My mother, Kay Speck, who has died aged 92, blamed all the ills of the world on Margaret Thatcher, and having outlived "that woman", she must have thought it was time to go.
Growing old was something that, as far as Kay was concerned, was for other people. When Gerry, her husband of 32 years and the great love of her life, died suddenly in 1972, she set about reinventing herself. She went to rock concerts in her 50s, came with me and my husband Dick on a three-week rough camping trip in an overland truck to Tanzania in her 60s and danced the tango until 4am in a bar in Buenos Aires in her 70s. She had an amazing ability to make friends wherever she went, regardless of class, race, sex or age.
When Dick and I moved to New York in 1976 for five years, she came twice a year to visit us – developing a love affair with the city – and she always received almost as many birthday and Christmas cards from the US as from Britain. She also came with us to Mali, South Africa, California, Arizona, Florida, Australia (twice), New Zealand, Venezuela, Mexico, Argentina and Tanzania.
Not bad for a small-town girl from Ledbury, Herefordshire, who left school at 14 to train as a hairdresser and who spent most of her working life as a secretary in a bookmaker's office.
Kay is survived by me and Dick, and her sister Pam.