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Georgina Light. 1928 - 2006

1965, Georgina tending the churchyard for the Revd. Harris. It is summer, no woollen hat but wearing the ever present wellies

The following appeared in the February 2007 edition of the Good News Paper (Parish Magazine) and is reproduced with permission.

For many years a village character was seen making her way from home to the Church, then the Garage, later returning home via one or other of the village hostelries. This familiar figure was hailed by passers by and she would wave as she trudged along in her Wellington boots and bobble hat. For several years she has been absent from the village scene, housebound by ill health. In December 2006 she died in Swindon Hospital.

Friends and village residents gathered at All Saints' Church on Friday 19th January 2007 to say farewell to Ena. The Rev. Richard Graham, conducted the service and committal in the churchyard, tended for many years by Ena.

John Powell, Chairman of the Parish Council and life long resident of the village, addressed the congregation as follows:

"Georgina Light - known to many as Enid, Ena, Georgie, Maggie, was born in Ram Alley. She moved to Seymour Gardens with her parents when 8 years old and lived there for the rest of her life. After she left school she worked for Annie Cady at the bake house, Stibb Green. As I made my way home from school to buy a jam doughnut I would see Ena kneading the dough, marking up newspapers or on her hands and knees scrubbing the floors.

For a time Ena worked at Kinwardstone Farm for the Norris family. Ena at one time helped Rupert Cady when he had the newspaper business in the parish and later Lloyd Gant when he ran the newsagents from the old Bakery in Taskers Lane.

Ena loved her cigarettes. A drop of "Gold Label" was her favourite beer. She loved to call at The White Hart to meet Mary Chilton, Mick Cady and Furk Vallis. She did odd gardening jobs around the village, the vicarage gardens and mowed the grass in the churchyard. She often cursed when the mower had, yet again, broken down. There is a story that when the vicar, Reverend Harris, upset her over something he received the parson's nose from a turkey.

Ena was always ready to take part in village affairs, comic football matches, church fetes and flower shows. She had a generous nature, often giving us a prize for our hospice coffee mornings.

After Ena was housebound neighbours and friends were extremely good to her. Mandy Mills and her family, Pam Lovell and Richard Flint, from the White Hart, regularly called with a hot meal for her. Other visitors called on her regularly, especially friends from the church. Ena died peacefully in Swindon Hospital"

Jessica Mills addressed the congregation:

"I wish to give testimony to a special Burbage lady. In my growing years Ena was a family friend but yet to me it seemed like she was a "Gran". Ena will always be a part of my family memories. Ena made everybody laugh; she gave me and a lot of others comfort and was always tolerant of others. I am so delighted that Ena was able to live out her life at 217 High Street.

Ena was very attached to Burbage and the village life. Those who knew her well feel her absence. Ena would be so delighted to see so many friends and acquaintances here today.

This poem by Sarah Strahan (Hanson), was read by Ken Moore.

In Loving Memory of Ena light.

We were never convinced that we got her name right .
Was it Ena or Enid, we're never quite sure
She answered to most things once through the pub door
A familiar figure that everyone knew

Her favourite tipple was Special Brew,
After a couple I don't think she'd squabble
That now and again they'd cause her to wobble ,
All round the village she'd often be seen
Maybe cleaning the garage or mowing the green,

Her standard attire, well she saw no reason
To not wear her wellies, whatever the season.
An animal lover, Ena was big hearted
Which was a good job as oft she was carted
All over the village by that dog she adored
He'd pull like a train, never mind how she roared!

It is said that in every village there lives
A born and bred character that everyone gives
A smile or a wave as they pass by
They're part of the landscape if you're wondering why,
For us that character was Ena Light

And we will miss the familiar sight
Of her welly-clad figure heading up the High Street
To her favourite places, her friends to meet
This special Light has now grown dark .
But there will always be a spark
In memories that we'll all hold near,

Rest in Peace now Ena dear.

Enid, standing far left, a player in the Burbage Ladies Football Team. This is an early 1950s Gala event. Whilst the local side wore fancy dress, the opposition, Hungerford, turned up in their normal strips but our girls still beat them.

I attended Enid's funeral and was impressed by how many people were there to pay their last respects to someone who, on the face of it, was just an ordinary old lady of the village. She had no family yet about 100 people took time out on a Friday morning to attended the service. She was no angel but she was a real character; a very likable woman. A can of Special Brew and a packet of cigarettes were placed with her in her coffin. After the undertakers had carried her in and placed the coffin on the trestles in the chancel, a pair of wellingtons were placed in front of it for the duration of the service and when she was buried they were placed in the grave with her - what will future archaeologists make of it all?

Enid (kneeling far left) with other fancy dress entrants in a Gala event about 1950.

I was unlucky. Although I have seen and spoken to Enid (as I always called her) many times, I only ever saw her in her wellingtons and woollen hat. But Ken Moore, Richard Flint and others can testify that when the occasion arose, Enid could turn out as well as the next.

Enid (seated second left) and her mother (seated far right) at a Gala function in the early 1950s

For many of the last years of her life, Enid lived alone. She was not wealthy by any means and upon her death her estate was insufficient to pay her funeral expenses. Rather than committing her to the modern-day version of a pauper's funeral, Richard Flint, John Guy and others started a collection behind the bar at the White Hart, negotiated with funeral directors etc. and organized a "proper" funeral with tea and sandwiches afterwards. I think even they were surprised by the generosity of the donations and although the final bills are not yet in, there will still be enough over to cover the additional cost of a headstone.

Yet this generous feeling towards Enid was nothing new. Even though the Reverend Harris left the parish in 1965, he sent a Christmas present of money to Enid every year until just before he died in 1996. Knowing her well, the money was in the form of credit at the village shops and could not be spent on tobacco or alcohol (he had obviously long since forgiven her for the parson's nose episode). In more recent time Richard Flint at the White Hart offered yet more financial support; proceeds from his weekly quiz nights in the winter were donated to a "local charity" which, often as not, was Enid. Through this help she was able in her bedridden years to obtain the necessities as well as the luxuries which she was unable to afford - fridge, freezer, television etc. And, as we saw above, there was always the neighbours to help her.

In a world more and more obsessed with fame, wealth and "me" it is good to know that at least in Burbage some of the old values live on.

If there is a White Hart in wherever she has gone, Enid will be standing there right now, glass in one hand, cigarette in the other... and no doubt wearing her wellies.

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