Our great-grandmother, Lily Wilson Borrowman, was our Granny Borrowman’s mother. Born in Ireland, she lived most of her life in St. Catharines’ Ontario, except for a period of time in Toronto and four years homesteading in Alberta. Her husband, Adam’s family had settled in Whitby upon arriving in Canada, and it seems she was a fairly frequent visitor there. She was part of a large family and had many nieces and nephews.

Between 1878 and 1897, she collected autographs and sentiments in an album, somewhat sporadically, to be sure, but the collection reflects her various homes, friends and relatives.

About a dozen of the fifty-five entries are undated; among the others, the earliest is from December 1877, written by her sister-in-law Lizzie (Elizabeth Borrowman) in Whitby, Ontario. It reads:

 “A Wish

I wish that happiness may fling

Her golden sunbeams round thy path

And hide thee ‘neath her downy wing

Till life’s rough storms away have passed.”

Some of the entries include sketches, either in black and white or coloured.  Lily’s other sister-in-law, Louisa, was an artist and an art teacher – her pencil sketch of fuchsia blossoms is quite lovely. It is dated September 1^st, 1880, in Whitby.

Lily’s husband wrote in her book, adapting a poem by Alaric A. Watts, “Home,” sharing his sentiments about their happy and blessed home. I find it bittersweet, as it is dated between the death of their first-born child, John, in 1879 and the birth of our Granny in 1881.

Adam may have misremembered some of the words, but he didn’t have Mr. Google to remind him, as I do, and those he did include are a lovely message for his “dear wife,” Lily.

Nearly ten years later, as the family prepared to depart Toronto for the West, Lily’s pastor Alex Macgillivray, (serving at Bonar Presbyterian Church, and also a close neighbour on Brock St.) wrote an encouraging and apt message for her, mere weeks before they arrived on their land near Red Deer:

Although many of the entries are religious in nature, or feature quotations of inspiring poetry, her younger brother claimed the back page of her book early on, writing in a more humorous vein:

 “Last but not least

“Tis always my fate

Below you will find

My name and the date.

February 17/79

Harper Wilson

It is something quite special to hold this book, obviously treasured for many years by Lily, knowing all these different relatives of ours also held it. To read their words, to see their signatures and drawings, is to reach lightly into the past to meet each of them, if only for a moment.

I’m a day late, (mostly because of being treated so well by my children and grandchildren on Mother’s Day) but feeling no less admiration and love for my own mother, Carroll Burch. I know my sisters are the principal readers of these stories, and they need no extra information, but here are a few details for other readers:

Margaret Edith Carroll Borrowman was born in Winnipeg, Manitoba, July 3, 1921. She had two protective older brothers but still managed to enjoy swimming, diving, tennis and cycling, and was an excellent student.

She was educated at public schools in Winnipeg, then studied Physiotherapy at the University of Toronto, graduating at the head of her class in 1942.

She met our Dad while at university — he came to Georgina House, the women’s residence where she was staying, to speak to the young women there. They were engaged six weeks later and married in August 1942. Carroll’s parents didn’t even meet him until he arrived in Winnipeg for the wedding!

Then followed decades of loving her husband, her daughters, and her church; of helping others, of hospitality and creativity, of gardening, travelling, knitting, sewing, singing and caring.

Mum was able to refresh her physiotherapy studies after Dad retired and enjoyed many years working in her chosen field. They had been married for nearly fifty-three years when Carroll died in 1995. There is so much more I could say of the wonderful woman our Mum was, and I still miss her so much.

Best mother one could ever hope to have and a great blessing in my life–I wish I could give her a big Mother’s Day hug.

The story, as I remember it being told to me:

The family of William and Hannah (Dougan) Wilson, of Markethill, near Newry, Armagh, [Northern] Ireland, was a large one; Jane, the eldest was born in 1826, then seven boys and two more girls, the youngest born 11 October 1847. By the time she came along, her oldest sister was working away from home, it is said as a cook in France. When Jane received word of the arrival of her new sister, she wrote back that the name “Lily” was all the rage, and the perfect choice for the baby; also that she would acquire a fine gown for her christening, in lace handmade by nuns.

Upon the baby being presented to the minister (strict Presbyterian that he was), and the name Lily being requested, he replied, “There’s nae such name as Lily in the Bible – she shall be Elizabeth!” and so she was baptised as Elizabeth. However, she went by Lily all her life. Lily was the first one to wear the fine christening gown sent by Jane, but not the last.

