The Autobiography of Tricia Priestley

I am including the background history of both my grandmothers as I feel it is relevant to their roles in the circumstances that existed at the time. Both were Londoners. Both had immigrant heritage from Germany and Ireland but their backgrounds contrasted to the extent that they viewed the world very differently.

My maternal grandmother was Mary Fink of German-Irish ancestry, born in 1882. Her grandfather, George Fink (c.1840) was an immigrant who found work as a ‘sugar baker’ in London’s East End, now the Isle of Dogs in the Poplar, Tower Hamlets area. He married a young woman named Ellen Sheen from Cork in Ireland, we guess to escape the potato famine. One of their sons, John Fink, Mary’s father, remained in London working on the docks during the late 19th-20th centuries.

Mary was one of 5 sisters, Ellen, Kate, Sarah and Adelaide being the other four. She married Robert McKee from Antrim and had 7 children, 2 of whom died, one stillborn and the other of TB at 16. My grandfather died when my mother was only 3 years old and by all accounts this was linked to drinking as he worked for a brewery. I have no memory of my mother speaking about her father or her grandfather at all – although her grandfather lived until 1926 when she was around 10 years old. We only heard that she had been brought up by her mother and the female influence was strong in this household although she had 2 older brothers.

I have brief memories of Mary, my ‘Nanna’ from the age of about 3-4 when we lived with her as a family with my aunt and cousin in a newly built council house in Harrow, Middlesex. They had been rehoused after the war after the devastation from bombing in the East End and this was where my parents met when both families lived next door to each other.

My mother told me many stories about East End life but mainly that they had to struggle during the hard years of WW1, the twenties and thirties. They had a stillborn child and Mum was named after her, Molly. The Catholic Church was important to them and their Irish ancestry remained an influence which I believe helped them, gave them a purpose and allowed them to enjoy their lives despite the hardships. (I think Karl Marx described religion as the ‘opium of the people’ and I think that might be true!)

I was 9 years old when Mary Mckee died and we had moved to nearby Bushey. I know we saw her for family gatherings and weekend visits although none of those specifically come to mind. I have intermittent flashes of memory involving her when we lived in Harrow. I know from my Mum that she had spent time with me reading nursery rhymes and I apparently learned them well and started to read at about 3 or 4 years of age. I can remember her smiling and her kind demeanour towards me in some memories, however brief. There was a piano in the house played by my aunt and I have an impression that the house was a happy one. Another specific memory of the house was when my grandmother picked up a burning coal that had fallen from the fire onto the rug and quickly returned it to the grate. Another involves doing the family wash in the kitchen with a washboard and mangle. I seem to remember being fascinated by this and helping to put the washing through the mangle.

I suppose the relationship became distant as we had limited contact with both grandmothers once we had moved away. Although we only lived a few miles away, visits mainly depended on public transport so were limited to holidays and other major celebrations.

My earliest memories of both my mother’s and father’s families involved a lot of humour, banter, togetherness. Although I am now analysing my past feelings, I have impressions that I felt as a child that these older members gave off very positive energy and love no matter what happened.

I don’t remember arguments and they indulged me and my siblings with much care and warmth. They demonstrated that they valued us as additions to their families.