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I first met my husband, Don, back in 1940. We met when my friend asking me if I wanted to make up a foursome. I worked for Geaters in the drapery department and I found the work quite hard for 13 hours in the summer for about £1.42 per week.

I broke my apprenticeship in 1942 to join the Land Army

When Don came home from abroad we were married in 1945 at Theberton church. My family lived next door to the rectory and the Reverend Watson agreed to marry Don and I.

On the day of the wedding Reverend Watson was feeling unwell. He was rubbing his heart most of the time, and in fact he collapsed just before the ceremony, which caused a delay when we were taking our marriage vows. It was quite worrying. We ordered one of the cars to take him home after the ceremony.

The reception was held at my parents’ house next to the rectory. While we were cutting the wedding cake the local baker’s roundsman called at the house to say that the vicar had dropped down dead when he had got home. Don ran round to see if he could be of any help to his widow. We did the only thing possible; we carried on with the reception. We had to go on our honeymoon without our marriage certificate. We actually made the headlines with the Daily Mirror on the following Monday - ‘Dying vicar vows to marry neighbour’s daughter’.

To conclude this story, we have been married 58 years with four children, six grandchildren and eight great grandchildren; the most recent of which were twins.

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