This photo (above) of Lily Wilson Borrowman’s gown shows it to be of fine cotton lawn, richly embroidered white on white, with a pointed waist, and long pointed gauntlet sleeves and a very long skirt, in spite of it being a very small sized dress.

The Wilson family left Ireland when Lily was still a baby, and settled in St. Catharines, Ontario. When Lily married Adam Borrowman and started her own family, her eldest child, a daughter named Edith, was baptised wearing this gown in 1881 in St. Catharines, Ontario. Edith’s daughter, Carroll Borrowman, wore it too, in Winnipeg in 1921, as did Carroll’s three youngest Burch daughters, Elizabeth and Jeanne at St. Luke’s, Winnipeg and Katherine at All Saints, Windsor.

The next generation of wearers included my own dear daughter, Karen Hubbard, who was baptised by her grandfather at the cathedral in Edmonton; Peggy’s daughter Sarah Wilmot, in Winnipeg and Jeannie’s two eldest children, Graham and Alexis Barr, in Edmonton. Yet another generation saw two more users of this gown, Eleanor and Muireall Daley, in Ottawa.

Our family also had a second, slightly larger christening gown, that had been used for our Dad’s baptism at Holy Trinity in Winnipeg on 9 April 1911. Subsequent wearers of this one included Peggy, my son Michael, Jeannie’s youngest, Grant, and our cousin Barbara (Borrowman) McGrenere’s son Graham.

Most of these names were recorded on the lid of the box in which our mother stored the gown, an old Hudson’s Bay dress box. She carefully noted the names and dates – at least the year– of each use, although no locations. When I took custody of the dresses, I purchased an acid-free storage box and tissue paper, to help preserve them for future uses. I cut out the top of the box to keep.

All told, the uses that I know of have spanned 160 years and the gown itself is oer 175 years old! I think it is very special to have access to something this precious, that has been valued by so many generations of our family. The dresses can be very carefully hand-washed, with gentle soap, hung to dry out of direct light and pressed with a warm iron. Perhaps someday, they could be placed in an appropriate museum with this information about provenance and usage.

My great-grandfather, Adam Borrowman spent the majority of his working life as a retail clerk or manager of one sort or another, beginning in Whitby, Ontario, as a newly-arrived 17-year old from Scotland. Later, after moving to St. Catharines, he worked in a department store owned by relatives, but after his marriage and the birth of my Granny, they moved to Toronto. Here, in 1881, Adam acquired a business as an importer of fine china and glassware, Staffordshire House on Yonge Street.

Eight or nine years later he was running a small grocery store on Brock Street.

Then, rather suddenly it seems, the family upped stakes and moved West to take up a homestead in central Alberta! I remember asking my Granny about this, and if they had travelled by covered wagon to their new home. She was quite indignant that I should think she was that old (but I did!) and informed me that they took the train nearly the whole way. Indeed, the CPR was well-established in Alberta by this time and had just completed a line between Edmonton and Calgary in 1891.

In the spring of 1892, Adam, his wife Lily, my granny Edith (eleven) and her two younger brothers Wilson (seven) and Harper (five) arrived at their unbroken quarter section east of Red Deer, near Pine Lake. Over the next four years, they accomplished so much! Adam’s 1896 application for title to his land details the changes: 2 ¼ acres broken in 1892, five acres in each of 1893 and 1894, with all twelve acres under cultivation by the last year. (Just for comparison, one acre is about the size of six city lots in Bells Corners.) They had one cow and one horse in 1892, but by 1895 had nine cattle and four horses. They built a house for themselves, fourteen by twenty-four feet, as well as a stable, hen house, granary and pig pen and added a mile of fencing and two corrals.

