23rd October 2026

A letter left in a book remembering Bridget Hammond, cherished memories 

 

There are people who pass through our lives and leave little more than a fading memory. And there are others whose influence becomes part of the very fabric of who we are. Bridget Hammond was one of those people. 

 

Bridget Hammond was my English teacher, a mentor, and, in many respects, the architect of my boyhood dreams. She gave me perhaps the greatest gift one human being can bestow upon another. 

 

Bridget Hammond gave me my imagination.

 

More importantly, she taught me how to use it. 

 

To think independently, to stand apart from the crowd, to resist the temptation merely to follow others, and to have the courage to commit my own thoughts to paper. She taught me that writing need not always be constrained by rules, technical precision or the expectations of others. 

 

That words could have character, emotion, individuality and, above all, freedom. 

 

We sat together, Bridget and I, and we battled hard. I suspect I tested her patience on more occasions than either of us would care to remember. She would sometimes address me, in exasperation, as “Eric, or Little by Little!” I was always a bit slow, but got there. 

 

But she never gave up on me. Indeed, it was Bridget who made that first telephone call to The Walsall Observer and `Express & Star, opening a door into journalism and giving a young man the opportunity to discover what he might become. 

 

I have never forgotten that. In October 2026, I began searching for a copy of Frederic W. Farrar's “Eric, or Little by Little”, the book whose title Bridget had so often used when addressing me. I found a copy in a second hand book shop printed in September 1898. Inside was a school prize inscription from a Sunday School Union prize giving in Ipswich. Third place, "Boys Obstacle Race'

​

Bridget was a "Suffolk Girl" from Diss ironically just 25 miles away from Ipswich, and a town she frequented 

 

On the cover is a cricketer, a wonderful reminder of another great passion of my youth. 

 

And within its pages I discovered a chapter entitled “The Pigeons,” a title that carried its own remarkable personal significance.

 

Chasing wood pigeons from my apple tree is a yearly event and one of frustration

​

One coincidence followed another, and I found myself holding something that connected the man I had become with the boy I had once been. I was moved to tears.

 

During recent years, I have experienced the loss of three remarkable ladies, each of whom I loved dearly, and each of whom helped shape the person I am today. 

 

Their absence has troubled me deeply. But I have come to understand that those we love do not disappear entirely from our lives. Something of them remains in our character, our memories, our choices and the things we create. 

 

Bridget's gift remains with me every time I sit down to write. 

 

For much of my professional life, I have worked as a technical author, where precision, accuracy and discipline are essential. Yet somewhere beneath that technical exterior remains the imaginative schoolboy she encouraged to think for himself. And perhaps that is her greatest legacy. 

 

Somewhere in a Field of Remembrance in Diss, Suffolk, rests the lady who gave me the courage to dream, and then helped me take the first steps towards making those dreams a reality. 

 

She was a mentor, my inspiration, and affectionately, in my own private recollections, my Mrs Robinson. 

 

I wish I could sit with her once more, tell her what became of that troublesome schoolboy, and thank her for everything she gave him. But perhaps this little book, and this letter I leave within it, will have to serve instead. It will remain in my bookcase, treasured not for its age or monetary worth, but for the extraordinary memories it has brought back to me. 

 

And should my children or grandchildren one day read this letter, I hope they will understand why an old book meant so much to their father and grandfather. Because behind its pages stands the memory of a remarkable woman who helped a boy find his imagination, his independence and his voice. 

 

“This one is for you, Bridget.” Xxxx

 

With affection, admiration and everlasting gratitude. 

Eric J. Cooper

23 October 2026

​

"Thank's Miss !"