In memoriam of Maureen Hall

In memory of Maureen Hall 20.09.1930 – 16.06.2019

My mother’s passing was quick and peaceful at home with her family. She leaves a son and two daughters, eight grandchildren and ten great children. She will be sadly missed by all who knew her.

A talented artist, teacher and motivational organiser, Maureen devoted much of her life to nurturing the arts in Burton. In the early 1960s she founded the Tuesday Group of local artists which achieved such success that they were all interviewed on national TV. She arranged numerous art exhibitions in the old Guild Street art gallery then later the new Burton Library and other venues. As a committee member of the Burton Civic Society, working alongside Jim and Olga Lloyd, she played a key role in the commissioning of the iconic Burton Cooper by James Butler RA. The sculpture was unveiled at St Modwen’s Walk in 1977 and later moved to the Cooper’s Square shopping centre. A driving force behind the Burton and District Arts Council, in 1982 she helped commission the ‘Growing Form’ sculpture by Moelwyn Merchant which stands near the Meadowside Centre. Later in the eighties she was instrumental in the establishment of the Brewhouse Arts Centre in Union Street which was opened to the public in 1991. From bridge painting to tree planting in open spaces, Maureen was involved in all manner of schemes to improve the local area, she brought travelling theatre groups and works by leading artists to Burton, and generally did whatever she could to make the town culturally richer.

Maureen was married to Harold Norman ‘Norrie’ Hall, a chartered surveyor with Allied Breweries who rose to become Estates Manager and join the group board. They met while travelling to work between Bradford and Doncaster, always contriving to sit in the same carriage of the train. The story goes that when Maureen asked Norrie for his notion of the ideal woman he pointed to a mirror in which she could see her own reflection and said ‘There she is’. They settled in Burton, then the heart of the brewing industry, and once her three children were old enough Maureen returned to teaching art at Burton Grammar School before retiring to spend more time painting to commission and furthering civic projects. Maureen and Norrie were devoted to one another through nearly fifty years of marriage until Norrie’s sudden death in 2001. Despite this loss, Maureen’s verve and zest for life remained undimmed and there was seldom a day in which she failed to complete the Times crossword in under an hour.

Here is The Sketch

Here is the sketch you drew so sensitively when your fingers were strong
With your gift for capturing life with a line.
It’s on the wall in the room where you liked to sew,
The one with a view of the rowan tree below,
Which grew from a shoot at the old family home.

That house still stands along Stanton Road where you raised your children,
Where we three ran wild through orchards and attics,
Fought with dragons in epic battles,
And raced back to you for kisses and hugs.
Back when Burton always smelt of hops,
And Dad walked over the bridge to the brewery,
There was coal in the outhouse, a mangle and mops,
You played the piano: the nocturnes of Chopin,
And we roamed the fields now covered by houses,
Knowing we’d return to your cooking and stories.

Later your grandchildren would explore the same garden,
Forget it and remember the place where you moved,
Where they brought their own children, almost enough for a football team.

All around is your collection of paintings and sculptures
Each loaded with memories of the places you loved:
Florence and Amsterdam, Madrid and London – the galleries and culture.
On the shelves are your books, your films and keepsakes,
Testament to your intellect, liberality and taste.

On the sideboard there’s a card:
A scene showing a boardwalk down to Holkham Beach.
You loved Norfolk too, the space and the light;
Your walks with friends in Stapenhill Gardens;
Your meals at the Dial, a glass within reach.

On the table is the Times with the crossword half finished.
Surely you’ll be back and have it done in an hour.
In the wardrobe are your jackets, your pretty scarves and dresses.
You were beautiful, you know, Mum, everybody said so.

The soft toy dog sits on your bed where once a real dog lay its head
Curled up beside you. Old Sasha, Flake and Ben,
They all gave you comfort after Dad passed away.
Now you are with him again.

While out in the sunshine, under the dense branches of the tree,
An empty birdfeeder swings in the breeze,
And the blue-tits wait for you to walk out and feed them.


Jenny Barden