I would like to thank Aunty Marion's family for inviting me to give this eulogy, and for their help in its preparation.

Edith Marion Williams née Shakespeare was better known as Mom, Grandma, Great Grandma, Aunty Marion and - to her sister and a wide circle of friends and acquaintances - simply as Marion.

She was born on the last day of 1918 at 152 Sladefield Road, in Ward End, Birmingham - the eighth child and youngest daughter of William George Shakespeare and Kate Spargo.

Five years later she crossed the road to start school on the day, as she once told me, that her grandfather, Joseph Shakespeare, died. That single leap of memory takes us back to a life that had started in 1850.

From Sladefield Road school Aunty Marion progressed, unusually for her family and those times, to Erdington Grammar School. This she did not enjoy, leaving as soon as legally possible at the age of fourteen. When the BBC broadcast the TV series ‘Cranford’ she refused to watch it because she had been made to read the book at school! Milton’s ‘grove of Academe’ was not for her.

Entering next the world of work, Aunty Marion took her own set of standards to the workplace, and found most employers to fall far short of her expectations. She was ruthless in her dealings with defaulters, and would move hastily on.

Like so many of her siblings she had, from a very early age, derived much of her social life from her membership of Washwood Heath Methodist Church. Here, as a member of the Girls’ Brigade, she met and befriended Minnie Gilbert. This was a friendship that was to last a lifetime, ending only - but not for long - with ‘Aunty’ Minnie’s death.

Here, too, she met Uncle Stan whom she married during the Second World War. She was soon deprived of his company because the King made him an offer he could not refuse. But the happiness of the war’s ending was soon enhanced by the arrival of their first child, Keith. Judith was to complete their family a few years later.

Though her role as a wife and mother occupied much of her time, Aunty Marion took the opportunity to develop her talents as a singer, having been blessed with a fine soprano voice. In this she was greatly encouraged by the choir master at Washwood Heath, Maurice Robinson. She thus became the mainstay of the church’s choir though, were she here today, her eldest contralto sister might demur. Judith maintains that tradition which gave, and still gives, pleasure to so many people.

Aunty Marion bore with great fortitude the untimely death of her beloved husband, Uncle Stan, now entering upon a new and different phase of her life.

This was made possible by her ability to drive. Those of us with an interest in motor racing will know the names of Davina Galitsa and, from an earlier generation, the owner of London’s Windmill Theatre, Sheila Van Damm. But her eldest grandchild, Simon, recalls how impressed he was, as a young teenager and aspiring motorist, by his grandmother’s departures, at high speed, from their home in the depths of rural Worcestershire. Those lanes have seen nothing quite like it - before or since.

But her grandchildren, Mark and Karen, have other memories too: of water being thrown over a recalcitrant grandson, long before the days of ‘Childline’; of a ’fridge full of mini fruit juice cartons, in readiness for their next visit, and a biscuit tin stuffed with Kit Kats, home made mince pies with icing, treacle tart and coconut slices which were safe from their mother’s lips because she didn’t like them.

Near to her home in Sutton Coldfield, Aunty Marion helped with a nursery group, and I would find that my attempts to visit her for coffee and a chat had to take their place behind this commitment and appointments at the hairdresser.

But when her diary permitted of such meetings, I found her anxious to receive intelligence about our wider family. This was partly, but not wholly, because she considered that she had a duty to inform her sister, Winnie, of the latest news of nieces, nephews and their children in Germany, Canada and all corners of the United Kingdom.

In return, I would be updated about the activities of her own family. These briefings were illuminated by her own, highly original, opinions about the events on which she was reporting. Those opinions were borne of long held, strong, convictions and the events were the result of almost daily telephone calls from her grandson about her great-grandchildren. When one of her granddaughters took the traditional ‘year out’ to travel, she kept a world map in her kitchen on which she marked Laura’s current location.

Her interest in our extended family led Aunty Marion to attend the wedding of a great-niece because, as she put it, "her grandparents can’t be there". Similarly, she made the journey to Bristol to attend the funeral of her nephew’s wife - to demonstrate her support for him in a very dark hour.

Many of us were able to join in her 90th birthday celebrations last December. When Laura pointed out that she shared this distinction with Nelson Mandela, she replied that she would prefer to do so with a member of the Royal Family.

These anecdotes serve not only to document the life that has just ended, but also to illustrate the firmly held values by which it was lived. They make easy the choice of whether to mourn Aunty Marion’s passing or to celebrate her life.