Sarah Jane Morley 'Sally' (1 Sep 1942 - 10 Aug 2024)

In loving memory of Sarah Jane Morley 'Sally' who sadly passed away on 10th August 2024, aged 81.

Let’s start at the end. Mum was just shy of her 82nd birthday when she died. The last couple of years account for just 2.5% of her life and I’m going to allocate about the same proportion of this speech to those years. So….. Cancer. Multiple infections. Long stays in hospital. Extended periods of extreme delirium. Paper thin skin. Immobility. And dementia. Basically, it was a bit rubbish. So instead, let’s focus on the first 80 years as this is not a sad story. This is a story of a life well lived. A life that was rich and rewarding.

I was always proud to be able to tell people Mum was an Educational Psychologist. I should have shown more of an interest in the strange suitcases with diagnostic equipment and the reports that she wrote late at night, balancing being a Mum to 3 kids and working full time. A massive thank you to Sue and Mike for writing the obituary that Sue read earlier. Thanks also to the colleagues that, years after she retired, contributed memories that helped them to write it. I have added the link to the obituary in the Order of Service which is on the British Psychological Society website as I know lots of you will want to read it later, in all its glory. She was lucky to find a career that gave her so much satisfaction. If we didn’t know before, we all now know how unbelievably highly she was regarded by her colleagues.

Mum was very proud of her Scottishness. I’m not quite sure how Scottish she actually was, considering she was born in South Africa to an English Mother and then spent approximately 70% of her life in England. The sassenachs south of the border seemed to take to her though!

Mum may have spent time in Newcastle, then Kent and then almost 50 years in Nottingham but her heart was in Scotland, specifically Edinburgh and the village of Coldingham. She was desperate to make it back up to Coldingham and Homefield, the cottage there, one last time, but it just wasn’t to be. We will be spreading my parents ashes, together, in the place that she loved.

Mum and Dad met in Newcastle. I guess that on paper they may not have looked like a perfect match? I think Mum was more outgoing and maybe more socially confident than Dad. From my own selfish perspective, I’m very glad that they did meet, and got on very well together! They complemented each other, despite and because of their differences. They travelled the world together, and with lots of you. The photos of them together in your order of service span decades and are testament to their love.

Mum was not particularly affectionate. We were recently sent the photo of a young Mum hugging Dad and it instantly became a favourite picture for me (it’s in the Order of Service). Did I ever doubt her love for Dad, or me? No, not at all. Never. She loved all of her family, very dearly. The reality was that I drove her mad, and she drove me mad. It didn’t mean that we didn’t love each other, it was just the product of me inheriting her strong-will, pig headedness and us both drawing straight lines to own version of right. This held true even in the last year when Mum was delirious and absolutely convinced the many paranoid imaginings in her head were real. I included a pic at the end of the OOS where Mum and I are holding hands. She had high ambitions for us, but I believe she came to appreciate her kids, warts and all. In the last year of her life, she wanted to have her hand held. She was scared and it comforted her. It was nice to hold her hand.

Mum had 3 grandchildren: Frankie, Louisa and Etta. I think the photos of her with them in your Order of Service perfectly capture how happy she was to be a Granny. Mum picking the kids up from school and babysitting saved me and Clara a fortune. It also meant that my kids got to spend a lot of time with their Granny. Being the eldest, Frankie got the best of Mum and they had a particularly special bond. They both loved fish and chips and Frankie was very willing to help facilitate her addiction. It wasn’t very long ago that his Granny took Frankie for an adventure on a trip to Paris. Mum’s mobility was severely compromised, and it was probably as much Frankie taking Mum as the other way round. Mum wanted to take Louisa on an adventure and I’m sure would have loved to do the same with Etta. Unfortunately, she ran out of time.

Mum had lots of friends. Lots and lots of friends. Lifelong friends and, in that context, relatively new ones too. Mum’s school friend Marion emigrated to Canada but they remained extremely close, despite the distance between them. She wrote to us last week and articulated Mum’s capacity to form bonds of friendship:

“Sally was full of life and made friends easily. She lit up a room when she entered. She greeted everyone and was fondly greeted by them. She had room in her heart for many friends”

Mum was genuinely interested in people and loved a blether. I remember Mum rambling on with you all for hours on end, drawing elaborate doodles on a pad next to the phone. I know that you appreciated her friendship, her advice, her support, her joie de vivre, just as she appreciated yours. Her capacity for socialising and her gregarious nature slipped away towards the end. I suspect that many of you sent emails, Whatsapps and left voicemails that did not get answered. Technology became a challenge, and she became a little insular. If that’s you, I think Mum would want me to say sorry, she didn’t mean it. I also know you wouldn’t want or need that apology.

Mum was sporty. Not so much when I knew her, although I am told that she played squash on glass back courts, me watching in a push chair. She was convinced that she had lightning reflexes, even in her 70s when we visited the National Museum of flight and there was a machine to test them. She did pretty well! There was the very famous episode of Mum’s University friends forming a rugby team as the only women’s team in Scotland (maybe the world?!) didn’t have anyone to play against. Mum kept the newspaper clippings, My favourite quote was from their coach:
“My only problem has been to persuade the girls to cut down on the gin and cigarette consumption. A compromise has been reached where they take orange in their gin and smoke tipped cigarettes”.
She also played hockey and captained the basketball team at Edinburgh University.
Mum was ahead of her time, encouraging us to adopt the Wim Hoff method at a young age by immersing ourselves in the Scottish North Sea. Bribes were offered and as treats were in short supply we went for it. My memory is not great, but for all the good it was meant to be doing to us, I don’t think I remember her going for a ‘dook’ once.

We knew that the end was coming but Mum deteriorated so quickly. As soon as we are conscious of our own mortality, we know that the day will come when we have to say goodbye to our parents. We were very fortunate to be able to spend time with her in her dotage.

Mum was a constant in our lives and to have that removed is surreal and exquisitely painful. To know that she lived such a rich and fulfilling life makes saying goodbye a little easier.

Love you Mum