AUNTIE Rene and Uncle Selwyn invite us to the Wainwright home for a family party, just after Xmas 1961.
They live at Rose Cottage at the back of the Red Lion at Silkstone and have two sons, Peter and Paul, who are both below school age.
Even though I’m only seven years old, the evening is memorable because Auntie Rene has a wonderful talent for preparing delicious food and Uncle Selwyn is well-known for mischief and entertainment.
The buffet is gorgeous and the sherry trifle is the finest I’ve ever tasted.
Uncle Selwyn’s an incorrigible practical joker. On this occasion he shows us his brand new gadget – a reel-to-reel domestic tape recorder – the first one we’ve ever seen.
Every few minutes he secretly sets it recording and then creates a guffaw of laughter by playing it back. Hearing how others talk when their ‘guard is down’ is hilarious, but hearing ourselves speak is so embarrassing.
“Am I really as broad as that?” asks Auntie Rene, laughing and shaking her head.
“What about me?” says my mother. “It sounds like I was absent from school for the lesson on how to speak proper English.”
The fun we have with the tape recorder creates more uproarious laughter than all the other games put together, so by the end of the evening everyone complains that their sides are aching.
After that, our families have a get-together almost every Xmas or New Year. The Wainwrights sometimes arrive at Harvey Street on a motorbike and sidecar and we always know they’re bringing with them, generous Xmas presents and shed-loads of good humour.
When I’m a bit older, my dad sometimes goes into the cockloft and brings down a boxful of memorabilia relating to his brother, Ronnie, who was killed in Italy fighting the fascists. This is neither sad nor sentimental – but an act of education and family pride.
Besides the war-time medals and letters that Uncle Ron sent home from Africa and Italy, the box contains photographs of a young Auntie Rene with Grandma Ada. They show them paying homage to Uncle Ron, just after the war, by visiting his grave in Italy. It’s a visit sponsored by the British Legion.
Shortly after the war, disaster strikes a second time when, in dense fog, Grandad Steele is killed when he’s hit by a motorbike on Eldon Street. Grandad is partially deaf so he struggles to see or hear the motorbike as he crosses the road, near Benjamin Harral’s, on his way to work.
In the 1970s, the Wainwrights are blessed with a third child, Sonia, and life is good. Auntie Rene is a wonderful wife and mother, with a strong Christian ethic. However, early in the New Year 1981, after a lovely family Xmas, tragedy strikes yet again.
Uncle Selwyn, a 48-year-old non- smoking, non drinking, fitness fanatic, goes jogging to blow off the Xmas cobwebs. Sadly, as he passes Tinkers Pond, he suffers a massive heart attack and dies.
The shock for the Steele family is profound but for the Wainwrights the trauma is indescribable.
From that time onwards, life becomes a lot more challenging, but Auntie Rene puts all her time, love and energy into supporting her family.
At 80, she falls whilst hiking over Woodhead and breaks her hip. We all fear the worst but she soon rallies. In her 90s she has another fall at home and breaks her femur, but thanks to the care and attention of BDGH and her supportive family, she recovers miraculously. Her children put this down to her stoic spirit and belief that ‘we are all divinely protected in some way’.
Today she still lives independently, and the family are so proud that on 5th January 2026, Auntie Rene – a Steele in blood, a Wainwright in heart – will reach the great milestone of 100 years of age.
Her greatest reward will be to know that everyone in her closely-knit family are happy and settled, but I’m also aware that a letter of congratulations from King Charles will make her special day even more memorable.
So, I ask you all to raise a glass to Auntie Rene – the first centenarian in the history of both the Wainwright and Steele families.