I have the remnants of one letter written during this time, faded, brittle and missing some bits, not surprising since it’s 130 years old. It is dated Red Deer, Sept. 5, 1892, but the salutation is missing. It is presumably to a family member back in St. Catharines, and it is in Lily’s handwriting. There are two sheets of paper, folded in half, then in thirds. It has been so well-read that it has separated on many of the folds; two segments are fragmented and two are missing entirely, one from each sheet. but the words which remain manage to convey an interesting snapshot of pioneer life for the Borrowman family in 1892. Here’s one of the fragile pages:

And here is what the letter had to say, though the missing bits make some parts hard to follow:   

     Red Deer

     Sept. 5th/92

— had the–

Gorin’s plaster–

send one in case he might req–

starts to chop logs. The shamrock ~–

three other plants are doing well. On–

for them. Edith hopes that you will —

some flower seeds. We have to–

would they grow from seed. We –white frost Thursday & Friday night. nipped the tops of potatoes. hope it will keep off for a while –~he will have much crop

[2    missing section]

3  two boys have gone for a —

of hay. I can see the hay

rack half a mile off on the

hill outlined against the

sky. It looks strange as if it

were up in the air. A. has cut

the “slews” a mile from home

because the grass was so high

4-5 

in them. it is easier to [dry] than to cut. The one slew he ex-

pects 5 tons off. the other above three the largest one is a lovely

spot about 20 ft. down the ~– surrounded with trees it seems

like a small lake. The—high as the childrens heads

I drove down to — berries. We always take something

to eat. Wilson—his Father tramps the hay in the

6-7 (6 entirely missing, so only have right-hand part of each line)

–helps for they are both so willing

–y had dinner let “Billy” rest too

–the spring at Waltons to water.

–to water. takes the cow in the

— ~ and brings her home in the

–her Father. just now she has gone

–~saskatoons for tea. We are all

–pink sunbonnet as she entered

–any thing. Wilson is more tired

–over where she is wooded all

8-9 

around. the nicest place to hang a hammock. I have canned

a lot of the berries. they are about the size & color of blueberries

firmer and richer in taste. a little like black cherries in flavor

We are drying some too. The prairie fires went over this place in the

spring. I believe that accounts for the lack of other fruit this season

in some localities small fruits are abundant. The children dis-

covered a few raspberry trees with nice sized fruit on also an odd

currant, gooseberry, cherry &c. Adam says he enjoys the work of course, every

10 -11-12

minute is occupied but he is

his own master. He sees a great

deal to do. at present we are living

and likely to be, in the storehouse

part of our barn. the barn is 40 ft.

long by 14 wide. the largest part for

store house, one small window ~

A. will dig well as soon as he gets

hey in. Our cow is doing very

well. I have put down 30 lbs of

butter for winter as the cow will

go dry about xmas, and at pres-

ent we do not see our way to buy

another. We could get 25› per lb for

butter in RD and it is going up.

“Billy” has earned more then A.

paid for him, but he has to be 

careful of him and the first win-

ter is hard on Ontario horses

the cow A. bought at Brandon

We have only the three hens & a

rooster we brought with us the hens

are game and would not sit and we

could not borrow one to set for us.

one he has just started to lay now, have

13-14-15 

found six eggs in the willows near

the barn. A says he will let her set

if she will. Last week A. was into R.D.

on Monday. took “Billy”. Morrison went

and took his oxen brought out

–of our things charged A 1$  

We have a lot of things in an–

round house yet as we did not —

any place to store them have not

been able to sell our parlor set yet.

I had such a comforting letter

from Aunt McL. at Shaw [?] Lake

last week. I had written her asking

how they managed. she told me

just how they done. And said

at first they had it hard enough

but now they could sit down to a

table fit for the Gov Gen. she

writes in good spirits. says she

wishes she was only near enough

to drive over and see us ad-

vised us to take up all the different wild

berries and set them in a garden

as they had done then we would

have a supply at hand. also I w—

16-17    

write to Angus McKay and he —

sacks of seeds from the farm. Bob has 60 acres of wheat–

looks after the garden. they moved into their new house–

Jack and a Mr. McBean have an office in Calgary. ~–

they are doing well. Well, we h–e good appetites.

explain ~ and not much ~  The fresh air seems—

18-19    

–sh for it. A has just had one headache about three weeks ago

He went into R.D. Hired Morrison’s oxen $1.00 per day. took E & W

as they wanted new boots. had a good deal of business to see too

it rained some was late leaving. headache coming on. got as far as

Trimble’s half way. Stopped there Mrs. T. invited them to stop all

night. A. went to bed, children had their supper. one of the sons put

up the oxen. they have nine children. servant-girl. only twelve of

a family so two or three did not make much difference. Mrs. T.

very kind to them all. Mr. T. had family prayers after breakfast. Mrs. T.

