“Memories That Never Leave You”

The other night on British Television there was a programme on that revealed some shocking truths about a popular MP albeit now Dead, who was also a TV Personality, his name was Clement Freud, Member of Parliament.

The programme would reveal such sickening events that ruined Women’s lives, how many well the full number we may never know.

There was one Lady who finally after all this time, and I refer back to the 1950s/60s/70s she bravely revealed all that had been done to her by this MP, who in fact had been Knighted by the Queen.  He should have that Knighthood removed now.

This is not all about what was done to these brave Ladies, although the details that one specific Lady gave I found horrific, what this disgusting thing called a man Clement Freud did to this Lady.  Rape, it went beyond that.

What I am writing you may well ask , what am I really wanting to say.  Well what I want to say is, I watched this programme with my youngest Son shocked at what this scum had done to an innocent girl and others.  As this specific Lady spoke about all that had been done to her, I listened intently and felt the tears coming down my cheeks.

Tears not only for this Lady but tears brought on because of my own memories.  I had never been Raped, or at least I don’t think so.  Some years ago I saw a Counsellor as I suffered Depression and during one session as the Counsellor asked me some questions, regarding my late Mother, the whole business of the Counselling was about my Mother.  I started to cry and revealed something I had thought I had locked away.

On Summer Holidays spent in Ireland, both my Father and Mother came from Southern Ireland and we would as it was said “go home” every year.  My Father’s Parents were long dead and my Mother had seen to it that my Father no longer saw his Family.  So every year we would “go home” to see Nana and Grandad, my Mother’s Brother (she had two but only one she spoke to so we only saw him to say “hello” and “Goodby” and my Auntie Hannie (that I absolutely adored) and her Family that lived in Cork.

It was always at Nana and Grandad’s that we stayed, and as a small Child it is said I used to follow my Mother’s much looked up to, much loved and obeyed Eldest Brother Timmy around.  I don’t remember that.  Timmy could never do any wrong, not at least in my Mother’s eyes.  As I grew older and then into adulthood there always seemed something so odd about the way my Mother had this devotion to her Brother, it was not like a normal devotion, as Catholics it was as though my Mother regarded him  as Jesus.  That is a wrong thing for me to say but she honestly did.  One time many many years later when my Mother would start one of her arguments with me she told me she was so good she would go straight to Heaven when she died, I informed her she would have to face Our Lord before that, to which she informed me she would not have to she was better than the Virgin Mary – she believed that crap she said, odd to say the least.

As I grew and entered Puberty my Mother would tell me nothing about what was happening to my Body and if I asked I was always told “I don’t want to hear that dirty talk” so I was ignorant of anything about Sex and the changes happening to my Body.  She would not even discuss what happened when I started to bleed, “that’s enough I don’t want to hear” she would say, gave me a packet of Sanitary Towels and that was that.

On holiday at Nana and Grandad’s Cottage, Timmy would sit outside the Cottage and as there was no indoor toilets, the Fields I would have to go, always looking out because the Boys on the other Farm could be seen sometimes peeking through the hedges.  Happy times?  Going back to the Cottage I would have to pass Uncle Timmy sitting outside, “come here” he would say and then he would raise his hands and touch my little breasts making comments that they were growing.  As they grew bigger he could not refrain from touching my breasts, twisting them, feeling my nipples to this day I feel sick, I can still feel those hands.

Perhaps you would say that is nothing, and if it was a man I was in Love with wanted, then that would be different.  But this was my Uncle and I HATED IT.  I was not Raped, well I believe I was not by him or someone else, but I have been told that could have happened and I locked it completely away.  I don’t believe I was, but who knows.

What I do know is, how these poor Women who are Raped, either by strangers or someone they know, how do they cope.  What happened to me was nothing compared to what they go through. Women, one woman in particular had to go through so much, attacked by this Clement Freud.  Yes the Freud, same Family.

Women are marked for Life, it haunts them their lives are ruined.  I know with me despite always being told how attractive I was and invitations to go out I could never, something inside me always stopped me – fear?  who is to say.

