From war-time wireless operator in the WAAF to Freeman of York, Irene Douglass has led a fascinating life. MAXINE GORDON meets a remarkable octogenarian.

IRENE Douglass is disarmingly modest about the honour that is about to be bestowed on her. On February 22, she will be presented before the Lord Mayor of York in the Mansion House and become a Freeman of the city.

She has inherited this ancient right through birth – her great, grandfather, Thomas Milburn, was a currier, who worked in the leather trade and was a Freeman of York.

“I feel a bit humble,” says Irene, who lives in Fulford and will be 89 in April. “I did nothing. I am only claiming the honour because of my ancestors, but it is a tradition I am happy to keep up.”

Irene uncovered her right to freemanship while researching her family tree with her nephew, Mike Wash, of Strensall. It was rather timely because claims can only go back three generations before dying out.

To celebrate the occasion, at least 20 members of Irene’s family will be gathering in York for the ceremony, with some travelling from Ireland, Spain and Italy.

During the day, the party will call at York Minster, where two pieces by Irene’s great, great uncle, the celebrated gothic sculptor George Walker Milburn, are on display – life size statues of Edwin, King of Northumbria and King Edward VII. More famously, George sculpted the statue of city artist William Etty, now outside York Art Gallery.

Today, “freeman” is largely an honorary title, although in centuries past it carried certain perks such as allowing holders to trade in York – as well as free access to the common strays.

Mike Wash says: “It also gives you the right to drive your cattle over Lendal Bridge.” Needless to say, Irene doesn’t have any cattle – not even a cat.

Freeman must also, adds Mike, be prepared to defend the city against attack.

“I’ve already done that in the war,” says Irene, smartly dressed in a bright red cardi, and perching forward in her chair, as if about to begin a story.

“I was a wireless operator in the war. I had been working in the office at Rowntree’s and was bored to tears, so I decided to volunteer.”

Originally, Irene fancied learning to drive and hoped to end up in the transport section, but at 5ft 1ins, she was one inch too short, and ended up as a wireless operator.

In January 1942, she was sent to Bridgnorth in Shropshire to begin physical training. She was 20 and the furthest afield she’d been was Scarborough, so it was quite an adventure.

Irene’s memories are hardly rose-tinted, though. “We learned to march and did obstacle courses, it was hard work.” Rough blankets, blisters and homesickness were the order of the day. However, Irene quickly made friends, helped along by the supply of Rowntree’s sweets she took with her.

While away, news from home told her about a bombing raid on York that hit her former school, killing pupils and a teacher.

During the war, she spent time at Topcliffe, near Thirsk, Doncaster and Uxbridge, near London. One of her most nerve-wracking times was while in Uxbridge, where they had to contend with Doodlebugs, Hitler’s unmanned bombs aimed at the capital.

Irene wrote an account of her war years, now held in the Imperial War Museum. “As long as you could hear the Doodlebugs, you were okay, but the moment when the engine stopped, that was when the bomb dropped,” writes Irene.

“I remember being on night duty once and sitting on the bench next to the WT set, we heard the Doodlebug and then the silence, but before I could get under the bench for cover I was unceremoniously dumped on the floor. Fortunately the bomb dropped far enough away for us to escape too much damage.”

Irene longed for a posting abroad and her wish came true – in June 1945, one month after VE Day, she was posted to Paris. Her job was to monitor the air traffic between Britain and the continent, and her office was the George V hotel, one of the most prestigious in Paris, just off the Champs Elysées.

What struck Irene most about Paris were the bright lights. “It was absolute heaven,” she says, smiling at the recollection. “We drove down the Champs Elysées in an open truck and all the lights were on.”

What a change from blackout Britain.

On her return to York, Irene married Noel Douglass, a York policeman, and had two children, David and Judith.

Noel died nine years ago. Today, Irene keeps herself busy gardening, doing aqua aerobics and studying York history at the University of the Third Age. She has also taken up Tai Chi.

Her daughter lives in Rome – and despite invitations to move to Italy, Irene refuses to budge from York.

She says: “I would not live anywhere else. York is a beautiful city and my heart belongs here.”

Spoken like a true Freeman.

• Could you become a Freeman of York? Find out more at york.gov.uk/council/lordmayor/freemanofthecityofyork/