sent me a kind invitation to come an——–people

20-21     (21 missing entirely, so only have left-hand part of each line)

we had never seen. that is the hospi–

in and whatever they have is sha–

well. he has taken up a  sec.n the–

up sections they make 100 lbs–

We had our first Indian visitors–

had been rainy and he could–

~ each seen some horses coming

–an Indian, a squaw, on horseb—

22-23

–they were — coming

–shack so A went over and

–turn. a few drops came

–asked them to come

–some Bread. ~

and walk to drink. the squaw went

out to her horses. the Indian remained

in. A and the children went with

the squaw. she could talk a little

English and Edith had picked

up some Indian words when in at R.D.

Everett Martin had taken her to an

Indian encampment. the Indian

could not speak any English. put up

his hands on his head like horns to

shew us the ~ making strange—

24 — entirely missing, no signature, but it is Lily’s handwriting

By July 1896, Adam had “proved up” his homestead and fulfilled all the requirements to gain title to his 160 acres. Local newspapers advertised the sale of farm goods in October and the family returned to St. Catharines. Perhaps the pioneer life had been too hard on their health (Lily died just four years later) or perhaps they were concerned about educational opportunities for the children. At any rate, he resumed his occupation as a grocer until his death in 1911.

When I was very small, at Victoria Beach, I loved to watch people fishing off the pier. I could wait pretty patiently for a bite, and it was so exciting to see the older boys (it was always boys!) reel in their catch. I knew that my Grandpa was a fisherman, and I yearned to have him take me fishing. I noticed an offer on the back of a cereal box for a full fishing kit, and I managed to persuade my mother to help me send away for it. Of course, we had to eat our way through a certain number of boxes of cereal for the required box tops first, and there may have been some cash involved as well. Finally, my parcel arrived at the little VB post office, and I assembled my fishing rod. It was disappointingly small and flimsy and likely would never have caught a real fish, but my Grandpa took me along down to the pier to try it out anyway, a happy day indeed.

Then, when I was about five, I visited my godmother, Evelyn Best (“Mummy Best”) and her husband at their cottage near Petersfield, (about an hour from Victoria Beach) for several days. Again, I was keen to try fishing, this time in the lazy river passing by their cottage, Netley Creek. One morning I found, to my great delight, that overnight a careless fish had managed to get itself hooked on my rod! I thought I must have left the worm dangling in the water overnight, and I was so pleased with this outcome. It was not until many years later that I discovered that “Daddy Best” had found a recently-deceased catfish on the shoreline and had staged my success. Rather than being disappointed by the revelation, I just appreciated what a loving gesture that had been.

When we lived in Windsor, I was drawn to the Detroit River, just two short blocks from our house. I would tie a string to a stick, attach a worm to a safety pin, and dangle it in the swift waters. I’m sure I never caught anything, but I enjoyed trying! You can never tell what’s going to happen beneath the surface of the water, can you?

I did have more success fishing at Lake Edith, as the lake was stocked annually with rainbow trout, a delicious species. The cottage had some old rods and reels available to me, and a sturdy rowboat. I enjoyed the peaceful early mornings alone on the lake, with wisps of mist rising from the glassy surface as the morning sun climbed up behind Signal Mountain. A piece of firewood sufficed to dispatch my catch humanely. Of course, I had to clean the fish myself before Mum would cook them, but I found that to be interesting, seeing what was inside them. I had my own fish knife and wasn’t squeamish about it at all.

As a teenager, I enjoyed having pet fish in an aquarium, which expanded to two, and then three tanks. At last, I could see what was going on underwater! I still enjoy watching aquarium occupants as well as eating their larger relatives, especially salmon and trout.

Vintage magazines can make for very interesting reading! The October 1920 issue of The Ladies’ Home Journal, which cost 20 cents, contained 212 pages filled with short stories, essays, fashion, home and garden advice and advertisements. These included still-familiar items such as Ivory Soap or Cream of Wheat as well as long-gone ones like the Electric Laundress (Cleans Two Ways!), the Victrola and many styles of corsets. I found a copy of this issue here.

My Granny, Edith Borrowman, was perusing her copy and came across a poem by Alfred Noyes with a reproduction of the vivid painting by William G. Krieghoff which had inspired it. This painting, entitled The Burning Boughs, was extolled by the Tribune journalist as quoted in my post of March 26, 2023.