I was ignorant of sex, shy not allowed to go to the Cinema on my own, then only allowed to see “clean films”.  Always escorted my  Sister everywhere even shopping, I felt a Prisoner, not allowed to read certain books my Mother threw a fit when she discovered I was reading “Peyton Place”, the book was taken, I never did get to read it.  One of my favourite Poets, I dare not have his books to read, I would be taken to the Priest!  I was a Bird locked in a cage.  I chose a man who worked for the same Company, The Prudential, to Marry who was 30 years older than me, safety?  Some people told me I wanted a Daddy figure or even that my Husband to be was my “Sugar Daddy, he was a long way from that.  My Wedding Night was a complete disaster, he turned to me in the bed and said “You’re tired I’m tired so go to sleep”,  so I spent my Wedding Night crying with him ignoring me.  When the Marriage was consummated the next afternoon, I have little or no memory of it.  I wanted to be loved I wanted what any young innocent naive young girl wanted – I was 26 more like 19/20 I wanted  love.

My Husband never told me he loved me, I did not have an Engagement Ring I was told “we” could not afford it, we had no Honeymoon, stayed in our new Home for five days, then he went back to work, he made me give up my job.  My Marriage had begun, my life of washing/ironing/hoovering did I regret it straight away, I don’t think so but I did blame myself, I still do that it was my fault there was no real Sex that all now I want should have happened then but did not because OF ME.  I wanted Children, my Husband told me just after we married he did not want Children, I was finally allowed two.  On the birth of each Son as he handed our new Son to me my Husband would say the same thing “well you have a Son to look after you”, in other words he did not have to.  When one evening I started to miscarry with what would have been our second Child  he said he was going to bed had to be up early next morning, he left me sitting on the Sofa in our Living room, crying my eyes out, scared so wanting this baby.  I miscarried the next day, and phoned him at the office to hear “nothing I can do about it here” from him.  Yes, I blamed myself it was all my fault.

My Sons tell me that what was done to me by my Uncle was Sexual Assault and in fact Incest as he was my Mother’s Brother, my Mother used to insist I always go to the outhouse to watch Uncle Timmy shaving, I hated that.  One time and one time only was it ever mentioned by me to my Mother.  When one day after he had touched me again and uttered his words, I went to my Mother and told her hoping it would stop.

It did not stop and my Mother hit me, I think she liked hitting me I know she enjoyed using Bamboo Canes on my back and bottom, she even told my Sons when they asked her about it “well your Mother never got enough of it”, she kept that same bamboo cane in her bedroom to the day she died.  When she did my eldest Son broke it in two.

What added to my anguish were they words my Mother used when I went to her for help, she said “you are a dirty little bitch with your lies I don’t want to hear it again”, I told her I would tell my Daddy and she told me “your daddy has heart trouble you tell him and he will die”.  It is stranger how one remembers word for word.  The one person, my Mother I thought would listen and help me, have it stopped, did nothing she blamed me, as she always did for everything.   My Mother was far too close to her “Saintly Brother, I know now my Father was always uncomfortable about him.  Timmy Married a girl  much younger and used to boast how he would sit in his car at lunchtime and watch Peggy in her Gym knickers in the Playground – if that happened now he would be arrested.  She died of Cancer when she was in her early Forties.

I still go cold at the thought of my Uncle’s hands, the look on his face and the words he spoke.  Maybe what he did made me cold, I do know  if I really really fell in love with the right man then I would love him in every way possible. Too late now.

I feel for all those Ladies and Men who have locked away all those Sexual assaults, Rapes that they were put through.  Here in England so much has been hidden, Entertainment World,  Political World – too many prepared to hide the truth and save the pervert Friends.  Now finally Justice has been seen to be done, there is more and more and I wish all those people luck in finally getting Justice and more to come.

No One has the right to touch the bodies of a Child, grown Woman or Man for their own perverted pleasure.  These Perverted People use their clever words, threats etc to make sure the person Assaulted/Raped says nothing.  When a Child/Man or Woman turns to someone close to them for help tells them what has been done to them LISTEN DON’T TURN AWAY THE CHILD/PERSON  –   LISTEN AND HELP.  We need that help, because we never forget, cant forget what was done to us, there are always times when it comes back to haunt us, we battle within ourselves that we were not to blame.  Physical Scars eventually go but the mental scars always remain.






I chose this music, as it represents the periods I was referring to – also I became a Loner, never lonely just preferred my own Company.  Always had music around me still do, encouraged to write saved me – write anything and you find how powerful words can be.






3 thoughts on ““Memories That Never Leave You”

  1. Anna – I’m glad you are writing it down. What Freud did was disgusting. He should have been locked up. I’ve said before that you should write it all down – the good and the bad. It will help you process it. It may help.
    I particularly like your good advice. we should always listen.


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