By Gavin Noble

Copyright northernirelandworld

Born Ann Hughes in 1931 in Killeen, a townland between Armagh and Markethill, she grew up alongside her brothers Sean and Jimmy, and her sister Mary. In 1979 she moved to Portadown when she married Peter Mulligan, beginning a new chapter that would last the rest of her life. She passed away peacefully at the remarkable age of 94, having lived a life full of love, friendship, laughter, and creativity. Annie worked at Christie’s, which suited her perfectly, given her sense of style and her eye for detail. Outside of work, she was endlessly creative. She was a gifted seamstress who made many of her own clothes and even made her niece Goretti’s wedding dress. She knitted constantly — blankets for newborn babies, clothes, little gifts — often for people she had never even met. Her knitting needles moved faster than most of us could follow, and people used to say she could knit faster than she could talk — and that’s saying something. Although Annie had no children of her own, she was more than just an aunt. To her niece Goretti, she was a second mother — a source of love, support, and advice. She also formed a lifelong friendship with Pauline, who was so kind to Annie and was by her side until the very end. And to many others, Annie was like family — extending her warmth and kindness well beyond her own household. Those who knew Annie will remember a woman full of life and character. She was chatty and quick-witted, endlessly generous, and always kind. She had a flair for elegance and was rarely seen without a scarf or a piece of jewellery. Earrings and necklaces were part of her signature look — she never left home without them. Annie was stylish and took real pride in presenting herself with grace and care. She also had her little habits that made her uniquely Annie. She loved watching her soaps — Coronation Street and Emmerdale were sacred times. If you phoned her during an episode, you wouldn’t get an answer. But if you happened to be watching TV with her, you’d get an experience like no other: Annie providing her own live commentary, weaving in six months of backstory, theories about what might happen next, and plenty of opinion about who was right and who was wrong. Annie was also devoted to her Irish News. She read it faithfully every day from front to back. She could remember articles from weeks ago, retelling them with more detail than the paper itself contained. She would even update us on business and developments in the construction industry. Annie was also a renowned baker. Her apple tarts, scones and rice pudding with stewed apples, were always well received. Her apple tart, in particular, became a legend in its own right — no committee meeting at the Portadown Credit Union was complete without one. Another great love of Annie’s was dancing. Set dancing brought her joy, and she was known for pulling visitors onto the kitchen floor to dance, whether they wanted to or not. Her life was not only about home and hobbies — she was deeply woven into the community. She supported Dromantine by selling Mass cards, helping with the committee, and contributing to the annual fete. She was a familiar face at the Over 50’s Club, where she enjoyed friendship, lunches, day trips, and of course, plenty of dancing. Annie’s life was full of memorable stories. One that always makes people smile, was the day that Peter fell off a ladder while doing some work around the house. Thankfully, he wasn’t badly hurt, but the doctor was called, just in case. However, in true Annie fashion, the real drama wasn’t Peter’s fall. Annie had worked herself up into such a state with worry that by the time the doctor arrived, it was Annie — not Peter — who needed to be looked after. That was Annie: excitable, loving, and wearing her emotions on her sleeve. Another story speaks to her kindness. When Judy and Janalyn moved to Charles Street, strangers in a new country, Annie immediately welcomed them. Offering guidance, friendship, trips into Portadown, and the warmth of her table. Annie made them feel at home, so much so that they simply called her “Mummy”. That was Annie — her instinct was always to make people feel cared for, as if they belonged. Family was always at the centre of Annie’s world. She loved telling stories about who got married, who had babies, and sadly, who had passed away. She could recite family history in detail, and she always wanted to hear updates about her many great-grand niece and nephews. In later years, one of her joys was scrolling through the photos on our phones, delighting in how the children had grown. Annie also passed on lessons — some practical, some profound. She taught my sister never to buy pinstripe clothes if the stripes didn’t meet at the seams, because it showed poor workmanship. She taught my brother that the most important step in making tea was warming the pot first. And she passed her skills in baking, sewing, and knitting on to Goretti. Above all, Annie showed us how to live with kindness, generosity, and style. She reminded us that family bonds run deep, and that even in small gestures — a knitted blanket, a warm apple tart, a kind word — we can make others feel loved. A small name card was found in her room that captured her essence beautifully. It read: “Ann, from the Hebrew meaning graceful. She is industrious, practical, and can turn her hand to anything. A lady of many talents.” That was Annie. Graceful. Industrious. A lady of many talents. But more, a lady of love, of friendship, and of joy.