Remembering Dot (1937 - 2026)

Chris Moule is a singer and songwriter and Dot's son.  Scarlett Moule is Dot's grand-daughter.

Mazzy's  contribution

                              At 10, Oxford Avenue, circa 1989.

During my first winter as the wife of Donald Iain Buchanan, Dot and Frank came over to our abode with two bin bags of winter clothing for Mazzy (Frank and Dot's call-out name for me).  Frank had attached a little label to the gifts; "For Iain's little tropical flower".  

Oh Frank, if only you knew what Iain knew.  I warned Iain I was no delicate, obedient tropical flower.  I am more of a cactus! Although he thought I was too hard on myself and likened me to my favourite wild flower: the bunga tahi ayam (chicken shit flower), a shrub very much loved by tropical birds.  By the way the botanical name is lantana camara.

A birthday present inspired by the lantana in our garden.

That gift for my first Leicester winter was the introduction to the warm and generous spirit that was second nature to you.

Dot, I recall this with much joy and affection

There was Frank's blue station wagon, his workhorse for going to work.  Iain mentioned to me about Frank's bag, his mother's bag; where he kept his work tools.  That bag went with Frank to wherever he was going during his working days.

So it travelled with us when we went to London, your first time  you said.  Iain and I got you and Frank and Ann tripping from one Tube station to another, to all the must-see places for tourists, both foreigners and the natives like the good folks from Birstall.

But we four agreed that  London was not a patch on the North East where we had a wild time with Iain's Aunt Peggy.  Peggy was very familiar with Bishop Auckland where she lived,  County Durham and Northumberland, and the Yorkshire Moors of course.  

The Infamous Four plus Peggy, at Captain Cook's Cottage, Whitby.  There were no smart phones then for 'selfies', only smarter dinosaurs!

But that Christmas with Peggy in 1988  "takes the Xmas pudding", and as Peggy was happy living without TV, Iain especially had a wonderful time.

Christmas Day 1988.

But the piece de resistance was when we nudged you both to take a holiday with us in Singapore and Malaysia.

Melaka (left) and Singapore (right).  But you both prefererred Malaysia to Singapore.

On that visit Dot, you taught me an important lesson, more than most of the academics I have come across during my time as a student and a professional.  You enlightened me on an everyday aspect of life in my neck of the woods which I have taken for granted: the beauty and the wonder of the washing line and the gift from the sun.

We were then staying at Tanjung Bidara, Melaka.  After breakfast, we went for a walk to a Malay village just within walking distance of our hotel.  And Dot said, "What lovely colours and shapes, Maz", as she gazed at the washing on the washing line strung from one coconut tree to another; swaying and blowing on a gentle breeze on that lovely morning in a kampung by the seaside in Melaka.  "In Leicester, we will never get that sweet scent of the sun on our washing".  Dot added.   I was stunned at her observation.  After that, and till today, I never stop appreciating the sweet, crispy scent of my dry washing in our abode in suburbia, Kuala Lumpur.  And I also remember and thank  the wisdom of Dot, my mate from Leicester, for reminding me to appreciate the simple gifts of nature that we are now desecrating and destroying to kingdom come.  Thank you Dot.

 

 You hated writing and so did I.  I only changed my ways from living and learnng from Iain. But I remember how you diligently kept a diary during that holiday in Singapore/Malaysia.  While sorting and packing our stuff a few months ago,  I discovered this letter  from you and Frank.  What a gift from 1990 to boost my will and energy for the big move in 2026! 

 

Before Whatsapp came into our life.

    I was then away in Malaysia to keep my mother company during her second cataract operation.  Iain was left to fend for himself.  Although I only left instructions for you two to check on any ladies popping in and out of Oxford Avenue during my absence, Frank did a superb job of popping in every now and then for many cuppas and chats on the Social and Economic history of UK and the western world, the roles of the IMF and the World Bank, the Gold Standard etc etc .  

But Dot,  according to Iain you were priceless. 

According to him, you are the only 'other woman' he has time for.

After Frank passed away in 2004 and after Iain's diagnosis of prostate cancer in 2005 and we lost faith in the NHS and decided on Malaysia for treatment, and with Covid, our communication were few and far between.

This June , with the help and support of Steve and his wife Debi, Jacqui and her partner Giz and that tech-genius Christopher  I met up with my dearest friend in Leicester, to recall our happy days as the Famous Four and life with our beloved mardy(some of the time), grumpy (most of the time) ole gits Frank Moule and Iain Buchanan.  I reckon those two are the best washer-uppers in the whole wide world.  How we love them to bits.

Where do I begin .......... ?

I shall remember forever that look on your face when we finally met, the sweetest smile and the love in your eyes

Fare thee well dearest Dot. May flights of angels wing you on your way.  I  love you and will miss you forever.

Each night before we switch off the light, Iain would give me a kiss and whisper, "Good night love, see you in the morning. Love you."

Good night Dot.  See you later.

I love you.  xxx

For the last one left standing, nothing rhymes.