My mum, Juliet Fay Toussaint, was born on the 9th of March 1931 in London, the second child of Dr Hugh Toussaint and Celia nee Clyne.
They lived in a terraced house in Islington and when the war broke out, their
parents arranged for Juliet and her sister Felicity to move to Sidcot school in Somerset where they completed their secondary education.
Juliet went on to study philosophy at Edinburgh University and followed this
with a degree in Philosophy Politics and Economics at Lady Margaret
Hall Oxford.
After completing her studies, she got teaching work in the adult education sector. In around 1956, she was travelling by train back to
London from the Isle of Sheppey where she was teaching. The story
goes that a dashing young New Zealander charmed her into agreeing
to meet him the following day under the clock at Victoria station
(shades of Brief Encounter!). That handsome Kiwi was my dad, Harry Stowers, and he was actually born and raised in Hoxton, London! Well, he worked his magic and
after only a couple of weeks they were engaged and then married in
1957. It turns out that my dad had been moving to and fro between England
and New Zealand since the end of the second World War. He had lied about
his age and enlisted in the Royal Marines, and in 1940 was sent to Dunkirk
to help with the miraculous evacuation of over 300,000 allied troops.
After the war he couldn't settle down and joined the merchant navy,
which led him to NZ. In total, my dad moved back and forth seven times from
England to New Zealand ... three times with my mum and the last time with
the whole family of five!
My mum sacrificed her academic career teaching Philosophy at the University of York to follow my dad's restless wanderings, and was
at different times a librarian, shop keeper, Open University tutor and English
language teacher. She was always fiercely loyal and devoted to my dad, and
it was a massive blow when he died unexpectedly of a heart attack in
1996. Tragedy struck again in 2010 when my younger sister Cath
succumbed to a horrible form of diabetes, and yet again in 2014 when my
older brother Michael died of heart failure.
Despite these appalling losses, she always displayed great inner strength and equanimity. Since her passing, I have received many
messages recalling her kindness, selflessness and stoicism. Her core
values were founded on genuine concern for the weaker and more vulnerable members
of society. This was evident when I took over her finances a few months
ago and saw that she has been quietly donating a significant proportion of
her modest retirement income to worthy causes including Crisis, Shelter,
Amnesty International and Medicines Sans Frontières. Even in her final
days, having suffered a major stroke and barely able to talk, she
continued to greet her carers with her trademark "How are you? ...
are you alright?".
I ask you to join with me in celebrating Juliet's life and praying that she may be reunited with her beloved husband Harry and her children Cath and Michael.