Tribute to Jacquelyn (Jackie) Solly, nee Solman

Jacquelyn (Jackie) Solly, nee Solman

Born 17 September 1928, died 26 December 2025.

Jackie Solly was not a famous woman. She grew up in a poor, working class family in Maidstone, Kent, and attended Maidstone Art School, where she specialised in dressmaking and calligraphy. For some time after she left Art School she worked at Worth's, one of London's leading fashion houses, making clothing for the rich and famous. She only left there when her mother became ill and asked her to return to Maidstone to look after her.

At Art School she met John Solly, who became a potter, and whom she married in 1953. (He died just before their 51st wedding anniversary in 2004.) Thereafter she taught dressmaking, pursued her interest in painting, pastels and ceramic art, assisted John in running pottery summer schools, and raised three children.

Jackie was a member of the Church of England and played a full part in the life of Peasmarsh church in East Sussex after she and John moved there in 1986. They are now buried in the same grave in the peaceful rural churchyard.

This tribute is an extract from the eulogy presented at her funeral on behalf of her children, Jonathan, Richard and Clare.

Some of our mother's father's family were very involved in the Wesleyan Methodist Church, and from time to time, as a small child, our mother was taken to the Wesleyan Chapel in Maidstone. Here she may well have heard the rousing hymn by Charles Wesley, 'Oh for a thousand tongues to sing my dear Redeemer's praise'.

No amount of tongues could exhaust the praise our mother deserves from us. No praise would be adequate to express her infinite worth. Nothing we could say about her, nothing we have ever done for her, could recompense her for all she has done for us. She bore us patiently in her womb. She endured the pains of childbirth for us. She nurtured and protected us. She and our gentle father gave us an example of kindness and mutual adoration which made the world seem safe and full of love to us. She taught us how to be human beings. She corrected our wrongdoing with kindness and consideration. She surrounded us with unconditional love. She never ceased worrying about us, always wanting what was best for us. She calmed our fears, gave wise advice and supported us in finding our way in life even when our decisions were not the ones she would have made for us. She never failed to welcome us, even when we had acted in a way that disappointed her. She shaped our sense of humour. She offered wise words of her own and those passed down from her own mother: what can't be cured must be endured; always be the first to forgive; it's enough to give your backside the earache.

Our mother was beautiful, and created beauty through her work. In the last few years, she became disgusted by her hands, because they had grown thin and arthritic and the veins stood out on them. She said they were horrible. We told her they were beautiful, and we reminded her of all that she had done with those beautiful hands - all the fashionable skirts, dresses, blouses, jackets, suits and hats those hands had made. We also reminded her of all the elegant calligraphy her beautiful hands had written on parchment and paper; all the loving letters they had written; all the fine drawings they had made; all the oil and watercolour pictures they had painted and all the colourful pastel work; all the gorgeous meals they had cooked; all the tasty cakes and fluffy scones that they had baked; all the warm embraces they had offered.

We spent a lot of time in the past two years holding our mother's hand, to help her remember that she was not alone and that she was deeply loved. In our earliest years, we held her hand so that we would feel safe and secure, especially when we woke up in the night and felt frightened. Everything in the universe was in order when we held her hand; nothing could hurt us. Let us hope that something of the comfort she gave us then returned to comfort her during the frightening time when she knew she was losing her memory and then that death was approaching.

Like her mother, our mother was a great offerer of hospitality. Many friends have spoken of the welcome they felt whenever they visited us. Many have spoken of the meals, the cakes, the cups of tea, the food provided at the drop of a hat. One friend said that the first time he visited us, he thought our parents were putting on an act, pretending to be interested in his life but only as a passing social nicety. When, the second time he visited, they asked about all the things he had told them the time before, he knew they were really interested in his life. Another said that our mother gave him the feeling that he was important and interesting and that she cared about him for himself and not just because he was a friend of one of her children.

And then there were the parties, the house filled with guests and laughter and the buzz of happy conversation and tables filled with delicious food; and the leftovers in the morning which we gathered up with enthusiasm, and went and got in bed with our mother and father, accompanied, perhaps, by a piece of Cointreau gateau in one hand and a large pickled onion in the other.

In the last few years, our mother became increasingly fond of rather raucous songs, particularly 'My old man's a dustman', which her wonderful, kind carers at Lauriston care home in St Leonards on Sea used to sing with her to raise her flagging spirits.

Perhaps we can picture our mother now at a great party at which she is reunited with her beloved husband John, the parents that she loved so much, all her departed relatives and friends, and the God in whom she believed, and her mother singing to her again the hymn she sang to her as a lullaby when she was little, 'Jesu, lover of my soul, let me to thy bosom fly.'

Let us, as a tribute to such a mother, allow ourselves to be filled with her spirit, and to learn from all she taught us, and to put into practice all the human values she embodied for us: love, kindness, patience, tolerance, gentleness, forgiveness, hospitality, humour and creativity. Let that be her legacy in us.