Posted on April 20, 2021
by Marie Gogarty 
1 
| Born/ Place of Birth | July 5, 1925, South Kirkby |
| Death/ place | July 14, 1987, Pontefract |
| Spouse | John Lawrence |
| Siblings | Doris, Hilda, Celia, Mary, Alice, Mavis, Frank, Leslie, Allan, Horace |
| Married/ Place | 1946, South Kirkby |
| Father | Allan Wright |
| Mother | Celia Kaye |
| Children | Janet, Marie, Sally Ann, John |
| Education | Secondary school to age 15 |
| Occupation | Home maker /School Dinner Lady |
Joyce was one of a family of 11 children. She grew up in South Kirkby. Her mother died when she was about 10 years old and she was then raised by her older sisters Celia and Mary. Joyce was next to the youngest sister. They went in this order Doris, Hilda, Alice, Celia, Mary, Joyce and Mavis. She also had brothers, Allan, Frank, Lesley and Horace. Her father was an accountant at Kirkby pit and her mother, as well as looking after 11 children ,also took in sewing and laundry. Joyce and Celia were very close as sisters and visited with each other at least twice a week for their whole lives.
Joyce was a very good student but was not able to follow on to grammar school due to lack of funds. Her elder sisters Hilda and Doris did go to grammar school and became a teacher and nurse. Joyce was very capable and could if given the opportunity have gone far in education. Her whole life she loved to read and was very interested in Russian novelists and was a very good piano player. She was also a gifted sewer and could make any type of garment or furnishing. She always made her own dresses and always made Easter and Whitsuntide dresses for her daughters.
Joyce was a homemaker and had 4 children, Janet, Marie , Sally and John. She encouraged learning and made every effort to ensure that they got the best education. When the children had grown up she took a job as a school dinner lady and enjoyed her time spent with the kids in the playground. She was promoted to shop steward of the dinner ladies union and attended night school in Leeds to full fill the role.
She suffered with deafness most of her adult life but did not wear a hearing aid. She was married to John Lawrence for 35 years until her death in 1987 from breast cancer. At her funeral the church was full, full of people she had helped over her 62 years of living in South Elmsall, she was a very caring person and always made sure to help others in any way that she could.
A poem about Joyce Margaret Wright from her daughter Sally
My mum by Sally Lawrence 21/01/2021
My mum was always busy, cleaning, cooking, and washing,
Monday was her wash day ritual, twin-tub whirring,
Hot water and washing turning.
I was allowed to lift out the washing with the infamous white stick and put it in the spinner,
It was the latest mod con and before that the mangle I remember.
I was allowed to partake of such domestic wonders, maybe mum was hoping I would be a domestic goddess one day.
Mum was always up early, lighting the fire and relishing those moments of peace to sit by the fire with her thoughts and a nice cup of tea.
I remember my first day at school, mum and John walking me to the playground, no tears no tantrums and no fuss from mum.
Mum knew everyone,
We would walk ten meters and she would keep stopping and chatting, finding out all about her neighbor’s news.
I liked to walk along and listen to what was going on and before we knew it an hour had gone.
Saturday was a big day in mums’ calendar and the Elmsall market day bluster.
Trolley in tow, no bus, no car for the trip.
We would head straight for the market and going to all mums’ regular stalls, seconds shoes, fruit and veg and the sweet stall,
Always smoked haddock for tea when we got home.
The shopping list exhausted as well as my little legs, we would head off back home after the Auntie Ce pit stop.
Two sisters, chitter chatter, so detailed was their conversation that I loved to hear what they had to share. My mum loved her big sis with so much in common, sewing cooking, making jams and all those recipes and tips a flowing.
We would have a brew putting things to the worlds to rights and if we were lucky, we were treated to a scone or some yummy cake of sorts.
Oh, how I see the similarities now that I am all grown up and love chatting to my sisters about all my news of sorts.
So mum was the sergeant major of our house,
No messing, no back chat unless we were happy to match her wroth.
She was very bad tempered and could fly of the handle, but underneath that school ma’am persona was a big softie at heart.
Now Friday night was a busy time,
Faulkner’s fruit and veg van pipping their horn.
We would buy our spuds and carrots, onions and some apples and mum would know the lads mum of course.
After the delivery we set to work baking for England and enough stuff for the week.
The Bero book bible was perused, and I still cherish it to this day, should I need those good old fashioned retro recipe buns.
Mum could bake absolutely anything and probably why I am addicted to cakes and all things made with sugar.
There were cream horns, better than the ones in the shop, bakewell tarts, chocolate cake with the cadbury topping for a start.
I was allowed to weigh and mix and make the butterfly bun creations, being very careful to follow her detailed instructions.
I loved those baking tasks and over time I have also perfected the perfect batch.
The fresh bread baking in the coal oven and that rice pudding with the crispy brown top.
When we were not busy in the kitchen we sat down for our homework.
She would sit with us until we got it right.
She played the piano every now and then and looked very thoughtful as if she were dreaming of what could have been.
Mum wanted to be a music teacher but left school at fourteen.
She was very clever and could spell anything.
The opportunities lost in those days when getting married was your lot with no escape,
She was sad about that and so I knew that she was always thinking the what if and what could have been her world.
We were allowed a new dress at Whitsuntide and special occasions.
Mum made them all from scratch, picking the pattern out material for it and it was always top notch.
I loved that she could make me anything I wanted,
A gifted craft lady was our mum but not too good at haircuts unless you were a nun.
Maybe we missed the carefree time with mum, the giggles the cuddles.
She was old school, but she still loved us a lot and she tucked us up in bed after reading us a book.
One weekly ritual could never be interrupted,
Her Sunday bath time at 3 o’clock.
Book in hand and the accompanying mars bar,
She was in the bath an hour, enjoying the sanctuary at last.
She cherished the moments to be by herself, don’t blame her really as we were a handful and always getting under her feet.
Mum was the boss and in my own way I know that my confidence and some life skills I learned and see her in me everyday
I chatter, I bake, and I am a bish bash bosh type of mum and will never be seen without my makeup just like my mum.
Childhood goes so quickly and before we knew it, we were all grown up.
Remembering my mum, the small lady with her black hair tied up in a bun.
Always looking smart on her trips to the shop with some face powder, rouge, and lipstick like an old movie star.
Be assured that she was a real character our mum.