I don’t think I have ever known anyone throw themselves so entirely and so enthusiastically into everything they do. Donna acheived so much in everything she entered into. We first met in (I think) 1994 when Donna, Pete, myself and husband Gary joined the Sealed Knot. Donna became a military drummer and was given a drum nearly as big as herself to play. She struggled along with it determinedly until she got her own, which she painted beautifully with the heraldry of Prince Rupert, painstakingly researched. Pete and I discovered a shared interest in playing the fife, and would play along to Donna’s drumming as the regiment marched. Later Sally and Helen joined and also took up the fife, and the seeds of Packington’s Pound were sown. Our early sound was of four screeching fifes or whistles playing in harmony, along with a booming bass drum! Hard on the ears but we thoroughly enjoyed it.
At that time Donna struggled to attend many events, as she was nursing her Dad, who was bedridden after a stroke. For such an outgoing person, being largely confined to the house must have been torture. Her time was divided between restoration work and caring. Dad was looked after like a King, and I remember the efforts she went to to brighten his days – like “Morris Dancing” into the room waving hankies, anything to raise a smile. She had an interest in tropical fish – some were kept upstairs in Dad’s room, more in the living room. In the space which later became part of the studio, she built a rain forest, complete with mist, coloured lighting and some sort of brightly coloured amazon frogs and fish. This was done to a standard that most people would only dream of – she seemed to be able to do anything.
After Donna’s Dad died, she quickly rebuilt her life. Pete and I took her to a session at the Cannon in Newport Pagnell, where she first picked up a Bodhran. No need to tell you what happened next, the bodhran was embraced with the same determination and enthusiasm as everything else and she was soon a virtuoso. Packington’s Pound continued to squeak along, adding a few more instruments as we could afford them. An early attempt at recording (on a minidisc, which was hi tech at the time) took place in the village hall in Old Stratford. The hall was so empty and echoey that Donna had to stand in the toilets to bang the drum, while the rest of us were squeaking away in the main hall. She never forgot the indignity!
She liked her drumming to be noticed – not to sit at the back of the group! One one occasion, playing outdoors at Rockingham Castle, I accused her of attention seeking, because she was jigging about a lot, only to find that she was standing on a bee’s nest and had carried on playing despite the bees buzzing around her legs inside her skirt! (Sorry Donna). Sometimes misfortune seemed to seek her out – like the time we went to the Museum of London for a day out. We were walking along Barbican and I was chatting away to her when I realised she had disappeared, I turned around to see her sprawled on the pavement, where a freak gust of wind had picked up one of those great big stripey barriers that they put round roadworks, and knocked her flying. She saw the funny side of it later – it wouldn’t happen to anyone else.
Re-enactment was fun while it lasted, but eventually we all went our separate ways, but Packington’s Pound carried on, on and off until about 2003. We had lots of fun. I always enjoyed the practices more than the performances, I think for Donna it was the other way round. Apart from the music she was a really good friend, I shall miss her dreadfully.
I think that the year she spent in Cornwall was probably the happiest year she had – she made it very plain that she “wouldn’t be coming back to England”. I just wish I had been in touch a bit more regularly – still, we have some lovely memories. She must have touched hundreds or even thousands of peoples lives.