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Julie Williamson nee Hurdus 24.6.57 – 14.12.14
It was 26th
November 2005 when I began to understand how intertwined with my life Julie
was. I can’t remember who sent the text, her or me, but the text said ‘George
Best has died.’ and was quickly followed by a phone conversation in which she
and I reminisced about the crush that we both had on George in our teens, and
how we used to hang about outside his boutique in Manchester to catch a sight
of him, and how Carol Stott took us to stand in the Stretford End Paddock, to
see United play. Carol was a real football fan; Julie and I just wanted George to
be our boyfriend. But I ended up with Paul, and Julie ended up with Jack…..
I wanted to say a few
words so that I could share with you what Julie meant to me, but every time I
tried to plan what I would say, I kept being interrupted by vivid memories,
like this, of things that Julie and I had done together. I reprimanded myself,
and said ‘this is not about you, Jackie Taylor! Write about Julie!’
But of course for me,
and I guess for everyone here, the reason we are here is because Julie has
planted herself in our hearts. Julie is in my heart and, the more I think about
it, she is actually part of my self – we knew each other for 46 years.
Here are some of my
memories. I’m sharing them because I think you will recognise the person I’m
talking about.
I was at school with
Julie. We met in 1968 when we were 11. There were a group of us who hung about
together and looked after each other in the slightly scary world of the Hulme
Grammar School for Girls, Oldham. We used to walk home from school, wearing our
blue velour hats, gossiping and giggling. Boy could we giggle. But Julie was
the best giggler of all. Just by saying daft things and pointing out the
absurdities of our daily life she would have us laughing until we cried!
We were best friends,
Julie and I. We virtually lived at each other’s houses. We used to sleep over,
sharing secrets and giggling until we slept. She used to say my mum was her
second mum. It was the 1970s. We would have Nesquik milk shakes and Spam fritters
and chips. At 53 Broadway, I was made to feel like one of the family by Greta
and Harry, Kathy and Richard. They took me on holiday with them to Spain when
we were about 15. It was like a long road trip! What an adventure! I remember
us flirting with boys, dancing to Santana, Gary Glitter and Slade and long car
journeys with Greta and Harry singing songs from musicals, with Richard, at the
age of 5, sitting on my knee and sucking his thumb. Julie came from a family
who knew how to laugh, love and have fun.
I remember the day
Julie’s dad died. She was only 16 and it hit her hard. He was a larger than
life figure and she missed him. She became a bit more remote from us all for a
while, but, you know, she was still there for me when I needed her help.
After we left school went
our separate ways, following our educations and careers, but we always kept in
touch, writing and phoning.
We were at each
other’s weddings. We supported each other at the death of each parent. We
followed the trials and tribulations of each other’s lives and families:
illnesses, celebrations, regrets, mistakes, careers, house moves.
Julie, with her
abilities in languages and her astute sense of business had set up her own
travel agency, and then later went into further and higher education, working
as a lecturer and becoming a departmental head. She had such a down-to-earth,
positive, and encouraging attitude, she must have been an inspiring teacher and
a great colleague and manager (I have seen the facebook tributes, so I know
this is true).
Paul and I moved house
a few years ago, Julie and Jack were there for us on the day of the move,
hanging curtains, painting shelves, laughing and helping to keep things in
perspective. It was so much appreciated. It’s what friendship is about – a
shoulder to cry on or practical help when it is needed and Julie was one of the
best at doing both these things. Julie was a giver.
I watched Julie go
through a hard time when her sister Kathy was ill. She gave so much of herself
in trying to support Kathy and her boys, and after Kathy sadly died, the boys
knew that they had a second mum waiting in the wings. Auntie Julie was so proud
of her boys. Proud of Ryan’s adventures in Australia, proud of Adam’s
achievements at school, and his lovely singing voice (she made us sit and
listen to a CD one day when we visited) and proud of Harry’s abilities as an
artist. In fact she promoted Harry so well, I ended up with one of his fine
paintings hanging on my wall! I bet she wasn’t perfect, and I bet she drove you
mad at times, but you know, Ryan, Harry and Adam, she was so proud of you and
would have fought for you if she had to.
In recent years,
through facebook Julie and I renewed links with several of the ‘old girls’ from
Hulme. So in 2012 we went on another road trip, this time to Cambridge, to meet
up with Carol Stott. We 3 hadn’t been together for probably 30 years! We didn’t
stop talking and laughing. And here’s a little story from that road trip. I
don’t know if it’ll make me giggle or cry. We stayed one night in a hotel. We
lay in our twin beds talking and laughing just as we used to do when we were
14. I can’t recall what we were talking about but Julie suddenly said ‘Course, you know that I’m not technically
married?’ Silence. I tried to take this in. I was stunned. What was Julie
trying to say to me? I was at her wedding! I said ‘Julie, I don’t know what you mean…… you’re not technically married?’
Silence – she looked at me, puzzled, and then burst out into fits of laughter –
‘NO you deaf bugger! I said I’m not
technically minded!! Not not technically married!!!!!!’ And we both fell
into one of those helpless fits of laughter.
There are 2 things
about that silly story that are important.
The first is the shock
I had at the idea of Julie and Jack not being technically married, because of
course, as long as I have known them, they have been intertwined as one. 2
rocks supporting each other. 2 friends, comfortable and enjoying each other’s
company. I’m sure like all couples, they’ve had their ups and downs, but they
had a togetherness that was a pleasure to be with. Such a strong togetherness
that Julie must be embedded, like a diamond, in your heart, Jack.
The second thing about
that story is that laughter features so much in many of my memories of Julie.
As my sister, Norma said (and another of Julie’s facebook friends) there has
never been, and I’m sure will never be, someone who can provoke laughter and
giggles quite so much as Julie. Won’t we miss her for that? Won’t we miss her
for her loyalty and her generosity of spirit? For her ability to make you feel
welcome and loved and appreciated? For her shoulder which we could weep on, and
her hands that offered practical help? For her sharp intelligence, that often
came disguised as an innocent and playful remark?
I’m going to keep
Julie, as part of myself, in my heart, and if I can be half as generous, loyal
and laughter-filled as she was, then I’ll feel I’ve done alright.
Jackie Taylor
