Category: Corton: People

Wednesday 30th January 2013

Molly Carey, photographed by Dave Simpson.

 The funeral of Molly Carey was held today (Wednesday 30th January 2013) at St. Mary’s Church, Boyton, in the Wylye Valley.  The service, attended by over 30 people, was conducted by Reverend Jane Shaw. The hymns All Things Bright And Beautiful and We Plough The Fields And Scatter, both chosen by Molly, were sung. The Bible reading was John 14, verses 1 to 6. Reverend Shaw said that Molly’s many gifts of kindness and hospitality will have ensured Molly a place close to God. Reverend Shaw adapted a rhyme from schooldays years ago, to suit Molly: 

My name is Molly Carey, Britain is my nation, Corton is my dwelling place and Heaven my destination.

Molly had lived in Corton for over 50 years, but after stays in hospital, she spent her final days at Greengates, Westbury, and then Henford House Nursing Home, at Lower Marsh Road, Warminster, where she passed away on Friday 18th January 2013. She was 93. Her funeral was ably carried out by F. Curtis & Son, of Portway, Warminster. Following the church service, cremation took place at the West Wiltshire Crematorium, at Semington. Family and friends then gathered at the Fane Hall, Corton, for refreshments and to recollect moments from Molly’s long life. A slide show about Molly was shown.

There were three tributes to Molly at the Church service. The first, a brief pen portrait of Molly was read by Reverend Jane Shaw:

Born in 1913, Molly was a post-war baby, the youngest of four – of her three older brothers, one died young. She grew up in Witney, an area she loved and to which in later years she often reverted in her memories. It was a strict up-bringing – she used to complain that her brothers could get away with it, but she never did. Even aged 20 she was still expected to be back home by 9.00 p.m.

For her, as for many young women of her age, the Second World War was a time of liberation and new opportunities. She joined up to the Army, and spent time manning gun emplacements and then learning to cook – probably for very large numbers, which must have stood her in good stead for later entertaining UFO enthusiasts. In preparation for D-Day she was packing nuts and screws for support vehicles. Always a sociable person, she made a lot of friends during the war, many of them Americans, of whom some would be black Americans – perhaps unusual for an English countrywoman at that time. 

After the war she returned to Witney and took a housekeeping job for a time; she and George Carey senior met and married in the early fifties, and Merilyn was also born during this time, George junior five years later. Merilyn can’t be with us but has sent a tribute which I will read in a minute. George and Molly set up home together and bought a farm in Corton – but sadly George died in 1962. Three years later Molly sold the farm and moved into Corton village, where she remained for nearly 50 years, until very recently.

Always alert and curious, Molly took a great interest in ancient stones, ley lines and unidentified flying objects, sightings of which were at that time constantly in the news, with Warminster being a focal point. David Simpson has done a superb film of Molly reminiscing about “sky-watching” on Cradle Hill including some hilarious accounts of hoaxers . . . . but she will be remembered for her generous hospitality to UFO-watchers, inviting them back to her house to eat and sleep. She also became involved with Mencap, of which Veronica will tell us more. For some years she attended the Steeple Langford Luncheon Club, where I gather everyone liked her and found her good fun. Also in the spirit of fun, she would provide for the Corton Church fete an “unrideable bicycle”, which proved irresistible to children.

More recently, after spells in hospital, she moved first to Greengates at Westbury and then to Henford House in Warminster, where she died peacefully on Friday 18th.

Reverend Shaw then read out a tribute written by Molly’s daughter Merilyn (who has lived in Africa for many years):

Molly was . . . .
Mary Evelyn Faulkner born on 26th June 1919 in Witney, Oxfordshire. She was 20 years old when the Second World War broke out, and like everyone else did her bit for her country. There are many tales to tell here but other relatives may cover this.

Most of us remember her as Molly, a rather scatty hippy icon who was at her best when surrounded by others. She had a big heart and never even blinked when 38 people slept in every corner of her modest house.

As her daughter, I experienced her support in everything I set out to do. When I passed the 11 Plus in 1961, women were still not liberated. My father and his friends saw no need to send a girl to a grammar school. It was mum who had a stand-up row with my father and won the day for someone who might otherwise have sunk into village oblivion. Because of her my journey set off.

Molly was a believer in girl power.

Dad died in 1962 and mum herself became liberated. She now stood alone with two small children to raise. We had a small farm in Corton which needed to be run. Mum had never had a bank account and had no idea how to write a cheque. Neighbours assisted her – particularly the Witt family – and at 12 years old I learnt how to write cheques. However, mum did not display good business sense and finally decided to sell the farm in 1965. She was thinking of my brother George. She had experienced the struggle of running a smallholding and did not want him to experience the same. Thus she also influenced the path my brother would follow.

Molly was always thinking ahead by charting our paths.

After dad’s death mum sank into a deep depression. Such illnesses were not acknowledged by the medical practitioners of that day. One was supposed to have a starched spine and a stiff upper lip. Molly could not quite manage that. She did her best as she sank more and more inside herself. My brother and I found it hard to understand but just accepted her the way she was.

Molly was to suffer sickness and depression for many years.

She would continue to influence my path when the transition from ‘O’ to ‘A’ level arrived. I had resolved to leave school because the family needed a wage earner. She confronted me on this and said that she had money in the bank and not to worry. I had wanted to do ‘A’ levels but this had seemed like an impossible dream . . . .  Three weeks after I started the sixth form, I discovered the ‘money in the bank’ amounted to £25. When I tried to leave school she would not let me and insisted I follow my dream.

