Richmond Bridge

I've been crossing Richmond Bridge all my life.

Photo: Richmond Bridge by Chris Neale

My Mother moved here when she was ten, they lived in a flat over the shops, at the bottom of the bridge. 

My Nan, Irene Papworth, lived there, for the rest of her days.

My Uncle, my Aunt and my cousins, lived in the flat below my Nan's, and In 1982, having persuaded my Mum that it was in her best interest to separate from my Dad... I drove her, returning here, once more to Richmond. In April, after losing her partner, I also came here, as it was now my turn, to look out for her.

My Nan Irene, died in 1989. I sat with her, every evening for a week in the Princess Alice Hospice at Esher... until she finally, Crossed The Bridge.

Irene was a colourful character, well known and loved, locally. She was always giggling and could often be found, in the local pub, standing on a table singing! She was in service as a seamstress, in the early days... employed by the aristocracy, close to the Royal Family. She travelled the world with them to places like Egypt, I remember an ivory crocodile she returned with from there.

Years later, she worked for and was close to William Blezard and his family. Blezard, a talented pianist and composer was musical director to Noël Coward, Marlene Dietrich and Joyce Grenfell. He also later worked for the BBC... and my Nan even appeared once with Pookie Blezard, his daughter, on 'Play School', a popular BBC children's TV programme.

My Nan and Grandad's marriage ended when I was very young and although very popular with the gentlemen, Irene remained single having never found her true soul mate.

There's a tale about my Nan which really sums her up, which I shall now tell:

One day, towards the end of her life, Nan failed to arrive home. My Mum got a call from a worried neighbour, when she finally turned up, looking quite dishevelled, this conversation followed:

"Where were you last night then?" Mum enquired. Irene let out that infectious giggle of hers. 

Irene Papworth (née Monks) 1905-1989
Peace be with you.

"Well, I was in the pub... and I must have had a few too many"

"Yes?"

" ... and I was walking home, past the graveyard... and I fell in the hedge..." (more giggles).

" ... and I couldn't get out again!" 

"So, I thought bugger it, and stayed there for the night!"

My Nan, who was in her eighties, had spent the night in a hedge in the graveyard at Richmond... and was obviously, quite content to do so.

William Blezard Obituary