A Legacy of Strength: My Grandparents, Romany Roots and the Power of Family

Growing up, my grandad, William Didds Marshall, was a monumental figure in my life. He wasn’t just present—he was a pillar, shaping the way I saw the world. We lived in the heart of the Australian bush, miles from the nearest town, yet I always felt safe, always felt at home. Even when the heat soared to 42°C, there was a sense of calm, a sense of tradition that surrounded us like a protective shield. My granny, Dina, and my mam never faltered in their routines, no matter the conditions. Every Christmas, they would prepare a proper dinner—yes, even in that blistering heat—and my granny would always make sure we had the traditional Romany foods that were passed down through generations.

It was my granny who taught me the art of cooking. I didn't just learn how to make food; I learned how to nourish. How to take simple ingredients and create something that brought people together. I can still see her hands showing me how to make scones, fruit pudding, and even how to boil the traditional cloth puddings. These were not just cooking lessons—they were life lessons. They taught me resilience and resourcefulness, the heart of our Romany roots.

I remember one day, we lost power, and in the days before mobile phones, there was no way to know how long it would last. My dad and grandad were off working, as they often were, and my grandad had left his phone number with the man on the job, just in case. But without electricity, my granny didn’t skip a beat. She gathered us, me and my sister Brooke, and sent us to fetch wood. There in the bush, with nothing but the basics, she built a fire, cooked us a meal, and made herself and my mam a cup of coffee. That moment sticks with me to this day. It was a reminder that, no matter where you are, no matter what you have, survival and strength come from within. It comes from knowing who you are and where you come from. And our Romany roots? They run deep.

My grandad, William, lived in Australia for 24 years, but in 2000, we made our way to England. I was still a young girl then, and though everything around me had changed, my family’s strength remained the same. My father never believed in babysitters—he trusted us, his children, to stay close to the family. My mother, who had me when she was only 17, never left our side. We were her life, and she was ours. When we arrived in England, people would ask who we were, and I would proudly say, "I’m Lee Marshall’s daughter." The looks on their faces said it all—there aren't many of us Marshall's left now. But I wear my name with pride.

Today, I still hold my head high knowing where I come from, knowing the sacrifices my family made, and the strength they’ve passed down. The memories of my childhood, of my grandparents William and Dina, and their resilience, are woven into the very fabric of who I am. And though the world may change, the power of family, of tradition, and of our Romany roots will never fade.

I am proud to carry their name. I am proud to carry their legacy.

Dee Marshall.