Family Seat #2 (Object 194)

The scene above has been a familiar sight throughout my life: the view across the duckpond to Barnes Green in south-west London, where I was born and raised. This ordinary-looking park bench is particularly special to me as it is dedicated to the memory of my parents, and is where I go to sit and think about them at certain times of year; birthdays, anniversaries. It is about seven miles from where I live now, and on a recent sunny day with little else to do in these locked down times, I enjoyed some much needed exercise by cycling along the Thames path to visit my old haunts.

This bench is new, and if it wasn’t for this deadly global pandemic it may not be there at all. The previous one had been in need of replacement for some time but I could not afford it, and faced giving up this tranquil place of reflection and remembrance. Then COVID hit and the prolonged suspension of my usual gallivanting ways, plus the cancellation of a planned trip abroad, left me with some funds to spare at the end of the year. So I decided to spend my holiday money instead on memorial bench number 3.

The first memorial bench, of which sadly I do not have a photo, was placed by Barnes Pond in memory of my Dad after his sudden death in 1992. It was the idea of a close family friend, who kindly funded and organised it when we were all still too deep in shock and grief to think about such things. My mother found it too distressing to visit, but for me it was different: Dad was cremated, so without a grave to visit I found it helpful to have this place dedicated to his memory, at the pond where we had spent so many happy childhood times with him, feeding the ducks, cracking the ice, dipping nets. I found it a great comfort to visit and think about him.

So when Mum left us nine years later, I decided I would like to replace Dad’s bench with one to both of them. They deserved a memorial in Barnes, the place they had lived their lives together (Mum since she was ten years old), and raised us kids, the community to which they had both given so much (such as helping to found the Barnes Community Association, based nearby, in the 1970s). On investigation I was shocked to find Dad’s bench had been removed – apparently it had fallen into disrepair and the council were unable to trace the family friend who had, by then, moved abroad. Thankfully I was able to secure another spot by the pond for the new bench, and each year in springtime, around the time of their birthdays, my brothers and I would meet there to remember them and give the bench a bit of maintenance (followed by refreshments at the Sun Inn). I would visit more often; with no final resting place for their mortal remains (their ashes were scattered at Mortlake crematorium), it is a special place full of happy memories where I can sit in the sunshine and remember them. I also like to think they would approve of a memorial that serves a useful purpose for their beloved community.

Down the stream the swans all glide;
It’s quite the cheapest way to ride.
Their legs get wet,
Their tummies wetter:
I think after all
The bus is better.
– from Spike Milligan’s Silly Verse for Kids, a childhood favourite of mine.

For most of my life there has usually been a pair of swans nesting on the pond, although there was an absence of several years in the 1970s before the restoration work was undertaken to make the island more wildlife friendly. Swans mate for life, and every time I see a cob and hen on Barnes pond it reminds me of my parents and their lifelong devotion to each other. The resident pair (above) glided past me as I sat on the bench yesterday; I also had the company of a young heron.

A young heron stalks the reeds in front of Mum & Dad’s bench

Looking across the pond towards our bench. I love to see young families there, children feeding the ducks with their mummies and daddies as we used to do.

Some time ago – about a year and a half – the council got in touch with me to say the oak bench had once again fallen into disrepair and posed a danger to the public, and if I did not wish to replace it then the spot would have to be released to someone else. By now I was working part-time and had less money to spare; my brothers were no longer local and our annual bench maintenance outing had waned. Assuming, with some sadness, that I could not afford the replacement, I asked if I could have the old bench for my own garden: with a bit of TLC perhaps it could be serviceable for personal, if not public use. The answer was yes – and then I found the funds to replace it after all – so in effect I got two benches for the price of one!

In December 2020 the new bench was in place and my good friend Johnny B kindly helped me to collect the old one. We drove it from Twickenham to Brixton lashed to the roof of his vintage Land Rover, and it now sits in a spot my back garden that catches the morning sun. I would not have my lovely home if my parents had not worked so hard to give us our home in Barnes, and I appreciate it every day, especially the garden over this last year of lockdown.

Johnny lashing the old bench to the Landrover

So now there are two special places where I can sit with a coffee and contemplate the happy childhood my parents gave us, remembering them with deep affection and gratitude.

A sunny spot to sit with a coffee and watch the birds and foxes in my garden. The chimney pot came from our house in Barnes.

The old bench in my garden. I like to think they would approve of the banner above.