The Stevens family's friendship with Rose began in the dark days of the Second World War.  Our father owned a rose nursery in Cheshunt called Rosedale, which was turned over to vegetables, tomatoes and cucumbers, for what I believe was called The War Effort.  The large workforce was depleted by many of the men being called up and their places were taken by a group of Land Army Girls - one of whom turned out to be a Miss Rose Howard who came from the East End of London to do her bit.

Well she certainly did do her bit, and when War ended she stayed on to become Queen of the Nursery Canteen, looking after the peacetime workforce, which then consisted of  British, Italians, Poles and Germans, a melting-pot if there ever was one.  As well as making teas and coffees and heating people's lunches in the midday break, Rose was in charge of a flock of hens and a closed paddock of rabbits, as well as growing vegetables for the freezer, a job I used to help her with on Saturday mornings and in the school summer holidays.  Rose I do remember was much amused by the rabbits and their amazing ability to produce so many babies in such remarkably quick time.  Remember she was what would now be called a Townie!  She soon learned, and taught me a bit too!  

Rosedale Nursery was compulsorily purchased in 1968 and everyone dispersed. My parents moved to the Isle of Wight with Mr. Hall and his family to start another small rose and carnation nursery, the Island light being perfect for the growing of flowers.  We lost track of Rose until some point in the '70s or '80s, when to my father's delight she agreed to become the tenant of 364 Claremont Cottages, in Goffs Oak, where she spent the rest of her life.

My parents loved Rose.  She was all the good old fashioned things to them that they completely understood.  Whenever they came back to Hertfordshire from  the Island first and then Eastbourne later, their first stop would always be with Rose, to see how she fared, to have the use of her loo, and be offered a reviving cup of coffee or tea, or better still a little drop of whisky.  Frequently both!  They would chat and laugh about the old days, bandying memories, memorable occasions, family update and names of old friends, Messrs Tivvy, Cracknell, Warner and Wisby and Mrs. Cell in particular, and dear Kasimir who was her neighbour and reared chickens and bees.  There was always a pot of honey ready for visitors from Kasimir, with a bow of the head and a kiss of the hand in his marvellously unmistakeable  Polish way. We children adored him.


Our Parents died in the '90's, so my sister Veronica and I picked up the baton and would make  flying visits to Rose when passing, or especially to see her, and our annual pre-Christmas lunches in the pub in Newgate Street with Rose and three other old-timers were memorable for their good humour, fun and enjoyment of shared memories.  All four of them gone now, Rose the last, intrepid, funny Rose, whose life in these last years was made so special for her by her team of Sandy, Gil and Jo.

I certainly believe it to be a truism, that what you give out in life, you get back.  Rose gave laughter and love in bucketfuls during her lifetime, and I know she will be so happily remembered..