Millicent Theresa Morton

To do justice in a few minutes to a life which, to all intents and purposes, spanned the whole of the Twentieth Century, is of course, an impossible task but Kit and Roger have compiled this little biography of Milly, which will. I am sure, find resonance in all of you here, as it certainly did with me.

Milly Burns was born at 7 Henry St, Bolton, on 23rd July 1905. She was born the 4th child after three boys, and was followed by two sisters, Dora and the youngest, Rene, my mother. Unfortunately the two boys immediately above her had died young, so she became the second child of the family. Her father was manager of a family butcher firm in Bolton, and business was good. So good that Milly often hitched delivery rides in a prestigious client's Rolls Royce- I am sure that would have pleased her! From a house with only outside facilities, they moved within Bolton to Deane, to a three storeyed affair, with electricity! At the age of 11, Milly moved with the family to Sheil Road in Liverpool as the business expanded.
She went to Notre Dame School in Mount Pleasant, which still exists as part of the John Moores university Campus. She progressed into teacher training and eventually took up a teaching post at the same school where she herself had grown up. She was, therefore, the first person in the family to go into higher education at a time when this was a rare event, and even rarer for a woman. She was very bright, and her grand child Pippa records her saying "I was nearly always top of the class, and never lower than 3rd". The family had now moved out of Liverpool to the leafy suburb of Knotty Ash, just down the road from where another young man was to later put that particular part of Liverpool on the map.
Milly's father, Joseph Burns, was a very sociable fellow, who loved company, music and song, and it was Milly who learnt the piano and played all manner of tunes at home for the evenings of revelry and companionship that made him a very popular chap, but were also destined to be his downfall. His pals used to supplement Milly's pocket-money playing "Nap", and from that time on, she loved a game of cards.
With the exception of Uncle Jack, The family survived the 14-18 war, although towards it's end, her beloved elder brother George volunteered for the Royal Flying Corps, crashed in his plane, but fortunately survived in one piece.
After that war, however, business was not so good, and the family fortunes dwindled, and money was tight. In 1926, her father, who adored her, as she did him, died, at the age of 52, leaving the family in some financial difficulty. But somehow or other, with all the children, now all nearly grown up, and mucking in, her mother kept the family house in Knotty Ash going, and it was always a busy household and a lovely atmosphere.
In 1928 a young man on the Liverpool Post came calling, and after what I believe was a difficult courtship, he proposed. The courtship was intense. After walking her home after an evening out, the young man would write a letter, post it, and the letter would arrive promptly for her the next morning. Marriage in Liverpool at that time to a non-Catholic was barred, and no Catholic church would marry them, so in 1930, Cyril Morton took her down to London and they married at Corpus Christi in Maiden Lane, just off the Strand.
Cyril, felt he was ready for bigger things, and moved to London to work on the Daily Express, and moved Milly into a flat in Belsize Park, where she was pretty lonely. Her consolation was that she managed to get Cyril to buy her a grand piano, on which she loved to play, and shortly after, probably to the neighbours relief, they moved out to Whitton, in the Twickenham area, close to an old school and university friend.
In 1934 her first son Kit was born, and just before the war, in April 1939, Roger arrived. Cyril was doing well on the Daily Express as their Chief crime reporter, and on the outbreak of hostilities whistled Milly, and family, up to the Colwyn Bay area, to join her brother George, his wife Muriel and daughter June, where the two families shared a house together for the rest of the war. Food rationing was a continuing problem, and on one occasion the family discovered, on pouring out a somewhat weak cup of tea, that no one had put any tea into the pot! And apparently Roger's butter ration always ended on her plate!
Cyril continued to make his way towards the top in Fleet Street, and there were always things to do and places to go to, first nights and the like. But Milly never came to like the glitzy and shallow life that she saw. She was always a private person, who from her upbringing had learnt to respect money, and a job, and she was always fearful that her husband, despite his reluctance to join the rackety life of the Fleet Street man, would lose his position in the unstable world of journalism.
They moved to Hampton on Thames, and Cyril had moved upwards again to the Daily Mirror in a senior capacity; the two boys were away at Douai, and Milly and husband enjoyed a comfortable life during the fifties, - but, as Milly feared, in 1955, a boardroom coup saw Cyril out of a job at the age of 55. Not for too long, however, and they continued to enjoy a relatively comfortable existence, moving to Ashtead, Surrey, in 1960, until Cyril retired completely in 1965.
During this period, Milly played the harmonium for Mass every Sunday, she gave talks and music recitals, and she ran a local Ladies choir. She loved to go to the Albert Hall, or any ballet, opera or concert she could get tickets for.
Around this time Kit got married and three years later Roger followed suit, and although she was as critical as any mother casting her eye over a wife-to-be, Milly later admitted that her sons could not have done better. Eight grand children arrived at regular intervals, and she was lucky in seeing them often, - but not too often. But she was always interested in each and every one of them, even though she could, on occasion, as all grand-parents, be a little tactless, and a shade critical. She loved them all and they loved and respected her.
During the seventies it was obvious that Milly's knees were giving a lot of trouble. Gradually her walking became extremely painful and this was to dog her for the rest of her days. Cyril died in 1984, but she continued to drive an automatic car for a further few years, until her sight deteriorated too far.
Finally in 1992, at the age of 87, she became a member of this Friary Parish when she came to live with Jo and Kit, where she lived until her death on January 9th She was known as 'Grandma' by all and sundry during this time, listening to Radio 4 and Classic FM, and watching, (or later listening ) to the Tele, keeping abreast of the news at all times. She loved quizzes, crossword puzzles, and comedy programmes. She enjoyed sport in general, but she loved Wimbledon, and had watched, as far as she was able, every match since the days of Drobny and Co. She supported Liverpool, if asked, unless they were playing Bolton. Amazingly, her mind continued to be first rate to the end, enjoying University Challenge on the night before she was taken into hospital, and although she was very ill in her last few days, she had rarely had a real illness during her long life.
Our own personal memories of Mum, Grandma and Auntie Milly will invariably come flooding back on this occasion. For me, it was being treated, as a small boy, to a Knickerbocker Glory at Bentalls in Kingston just after the war, which I remember cost the princely sum of 2/6 and contained exotic things like melon and pineapple - going to my first prom at the Albert Hall - her visit with Uncle Cyril to me and my host family in Germany, when she made a plausible attempt at speaking German - Christmas round the piano in the 40's and 50's in Thomas lane - the recipe for chocolate pudding which still graces my sister's and my dinner parties - I am sure we could all go on for ever. Talking of Chocolate, Roger suggested last weekend that her longevity might be ascribed to her considerable consumption, against all current medical advice, of that delicacy - nobody could demolish a box of chocolates with greater expertise and alacrity than Auntie Milly. I think, however that is was certainly due to her good fortune in remaining at the centre of a loving and caring family, whose multifarious activities enabled her to feel part of life, long after her her physical capacity to enjoy it to the full had abandoned her.
She was, and remained, a staunch Catholic throughout, with a simple belief in Christ, the Rosary, which she said every night, and Christianity. These simple beliefs came occasionally under stress, as events such as those of September 11the took place, but she recovered, as we all do, and placed her trust in the Lord.
She went into Hospital saying her Rosary, and as she lay, semi-comatose on the stretcher, with her family around her, she continued to pray.
Milly had a good life and a long one; it had its ups and downs like everyone has, but she retained her intelligence, her sense of humor, her interest in her family, and by no means least, her faith. May she now rest in peace