Reflections (1938)
‘Tis women’s way –
Or so they say –
To beautify or rectify
Their varied physiognomy
Regardless of economy.
It may be so,
But this I know,
At Telegraph and Times they laugh
Neglected quite they let them lie
And daily to the Mirror fly
Margaret Taylor 1938 (Age 24)
Anatomy (1935)
I’ve donned my erstwhile snow-white coat, my gloves,
I’ve bagged a stool, and joined the other seven,
And now we’re sitting round a thing that once
Was all a self-respecting corpse could wish.
But what’s the good of stuffing my poor head
With facts and figures, measurements and names
Deep-delving oft in many-pag’ed tomes
Searching the mysteries of anatomy
When at the moment when I need them most
They all take wing and fly away, or start
To twist and twirl, to writhe and wriggle so
A tangled mass of most untruthful facts
Remain where ordered knowledge once held sway.
For half an hour – a very long half hour –
The constant stream of questions has gone forth
And answers, not so flowing, been returned:
Answers that made their authors blush in shame,
Or glow with humble pride. O would that I
Might get the question that my neighbours have.
But they can always answer and I get
Instead a most unfair conundrum,
And after meditating on it well
I give up and earn another frown,
And all the facts give yet another squirm
And settle down more jumbled than before.
But slowly, slowly that large minute-hand
Climbs upward jerk by jerk until at last
It is eleven, and we rise, released
And tally ho! for biscuits, coffee, peace.
Meg Rugg-Easey 1935 (Age 21)
The Thyrotoxic Lady (1943)
The lady sitting over there
(with proptosed and unwinking stare)
Is thyrotoxic. It’s not hot
But note that she perspires a lot;
And if you chanced upon the sly
To knock her knee as you went by
(I recommend you take the risk)
You’ld find her knee-jerks rather brisk.
If you sat next to her, and dared
To take her hand you’ld think her scared
For ‘twould be trembling; her pulse rate
Might rise to dizzy heights; a state
Of palpitations in the chest
Would come upon her if you pressed
Her fingers – be not over-bold
Her feelings cannot be controlled.
In fact it is because her nerves
Are so on edge that all the curves
Of female form have worn away
And left her thin and far from gay.
Though she (it cannot be denied)
Eats like a horse, something inside
Must take all value from her food,
It never does her any good.
(Only her neck’s circumference
Enlarges fast at her expense).
All told, the thyrotoxic state
Is one, I fancy, she must hate.
Published in “The Lancet” 1943 (received £5 !)
For Mr Joll
Five thousand incisions of necklace type
Five thousand glands exposed
Five thousand, or more, bits of thyroid removed
And five thousand necks reclosed.
Just think of the innumerable Spencer Wells
Just think of the swabs without end
Just imagine the rows of Michel clips
And the five thousand patients to tend.
May the goitrous patients long flock to A.2.
May their thyroids fall fast in the bowl.
May the thousands increase, Mr Joll, may you reach
(spite of students) the ten thousand goal.
Meg Rugg-Easey 1936
(Mentioned in Meg’s 1937 diary)
Jane
Jane always was a timid girl, a rather shy and timid girl,
And when she went to college she was terrified to death.
She tiptoed up the front steps, the dreadful public front steps,
Then pressed against the wall inside, and almost held her breath.
But somebody soon saw her there, standing lost and silent there
And showed her to the cloakroom where she took off coat and hat,
And after taking ages – yes, she made it take her ages –
She returned to the Common Room – she knew her way to that.
And sitting in a corner, a nice convenient corner,
She watched the others dash about and laugh and joke and yell,
And during all that first week it seems she sat in corners
And why she didn’t die there is more than she can tell.
But now she’s been at college for ages, simply ages,
And you can see her dash about and laugh and yell and joke,
And when she sees the “freshers” sitting frightened in their corners
She can never understand it,
No she cannot understand it
For she says we’re all such kindly, harmless, friendly sort of folk.
Margaret Lilian Taylor 1936
Album 1: A mixed set of photos ranging from the 1920s through to the 1970s
Album 2: Colour photos from the 1970s, 80s and 90s featuring (among others) Jo, Simon and baby Alex, Mrs. Rowe and Auntie Pat
Album 3 Mostly family weddings over the years, and a few other pictures
Album 4: A mixed bag, including early pictures from school, wartime, more weddings, and several friends and family from different eras
Album 5: Early black-and-white pictures of Meg’s parents and the Taylor family
Meg’s diary 1933
Meg’s diary 1932
Meg’s diary 1931
