Steve Reeves

I recently heard that Stella, a member of the Windrush generation, passed away aged 93.

I first met her in 2022 and immediately loved her gentle sense of humour. As I fumbled around with my camera trying to take her photo, she said, "Take your time and hurry up."
Stella came to England from Guyana in 1955 at the age of 23. Her husband, Cecil, had already made the journey and was working as a carpenter in Tooting. Stella left her young son with his grandparents while she got settled and found work.
She crossed The Atlantic on an Italian ship but can't remember the name. She enjoyed the 2 week journey. On board were families, single men and women and children all excited about starting a new life in England.
The boat docked in Dover, and when she arrived at Victoria Station, she didn't like seeing all the big buildings. It looked like a prison to her - She was probably seeing the high wall that goes around the gardens at the back of Buckingham Palace which is very close to the station. Stella wasn't sure about England at first but it was her sense of humour that helped get her through those early years. A white woman once looked at her hands and said, "Oh, look at that, you wear a wedding ring just like us". Stella replied, "We normally wear our rings through our noses but put them on our fingers before we get off the banana boat."
She remembers seeing snow for the first time and assumed that everyone would go into hibernation and couldn't believe that people still had to go to work. Having lived through 70 British winters thinks it's funny now.
Stella and Cecil lived in a single room in Tooting. Cecil worked, and Stella trained to become a nurse. Stella also had a baby daughter called Wendy

Stella and Cecil lived in a single room in Tooting. While Cecil worked, Stella trained to become a nurse.

They had a daughter, Wendy, and once Stella had qualified and settled, she tried to bring her son over from Guyana. But by then, her in-laws had grown too attached to him and refused to let him leave. Stella told me that although many English people think that West Indians live in shacks, her in-laws had a big house with 6 bedrooms and said there was no way they were sending their grandson to share a single room in South London. Stella’s son remained in Guyana, where he still lives today.

Once Stella passed her nursing exams, she worked in the infectious disease ward at St Georges Hospital in Tooting�She said that the hospital had a strict hygiene policy. You'd scrub your hands, go into the ward, put on overalls, and then scrub your hands again. There were no disposable surgical gloves in those days. She said you had to go through the same process on the way out and that all the hand scrubbing made her hands sore.
The nurses were given castor oil cream to soothe their hands, but it had a strong smell that Stella was self-conscious about on the bus ride home. The whole time Stella was a nurse, there was never any cross-infection.

Stella's daughter Wendy became a teacher. Something that Stella was incredibly proud of.
Wendy went on to have five children who often visit Stella. Stella feels blessed that she has her grandkids around her. She says when they leave the house after a visit, 'The silence is deafening.'

Cecil died in 2009. He loved gardening and would grow veg in the back and flowers in the front. Stella remembers that back then, everyone in their Tooting street used to pop in and out of each other’s houses, sharing plants, seeds, and vegetables. It was a friendly, close-knit community.

Cecil planted two beautiful rose bushes in the front garden. In later years, when looking after the garden became too much, Stella had it paved but made sure the builders left Cecil’s roses untouched. Every summer, they still bloom without fail.

RIP Stella 2025

Yesterday, I got a message from Joan’s son Nigel saying that Joan passed away peacefully aged 103. Joan was one of the nicest and most dignified people I’ve photographed, and I’m reposting her story to celebrate her life of quiet resilience.

Joan used to faint at school. After this happened a few times, the doctor was called who said she was anaemic. She was put on iron tablets and cod liver oil and told to stay at home. Joan wanted to go back to school, but the doctor said that she must rest and that it didn't really matter whether or not she went to school because she was just a woman. So at 13, Joans' education abruptly ended.

Jobs were scarce in the countryside, but at 15, Joan got work in a sports shop in the town of Lymington. She lived in the attic room above the shop and worked as a housemaid and in the shop itself.
Once a week, she got a half-day off and would cycle the 8 miles home to the hamlet of Bucklers Hard to visit her parents.
She got friendly with a boy called Charlie who worked in the greengrocers. His mum liked Joan and said she could visit them instead of cycling home if it was raining.
Charlie didn't like working in the greengrocers, so one day he cycled to Bournemouth to join the Grenadier Guards. He was too young, but they let him in because he was a 'tall lad.'
Joan and Charlie married. By their first wedding anniversary, WW2 had broken out. Being a member of the British Expeditionary Forces, Charlie was sent off to France before the regular soldiers.
Joan enlisted into the ATS - Auxiliary Territorial Service - the women's branch of the Army (swipe).
She was posted to Northampton to do her basic training. She learnt to march 'square-bashing.' She was sent to Wi******er and then York, where she worked as an army cook.

Meanwhile, over in France, Charlie got shot by an enemy aircraft on the way to Dunkirk. He was shot in the thigh. Luckily the bullet didn't hit the bone. Joan still has the bullet.

Charlie made it to Dunkirk and was ready to board the hospital ship to take him back to England when it was bombed in front of him.
He was eventually taken back amongst the flotilla of small ships that came to save the soldiers who were stranded on the beaches of France.

Joan loved the ATS. She loved the camaraderie and the responsibility of it all; she also loved all the cooking. She left when she got pregnant with their first daughter. Charlie went on to serve in North Africa and in Italy. He survived the Battle of Monte Cassino in Italy, which cost Allied troops 55,000 casualties.

After the war, Charlie became a painter and decorator, and the couple had 2 more kids, Brenda and Nigel. They moved into their council house in 1962, and Joan still lives there today. Sadly, Charlie died of cancer at just 70.

Joan gets up a 7 and has cereal or porridge every morning. She cooks her main meal from scratch every lunchtime and has something small in the evening. If there's nothing on the telly, she's in bed by 9pm reading. Joan loves reading.
Perhaps it was the discipline of her time in the women's army, but Joan has always been independent and only gave up cycling when she was 85. Her house is immaculate, and she still bakes a cake every week. Fruitcake, sponges, or scones.

Her only regret in life is not finishing school. She would love to have had more of an education and would love to have run her own bakery. One of her 5 grandchildren is now a top patisserie chef (something he must have inherited from Joan). She also has 6 great-grandchildren.

Last year Joan got a letter from a fellow member of the women's army - Queen Elizabeth congratulating Joan on her 100th birthday. Next month she will be 101. (2022)

RIP Joan Collins 1922-2025

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