Granny contacted the artist about acquiring the painting for her home and a correspondence ensued. I do not have Granny’s letters, only the replies that she received. Here is the first one, and my transcription of it, in which he says the painting is not available, but that he could paint a similar, larger one for her:

A second letter followed about a month later, explaining that he did have the original after all, and quoting a price for it, unframed. I love the reference to her sending him photos of her “sturdy son”!

However, unbeknownst to Granny, our Grandpa, Leroy Borrowman, had also been in correspondence with the artist, William G. Krieghoff, to acquire the painting as a surprise Christmas gift for his wife.

Here is the artist’s reply:

Clearly from this reply, Grandpa had asked for Mr. Krieghoff’s discretion in keeping his plan a secret from Granny. Notice that the letter is addressed to Grandpa’s place of work, his construction company.

This next letter shows that Grandpa has indeed purchased and paid for the painting, and had instructed the artist to ship it to his mother’s home address in Minneapolis, Minnesota. (Perhaps a Christmas visit was planned?) Mr. Krieghoff took the liberty of having it framed and also enclosed a second (deceptive) letter to be shown to Granny, regretting that the painting was no longer available; he hopes the subterfuge will ultimately appeal to her sense of humour! Seems it was a good thing Grandpa committed to the purchase when he did, as the poet who had been so inspired by it had also written, eager to own the original.

And here follows the letter suggesting that he had sold it to the poet, which was to be shown to Granny, no doubt to her great disappointment:

The final piece of correspondence is Mr. Krieghoff’s acknowledgement of receipt of the returned frame, which was apparently not to our grandparents’ taste.

All these letters together provide an interesting record of the provenance of the painting.

I can just picture Granny’s surprise and delight that Christmas when she did, in fact, receive The Burning Boughs. It graced her mantlepiece in Winnipeg for the rest of her life and is now much appreciated in my sister Jeanne’s home in Edmonton.

When my sisters and I were children, our birthday cakes were always served on a special plate, reserved for just that purpose. It depicts a scene of ducks flying over marshland, against a cloudy sky, with the various parts of the picture raised and contoured. As it also has plate-hook holes on the reverse side, I don’t think it was ever meant to be used for food. Perhaps it was the most appropriate-sized plate our mother had available and was special simply because it was only used for these festive occasions.

Our birthday cakes contained little treasures, usually small-denomination coins, wrapped in waxed paper.  If it was a layer cake, they would be nestled in the filling, but if it was a tall cake like a chiffon, Mum would slip a knife into the side of the cake before icing it and insert the coins at appropriate intervals so that most people would receive one. Hopefully, the birthday girl got the best coin! To that end, I think the picture plate helped with remembering where the treats were placed. I remember instructions like, “No, start cutting just here,”  with the plate facing the server.

Mum told me this plate was a wedding gift from William and Gwen Nutter, the parents of Alex Nutter. Alex, who was just six months older than Mum, had been her sweetheart before the war. He served on the destroyer, H.M.S. Jupiter, as an ordinary seaman in the Royal Canadian Naval Volunteer Reserve and was killed on active-duty 25 January 1941. His name appears on panel 8 of the majestic Halifax Memorial, which honours over 3000 Canadians buried at sea and also on page 40 of the Second World War Book of Remembrance, which is displayed in the Memorial Chamber of the Peace Tower.

The plate itself is displayed in my dining room, serving as my own small memorial of Alex, and our young mother’s grief, but it is also a reminder of prairie sloughs and the delight of hearing returning waterfowl and the hope that springs anew each year, and of course, of many happy birthdays past.

The Tribune article continued to describe other finds and treasures in Edith Borrowman’s home, most of which are now appreciated in one or another of her grandchildren’s homes. It is lovely to know where each item has come from and to know its story before passing it to yet another generation. Art, flowers, light–all these are important to each of us today, too.

“The visitor crosses a small hall to a big living room — with windows west and south–which rises up three steps to the garden room beyond. All dull golds and soft greys this room is, with Mrs. Borrowman’s favorite color, flame, for the accent. “We built it around the painting over the fireplace, because I have a passion for Ontario maples.” It is William Krieghoff’s The Burning Boughs. The poet Alfred Noyes coveted it as well as Mrs. Borrowman. He wrote a poem to it, a copy of which is pasted to the back of a small reproduction of the picture, which hangs in another room. The line “And the clouds of the sunset burn on the maple bough,” describes the painting and the room. Grandmother’s brass candlesticks brought from Scotland in a sailing vessel stand one each side of The Burning Boughs.

