It took me quite some time to feel strong enough to pick up clearing Paul’s stuff from where I left off earlier in the year. His side of the wardrobe had become something of a dump for unwanted clothes over the years.

Feeling the time was probably right, I gathered some bin bags and began the task. One bag of good clothes found their way to the local charity shop. Two bags were filled with ratty stuff at which even moths would turn up their noses.

Right at the back, though, was a surprise. It wasn’t a secret door that led to a magical snow-covered forest. It was a school blazer.

A little back story may be called for.

Paul was born at the start of November 1939, in East London. Just before the German air force decided to do some urban regeneration a year later, Paul’s family moved to the border between Northamptonshire and Buckinghamshire, to the rural hamlet of Haversham. It was in this area, which is now a suburb of Milton Keynes, that my late husband grew up.

In 1950, Paul sat the 11+ examination. He passed, and attended the Wolverton Grammar School. Many were the stories he told me of his time there, and almost all were happy ones. 

Like most schools of the time, a fairly strict uniform policy was in place. I suspect it was white shirt and school tie, grey flannel trousers, black shoes, and a maroon blazer, with a badge on the breast pocket. I have no idea of how much the ensemble might have cost, but I suspect it was a fairly significant expense for a working family at the time. 

Quite why the blazer and tie were safely kept through nearly eight decades and three house moves may never be known. Perhaps Paul’s mother kept the things for sentimental reasons. I don’t know. Either way, I found myself wondering just what the heck I was supposed to do with an old school blazer!

It didn’t feel right to simply stuff it in a bag and chuck it out. A quick search on the internet revealed that the grammar school no longer existed. It had merged some years back with other schools in the area, and I didn’t suppose the current high school would be at all interested in such an artefact.

A little more pondering, and then I wondered if the Milton Keynes museum might be interested. I emailed them with the suggestion, fully expecting to be rejected.

On 27 October, I received an email:

“We are sorry for your loss and thank you for thinking of Milton Keynes Museum.

“Your email regarding your husband’s school blazer has been passed to our collections team for consideration. They meet on the second Tuesday of each month and would come back to you as soon as possible after their next meeting. If there is any possibility of a photo, that would be of great help to them.

“Thank you again for thinking of us.”

I was a little surprised, but I happily took some photos and sent them on.

Come 11 November:

“The museum would love to acquire this blazer! Can you liaise a time with me to come and drop this off please?”

Wow!

After a bit of to-ing and fro-ing, we settled on 3 December for me to hand the blazer and tie over to the museum.

Paul and I made a habit of staying with a friend in Stony Stratford for a couple of weeks every summer. It was the area in which Paul had grown up, and we enjoyed many happy days of exploring, photographing, and generally discovering all sorts of interesting things. I thought it might be nice to revisit some old haunts, and I booked a night at a local chain hotel so I could travel up the day before the handover and do a bit of exploring.

Happily, the sun shone for my visit. I walked around Stony. It was familiar and friendly. The town had put up the Christmas lights. It didn’t feel like it used to, though. Some old shops were gone, many were empty, and things felt different. I got in my car and drove out to Wolverton, and Haversham to say goodbye to the house Paul grew up in. Then I went on to Castlethorpe and Hanslope, before heading to the museum. 

I realised, though Paul and I had enjoyed our visits to the area, there was nothing there for me on my own. It was familiar, but subtly different. I felt an outsider, looking in. It was something we shared, and it simply didn’t work for me on my own. That is sad, but perhaps it was time to consign North Bucks to happy memories, and move on. 

I drove to the Milton Keynes Museum. If you get the chance to visit, do make an effort. It’s a lovely museum, set in an old farm, and it’s helping to preserve the memory of an agricultural area before the new town arrived. It’s also where the infamous concrete cows now live! I met with the Collections Conservator, signed a form, and handed the blazer over. I did a quick tour of the museum, busy with the noise of school parties, and then headed back home. 

Paul, I like to think, would have been chuffed to bits to know his old school blazer is now part of a museum collection. Perhaps, until the time was right, that is why it was kept safely at the back of his wardrobe for all these years.