I was loath to take it but gradually paid her back when I had a job.
Before his illness—heart trouble—my dad had worked at the Raleigh Bicycle company, and one of the people he played lawn bowls with was a foreman there, so Dad contacted him to see if he could find me a job. He arranged an interview, and when I went for the job, the commissioner at the entrance to the factory took me to the paint department and in the little office was the foreman, under-foreman and a good-looking young lady (little did I know that she would turn out to be my English Rose and my future wife). I had put on my uniform again—which had the Palestine Campaign medal ribbon—thinking it might help me get employed. I got the job of putting coloured lines on bicycle mudguards. The payment was piece work, so the more you did, the more you were paid.
My problem was that I was mystified by English Rose, and my eyes followed her whenever she left the office in a day or two I found out she had an older sister working in the department, and 2 things I found out about her were that her name was Doreen and she lived in a small town quite a distance from Nottingham. I cannot remember how I managed to get my first date, but I think her sister must have had a hand in it, she must have noticed my interest in my English Rose. Doreen must have thought I was a bit of alright because we started to go out regular.
The next thing in our relationship was the introduction to both sets of parents. Doreen’s family was first off the list. Although I had usually been smartly dressed after being in the army, I took a bit longer this particular Saturday. Doreen was the 12th child of the family. Only one brother remained, as her oldest brother had been killed in the retreat to Dunkirk. Her dad was a retired coal miner, and he gave me a good look up and down. I must have passed the test of me going out with his youngest daughter because he became really friendly. I think the sister who worked with us had put a good word in for me. The following Saturday, when I met her at the bus in Nottingham, I wondered if she would get on with my dad, who was a bigger joker than I am, and naturally, was this girl good enough for a mummy's boy.
By early 1951 our thoughts were turning to marriage. The 22nd of December 1951 was my proudest moment as English Rose became my wife and we were going to live with my parents.
We put our names down on the housing list, which was running about five years to receive one. In 1954 we decided to start a family, and one weekend the first move was made, resulting in another proud day. Stephen Malcom, 8 lb 8 oz, was born on 7th March 1955. The nurses called him Piggy because he was always hungry.
All was going well until September, when my father passed away from a heart attack the week after his birthday. I was working the night shift that week and woke to hear my mother screaming that my dad had passed away. I managed to find a neighbour close by who helped me carry Dad into the house. About a year later, my sister arranged for her to go to Australia.
We were still getting letters saying how much better off we would be in Australia. Then we had a hard decision to make, do we take the family into consideration or do we take Stephen’s and any other children we might have in the future lives into consideration? I had a sister with four children whose husband had a problem with his hands which would not let him into Australia, and Doreen had all her family. After many sleepless nights, it was decided our children must come first. To this day, we have never regretted our decision.
We added another 10 lb 10 oz son and a 9 lb daughter in future years. Stephen had a job with the government and, later on, transferred to Canberra and worked his way up to a good position. His first overseas posting was to the Embassy in Tokyo, and he was there for four years. Ian, our second son, was in the RAAF for 17.5 years until a stupid accident finished his career. He had twins, a boy and a girl. Denise became a housewife with two children, and there has been a supply of grandchildren and great-grandchildren.
In 1996, we decided we would have a trip back to the UK to see Doreen’s family. Doreen had lost both parents in earlier years, so this gave us the chance to put some floral tributes on their grave.
In 1997, disaster struck. Doreen had taken the next-door neighbour's young girl to the theatre. I asked how she went on, and she said about halfway through the show, a funny feeling had come over her for about 2 mins which she could not explain to me, so I rang the doctors to make an appointment for Sunday morning. Doreen’s regular doctor was not sitting that day, so she was examined and questioned by his partner, who, when he had finished, went to phone Doreen’s doctor. Both doctors had agreed that she should be admitted to the hospital as soon as possible. After many tests and taking specimens from Doreen’s right lung, they confirmed she had small cell cancer in the right lung, inoperable and incurable. They gave her seven months, eight months if she was lucky, and when she had gotten over being told, she said, ‘Well, I am not going to bloody die.’ After about two weeks, her lung completely collapsed, and she was relying on one lung to keep her going for the rest of her life.
