Snapshot: When my mother met Prince Charles
Before our mother Manorama’s 16th birthday, her parents started looking for a suitable groom. This photograph of Ma was specially taken to be sent to her prospective husband’s family. In 1940, she was married to Bauji (our father, Surendra Shailaj). They had not met, and had only seen each other’s photos before the wedding. She was 17 and he was 22.
Manorama was the eldest of five children – four girls and a boy – but she was her father’s favourite. Her parents, who were originally from north India, had settled in Baripada, in the state of Odisha on India’s eastern coast. Our grandfather’s business had prospered, making his family one of the wealthiest in the town.
Pre-independence, Baripada boasted a palace with the maharaja in residence, but it was no more than a small town with rural features in which Manorama enjoyed an almost idyllic childhood. There she had the freedom to run around with her friends, bathe in the pond and the river and climb trees. However, in 1932, at the age of nine, she was sent off to boarding school, putting an end to her romps.
Manorama was a diligent student but, despite her love of education, she was very homesick and longed to return home. After a year, her parents agreed to bring her home, where she attended the local school. During this period she used to socialise with minor royalty and even had the opportunity to meet the Maharani, which accounts for her passionate interest, later, in the British royal family, and in particular the Queen. So much so that when the Queen visited India in 1961, Manorama was among the thousands waiting in the burning sun for a glimpse of Her Majesty.
Although her desire to meet the Queen was never fulfilled, she was thrilled to shake hands with Prince Charles when he visited Dunedin in New Zealand in 2005. This remained one of the main talking points for her for a long time afterwards.
Mridu Thanki
Playlist: The shoes didn’t fit but my first record did
Moonlight Shadow by Mike Oldfield
“The last that ever she saw him / Carried away by a moonlight shadow”
There I was, 11 years old, trudging around the shops with Mum and Dad, when I saw it – the sign. It was in the shop window of Clarks shoe shop: “Free with any pair of school shoes – a Top 10 single. Exclusive to Clarks.”
It was 1983, and I had just started listening to pop music. I didn’t have any records of my own, but when I saw that sign, I knew I was going to have my very first record. I was about to go up to secondary school so I needed new school shoes. I had never been so excited about buying shoes, especially school shoes. Sadly, my massive grin didn’t last very long.
“I’m very sorry,” the assistant said. “We only have this pair in your size.”
I looked down in horror at the frumpy fawn shoes.
“It’s all right, we can go somewhere else,” Mum said.
“No, no, no!” I cried. It was my record. My record.
“And the record offer ends today,” the assistant said.
My head shot up. At that age, I didn’t understand the word commission, all I cared about was my vanishing record.
Five minutes later, I was clutching a bag containing the hideous shoes, an enormous smiled on my face.
“You will wear the shoes, won’t you?” Mum asked.
“Yes, I love them,” I said, fingers crossed behind my back.
At home, we filled out the form to claim my record. I knew which one I’d choose. Yes, Paul Young was No 1 with Wherever I Lay my Hat, but I didn’t like his hair – or his song. I had loved Moonlight Shadow as soon as I heard it, so there was no contest.
“Was that the post?” I’d call out, bounding down the stairs every time the letterbox went.
When the record finally arrived, I was beside myself with excitement. Dad was in charge of the record player, but he showed me how to play the record, and play it I did. Again and again and again. Mum and Dad liked the song at first. They soon went off it, though.
Now, whenever I hear the song, I can’t help but smile.
“You only got the shoes so you could have that blasted record, didn’t you?” Mum asked when I moaned that the shoes didn’t fit a couple of weeks later. She made me wear them for the next two terms. But it was worth it.
Esther Newton
We love to eat: My gran Cissie’s sausage rings
Ingredients
225g self-raising flour
Pinch of salt
55g butter
55g grated cheddar cheese
7 tbsp milk
English mustard
225g sausagemeat
1 beaten egg, salted
Rub the flour, salt and butter together with your fingertips until they look like breadcrumbs. Add the cheese and milk. Form into pastry and roll out to an even oblong. Spread the pastry with English mustard to taste (about a teaspoonful). Mix the sausagemeat with the egg and spread evenly over the pastry, leaving a gap at the ends. Roll up into a long sausage roll and chill for 20 minutes. Slice into rings and place on a baking tray. Bake for 15 minutes at 200C/gas mark 6.
My gran Cissie lived with us on and off while I was growing up. My mum was from Scotland but moved near Gatwick in the 60s to be an air hostess. She missed Scotland dreadfully, but met my dad, who had grown up in Surrey, fell in love, and never moved back to Scotland. I would spend many a summer holiday staying with Cissie (she lived in Alexandria near Loch Lomond) and I loved it when she came to live with us.
Cissie lived as if there was still rationing and ate mainly porridge and homemade broth. But she liked baking and would often make shortbread, scones or these scrumptious little sausage rings.
One of my favourite memories is coming home from school and smelling these fresh out of the oven the moment I opened the front door. She would make a double batch and then freeze them in bags of five or six so I could defrost a bag a day, whack them under the grill and eat them freshly toasted with the cheese bubbling.
I am now mainly vegetarian, but this is one snack that I truly miss.
Beth Gardner
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