Looking Back with Jac: Life Nanny Val’s way

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As I think of this beautiful lady the words ‘Nanny Val’ come to mind, as they do for so many of her “little Vegemites”.

Generations of families have fondly known her by that name.

When she welcomes you under her wing, you are there for life, whenever you see her or need her.

At 85 years of age, I am in awe of her beauty, her frankness and her incredible sense of humour that acts as a shield for her journey through life.

Valerie Meadowcroft was born in Liverpool, England on July 17, 1938.

The only child of Joe and Pat Caples - Joe from a family of eight and Pat one of four children - extended family was a huge part of her life.

“After coming home from the Second World War where dad was a sergeant in the army, he worked his way to becoming the boss of a department store similar to Myer in Australia.”

Val speaks fondly of her childhood and loved school, except for a particular head mistress who she said “should have had a broomstick to get around on”.

“At six years old I started dancing lessons, and from then on I danced as often as I could,” she recalled.

“Later in life I received a dance scholarship and went on to teach ballet, tap and ballroom dancing until I moved to Australia.”

During World War II the family lived just outside Liverpool, which was always getting bombed.

“We were lucky we had a pretty big house, so all the family used to get on the buses and trains and stay at our house because it was safe,” she said.

“As a child I loved having my cousins around. It was a game to us,” she said, saying they were mostly unaware of the devastation going on around them.

“We had to keep the house dark at night as any form of light might aid enemy aircraft to bomb your house.

“I remember the night of May 8, 1945 when Clifford (her closest cousin) and I sticky-nosed out the window and the street lights were on.

“There was laughter and music, people crying in the streets and I thought what in the blazes was all that noise?

“It was the night the end of the war was declared. Blinds were thrown open, radios turned on and we raced into the streets in our pyjamas.

“We joined the families dancing in the streets.”

Val recalls a happy childhood, but one frightening incident after the war is etched in her memory forever.

“Dad and I were walking down the backyard to feed the chooks when he stopped suddenly and said, ‘Val go back inside’.”

She later found out it was an incendiary bomb caught among the trees.

“The whole family was confined to barracks for a few hours until the soldiers came and took it away,” she said.

Bonfire night was another special memory that would take place each November.

“There was an empty block of land at the top of our road,” she said.

“Everyone used to take whatever would burn and once the fire was going we would throw a spud in and have roast potatoes while the crackers were being let off.

“It was great fun and it didn’t cost an arm and a leg.”

Val later studied teaching at university, specialising in brain injured and handicapped children.

Her interest had been sparked by a cousin who had been hit by a car and suffered a brain injury.

“I also learned self defence, as the age range I taught and was a carer for went from five up to 55.”

She loved all kinds of music and became friends with Paul McCartney of The Beatles’ fame.

“He lived next door to one of my aunts.

“I think we always knew the band would become famous.

“I used to go to the Parly Club where the boys used to perform.

“Dad gave them their first paid job for a Christmas party, where the act that was to perform had to pull out last minute.

“I phoned Paul and told him to round up the rest of the boys and come over to the party.

“The Beatles were paid five pounds each for their gig that night.”

Val moved to Australia after meeting her future husband, Philip Meadowcroft, in England in 1958. He was there on holiday.

“We got engaged in 1959 and moved to Australia in 1960,” she said.

“We got married in the Uniting church and Uncle Bert gave me away, as no one from England could attend - including mum and dad.

“In my second week in Deni I was introduced to Irene Holschier (who has just passed) and we were friends ever since.

“In the following years we had three children - Karen, Tracie and Andrew.

“Mum and dad moved to Australia in January 1964 and (dad) took up a job with Max Motors in Deniliquin.”

Philip’s family owned Meadowcroft’s Transport in Deniliquin and Val said “it wasn’t long before I learned to drive trucks from here to Melbourne”.

The business was the first to get a three-deck stock crate and ran about 21 trucks.

“A Deniliquin Pastoral Times photographer came to the yards wanting the three-deck truck moved for a better shot,” she said with a grin.

“He asked Philip if he could move it forward, he turned to me and said, ‘hop in the truck and move it up a little bit’.

“The photographer was stunned and asked if I could drive.”

“Philip said, ‘Well she drives to Melbourne and back, so I guess she can’,” Val said, proud of her accomplishment.

Val’s daughters Tracie Dashwood and Karen Martin still live in Deniliquin.

Her son Andrew ‘Herman’ Meadowcroft was tragically killed in January 1994 while working as an undercover officer for Federal Police.

Philip and Val divorced in 1979.

Val was integral in setting up a school for the intellectually disabled in Deniliquin where she accepted the role of principal. It would later become Yallambee/Kurrajong.

“A discussion group started in 1969.

“We started off in the old building at the back of the Uniting Church in Edwardes Street.

“After lots of fundraising we eventually moved to the building in Napier Street.

“I worked there for 10 years until the Department of Education took over.”

From there Val worked for Tim Fischer in both his stints in NSW Parliament, including his tenure as Deputy Prime Minister.

“He nominated me for Australian citizenship, of which I’m very proud,” she said.

As her children were growing up, it was their love of sport that introduced her to her beloved ‘Ramland’.

“I must admit when I saw my first game of Aussie rules, I wondered what the hell it was after growing up on soccer and rugby,” she confessed.

In 1985, Andrew was coaching at Rams and Val’s then partner Allan Charlton was helping out.

“The secretary spot was unable to be filled so I volunteered to do it for a few months, which turned out to be much of my lifetime.

“The friendship and support I have had over the years, even when the chips were down are the best of all.

“I lost three family members in seven months. Thank god I had people there that were behind me to pick me up.

“Kerrie Brain is another who I call my ‘adopted sister’, and we have been friends for that long it doesn’t make sense.”

This year marks 40 years of service to the Rams for both Val and Michael Bennett, lifelong friends who speak almost daily.

“I remember Gary Parsons with his fourth premiership.

“I was standing beside the box and when the siren went, I was thrown up in the air. It was bloody Gary,” she said laughing.

“I said to him the other day that if you win next year will you throw me in the air again?

“He said ‘I don’t quite remember doing that Val’. I said well I bloody can, and he just stood there and laughed his head off.

“I was honoured with life membership in 1995 and Volunteer of the Year in 2006.

“After being with the Rams Football Netball Club for 28 years in 2012, I was awarded the Deniliquin Sports Person of the Year. I was gobsmacked.”

Val has also worked every year at the Deni Ute Muster since the introduction of the Bundy Bar.

“People ask me why I do it,” she said.

“I like to chat to people and it is better than sitting around doing nothing.

“I now have eight grandkids, 19 great grandkids and numerous ‘adopted’ grandies at the footy club.

“Only the good die young, so I think I’ll be here for a long time. I think that’s why I’m still here,” she said laughing.

“Old Nic (the devil) doesn’t need an off-sider at the moment. He’s a bit busy, so he’s leaving me alone.”

By this stage I have nearly rolled off the seat with laughter, between Val’s accent, facial expressions and devious tone, I was in fits of laughter.

“If my feet touch the ground in the morning I’m here to annoy you for another day,” she continued.

“After I’m gone if I have a cremation it will be the only time I have a smokin’ hot body.

“Some of my ashes can go on the roses and the rest in the middle of the footy oval.

“Most players were concerned of me haunting them if they were performing badly.

“So life is good for this old girl, the grandma of Ramland.”