Whilst she was in hospital, they gave her three doses of the strongest chemo they had. After that, for a while, she had to go every day for a ray to be focused on a black spot they had tattooed on her chest. The biggest problem was each visit was at a different time every day. Then one day, she woke up, and nearly all of her hair was lying on her pillow. I guess one of the hardest things we had to do was tell our thirteen-year-old that her mother was seriously ill and that we could lose her. The two boys were old enough to handle the situation better. I still had to go to work as we were still paying our house off. I used to count the months off, and when I reached 10, I saw a glimmer of hope begin to appear gradually.
The years slipped by, and about seven months before my retirement age, I was made redundant. They were going to put a computer system through the office, and they thought it would be cheaper to get rid of me than to train me. Not knowing how long I still had with Doreen, we took an 8-week trip to Stephen and his family, who was working at the embassy in Santiago, Chile.
We also had two visits to China, where Stephen had two separate three-year postings. This led to 2015, when Doreen was discovered to have bowel cancer. They could not operate as the previous cancer had left so many side effects. All they could do was give her tablets for the pain. All I could do was make her comfortable and as happy as possible.
Each day I saw a petal drop off my English Rose, and then at 2 o’clock one morning, she woke up and said to me ‘Dennis, do you think it is time for me to go to the hospital?’ Then I knew this was the beginning of the end. This was the first time I had seen her give in. I called for an ambulance, and she spent three days in the hospital before being taken to the respite clinic for patients' last days.
I went in early one morning, and when I walked into her room, her face was black and blue and looked as though she had been beaten up. I gave her a kiss and then went in a tearing rage to the nurse station to see what had happened. A nurse on her rounds had found her on the floor, trapped between the bed and wall. God knows how long she had been lying there. I wanted to know why the side of the bed rails were not raised and was told they were not allowed to raise them because people tried to climb out of their beds.
On the 8th of December, whilst the doctors were giving Doreen her daily inspection, the doctor called me over and said, ‘Dennis, I am sorry to say, but it is going to be sooner rather than later’. As the 22nd of December was the date of our 65th wedding anniversary, I slipped out of the room to find the lady who handled all the Christian things and arranged for Doreen and I to repeat our wedding vows at 10 o’clock on Friday morning.
At about 10 o’clock at night on the 8th, I heard a knock on the front door and knew the news was not going to be good. My grandson was standing on the doorstep with his girlfriend and, on entering the house and after asking how I was, said, ‘Pop, Nanna passed away at 8:45,’ and he had come to take me to the clinic.
On arriving, I found most of my family there, and after greeting them, I went to Doreen’s room with tears streaming down my face. I gave her one long farewell kiss and looked at her face. She looked so peaceful; all pain had seemed to have left her, and I said to myself, Doreen, wherever you finish up, my English Rose would bloom again.
Note from the editor: In honour of Doreen, we have also included a beautiful poem Dennis wrote.
64 years ago on the 22nd of December
Was an auspicious day to remember
Because I married my wife Doreen
In her wedding dress she looked like a Queen
Doreen wanted the week earlier but was heard to groan
When I told her Nottingham. Forest was playing at home
Three years later on
We were blessed with our eldest son.
In 1958, we left our present home
Off to Australia we did roam
Then the family increased by son no. 2
Then was joined by a sister too
Doreen in her fifties was struck with strife
She was fighting for her life
Diagnosed with small cell cancer of the lung
Her constant battle had begun
Over the years she has proved the doctors wrong
Who at the beginning said she had not long
Medical treatment had the right effect
But left the body with many side effects
Doreen’s ages aim was to reach the age of 55
On the 31st of May 1986 she proudly reached that score
Now each day we take as a bonus
Supported with family around us
Was an auspicious day to remember
Because I married my wife Doreen
In her wedding dress she looked like a Queen
Doreen wanted the week earlier but was heard to groan
When I told her Nottingham. Forest was playing at home
Three years later on
We were blessed with our eldest son.
In 1958, we left our present home
Off to Australia we did roam
Then the family increased by son no. 2
Then was joined by a sister too
Doreen in her fifties was struck with strife
She was fighting for her life
Diagnosed with small cell cancer of the lung
Her constant battle had begun
Over the years she has proved the doctors wrong
Who at the beginning said she had not long
Medical treatment had the right effect
But left the body with many side effects
Doreen’s ages aim was to reach the age of 55
On the 31st of May 1986 she proudly reached that score
Now each day we take as a bonus
Supported with family around us
Postscript to poem:
Sadly missed and never forgotten, my English Rose had met her maker.
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I hope it's not too forward to ask, but how did you cope with her passing? From this alone, we can tell your love for her was immeasurable...