I think she did this because she was a frustrated intellect. She was clever and had a very active brain but had left school at 14 to work in a factory – just because she was a girl. She did not have a chance at more than basic education. Who knows what she may have become if she could have pursued her educational dreams.

Molly was so much – but what more could she have become?

Many people may not know that she was a respected amateur botanist who corresponded regularly with Kew Gardens. She contributed to the mapping of The Flora Of Wiltshire. In her search for flowers she could be seen crawling across corn stubble with a magnifying glass. Her ‘batty but harmless’ reputation was born. Her studies led her to the realisation that pesticides were affecting the flora. She also realised that some rare flowers were disappearing. She set up a hidden garden and cultivated rare species and then transplanted them back into the wild.

Molly was a conservationist long before the word was mainstreamed.

Molly was an eco warrior who would have willingly hugged trees and abused the status quo to save the environment.

She found consolation in books and set out to get a PhD from the university of life. Her chosen field was paranormal events and ancient alien theory. Her love affair with “the stones” started here and added to her eccentricity. She tried so hard to converse with respected academics and present her theories to them. Had she had a string of letters after her name they may have listened to her. She certainly knew her stuff. She did not have the letters so they did not listen to her. However, working on her theories lifted her out of depression and seemed to give her something to live for.

Molly was an enthusiastic student and intellectual.

It was not surprising that when UFOs started to appear around Warminster in the late sixties that she should get involved. Going “up the hill” to look for flying saucers became a weekly event. I believe a number of people who met her there have come to see her off today. I was in my late teens but instead of clubbing I was “up the hill”. Those were very good days for us all. Molly became “mother” to so many visitors to the hill.

Molly was very generous and opened her house as a free doss house for all and sundry.

Because of her support, I was able to move on to higher education and start life as a teacher. This career took me to Africa where I met my husband and settled. After 40 years, I still teach.

On my infrequent trips home Molly would show me off. We would be at the cash till in Safeways when she would announce: “This is my daughter. She lives in AFRICA.” I was told that she followed all my trips with an atlas.

Mother Carey was proud of her chickens.

I have not made it back to the UK for 22 years. I last saw her in 1990 when she was a sprightly 70-year old. She embraced my decision to marry and settle so far away and welcomed my husband into the family.

Molly was a prolific letter writer. She used to send long and very entertaining letters. As she grew older the letters became less frequent and finally stopped.

I was not around during mum’s twilight years but I believe she managed to pack so much into her life. She had a long life, not always happy, not always fulfilled, but she never gave up. My memories of her stop at 70 years – fit and healthy and still able to dance and throw her legs about. They are good memories.

We loved her very much.

Because of what she was – we are what we are. Thank you mum.

Veronica Burden, of Warminster Mencap Society, read out her tribute:

My tribute to Molly. Molly was so proud of her son and her daughter and her grandchildren. Her own childhood was spent, with her two brothers, in and around Witney in Oxfordshire. Fortunately she found the joys of life. 

Molly believed in equality. She joined in with the local Mencap group, just after the old Workhouse at Semington had been closed, and our four folks came to live with us at the Tynings. Molly took several club members out and about in Corton and made sure they had a good time. Molly was so wise about Mother Nature. She loved sharing her joy of nature, the wild birds, the animals, or taking a close look at nature’s gifts around you. And she would tell tales of the great big bull they had at the farm. She took time to make sure everyone around her were happy. She couldn’t wait for Christmas to come, to join in the fun. There was always laughter wherever Molly was. 

Molly loved taking Mencap Club members on holidays. We would go to places like Blackpool and Wales. And we would meet our friend Lord Rix. Molly was so kind and caring. She was so wise, she loved life and made sure that everybody else around her were happy. There never was a dull moment. She even laughed when she lost her teeth out of the window of the hotel. She knew happiness. She was very able at cheering people up when the going was tough. If they were worried or sad and having a quiet reflective time, the next moment they would be happy, thanks to Molly.

My lasting nightmare was when Molly insisted she would have a go at gliding. The Mencap Club had been offered the opportunity by a flying group on the other side of Salisbury. She was sixty plus years, nearly 70, but Molly was the first to put her name down. I was mortified at her keenness, terrified that something would go wrong. When I insisted that she got her doctor’s permission, she was so cross. She told her family so. She mentioned me to them. But she was determined. Back she came with her form filled out by her GP. “I am going gliding and you can’t stop me!” Whilst her glider was being towed up into the sky the rope, on whatever, broke prematurely and down she came. I ran over, at great speed, terrified. I was mortified at the knees. Up she popped and said “That got you!” And “I’m going up again.” Up they went again. I will never forget that nightmare. 

I recall Molly’s pride when teaching folk about painting and colour. She was very artistic and was so creative all her life. She was also a great storyteller. Molly would relate her tales of UFO time. And she was always giving folk the opportunity to look for faces in her pictures of Stonehenge and Avebury. She never missed the opportunity to do that. That was very dear in her heart.

History tells me that Molly had a pet parrot and could often be seen around the village, or walking out to Upton Lovell with her parrot on her shoulder.

Molly was a very kind person. So caring. She gave of her time. She just loved all that life had to offer. I will never forget her kindness. We shall all miss her very much.