“The house-finder loved another spot; the little walnut desk with its pot of pussy willows and the boxed framed daguerreotypes on the wall behind and Marie Guest’s painting of silvery crocuses. The pot was lovely: grey green, with a frog’s head in relief, as he reached out to put a hand on a lily pad. “Simple jars with dull surfaces are right for flowers,” says Mrs. Borrowman, “but they’re hard to get.”

The Famous Wolseley Elm

“Number 1192 is opposite the famous Wolseley elm in the middle of the road. “That’s one reason we chose this site.” The times were recalled when the axe had threatened it and the community had risen up. Eighteen years ago, when they built the house, the family got to know little Mrs. Good, who lived opposite, the planter of the tree during the 1850’s.

“Sit down here, look!” invited the beauty-lover. Bits of ice were sliding lazily eastward. You felt dazed and happy: you were on the river, gliding, going nowhere. At your feet lay a little grey hooked rug with roses in it. A beautiful, quilted spread “done by a girlhood chum” was brought out. Sweet peas made a garland. There were blankets on the sunroom roof where the son and daughter were doing their university studying.

“Then down for tea by the fire, where tight-rolled logs of newspaper gave off colored flames. “I dip them in a solution.” You must sit on the grey chesterfield a moment to see the westward sky. “Mr. Fitzgerald says it’s a Corot frieze, that bit.”

Here also was Philips’ bend of the Assiniboine by Omand’s creek; Franz H. Johnston’s Black Eagle pine tree picture; Tom Tomson’s Lone Pine Tree, and a copy of Millais’ The Cabbage Woman.

“The garden outside you pictured as the tale was told. It starts here under this arch where Heavenly blue morning glories bloom and winds by a cobblestone path to the Japanese tea house with the curly roof that hangs far out over the river. “From snow to snow there is something blooming; the little blue scillas first, and the tulips, and in the end the scarlet asters. I have 500 gladioli — I need something for cutting.” The lakeside church is supplied with blooms every Sunday.”

News article written by Lillian Gibbons, Winnipeg Tribune, 22 April 1939

I came across this newspaper clipping recently and found that reading it called up such vivid memories of my Granny, Edith Borrowman, that I wanted to share it. Her Winnipeg home was one in a series of feature stories in The Tribune, but this one says as much about Granny as it does about her house at 1192 Wolseley Avenue. The article appeared in the April 22, 1939 issue; it’s long, so I’ve divided it in two.

“The house with the garden room” — that’s what friends call Mrs. L.F. Borrowman’s home because she’s so fond of flowers she has let the garden come indoors. The flower-room is a grey roughcast sunroom stretching the width of the house on the riverside. It was alive with hyacinth perfume and crowded with paperwhites, tulips, pussy willows, lilies — hurried into bloom for a church Easter display, when the house-finder went to visit.

“A flame afghan and draperies with plenty of yellow in them made accents for the grey walls and companions for the flowers. “I sit here and drink it in,” said Mrs. Borrowman, laying aside her needlepoint. The pride of the place was the pot of Fantasy tulips, great feathery blooms, with hearts of flame and pale pink flounces. “I once read that if you only had a dollar, you should buy a Fantasy,” Mrs. Borrowman smiled.

“Mrs. Borrowman sees beauty in everything. “There’s a prune-colored light on the river snow in winter,” she says. She tries to encourage people to “get what beauty there is in this country.” Since “five months is the limit for outdoors growing, grow indoors!” They had chrysanthemum in the garden room at Christmas. They have now tulips and lilies and eight white bowls of paper whites and pots of fragrant pale pink hyacinths with cones of blossoms as big around as grapefruit. Even pussy willows Mrs. Borrowman starts indoors, bringing the twigs in while the snow is deep and no buds would dare show their noses outdoors.

The blue dining-room had a bay window that looked at the river. Mrs. Borrowman’s grey and rose room above it had the same window arrangement.  “We built our house to embrace the south and west views and that lovely bend of the river. I used to be able to see a mile, right down to Kelvin school… We were the first to put our kitchen at the side instead of the back: we couldn’t waste our riverside on kitchen!”