We are all here today to celebrate the life of a man. But let us not be mistaken. This was no ordinary man. This was, in fact, an extraordinary man; a brother, a husband, a father and a grandfather, and… well let’s face it… one remarkable person.
For many people Dad was a kind, gentle and infinitely generous soul, always ready to put others before himself and more than willing to help out wherever he could. These are very true and accurate sentiments indeed.
However, now that we are here reflecting on his life, I would invite you all to consider the extent of this man’s particular personality and talents.
He was not only a family man totally dedicated to his wife and children; he was also an amazingly talented, artistic and creative individual, whose enthusiasm for life and art invigorated and inspired those around him.
Dad and Mum managed to raised six of us children… six!... in a time of austerity. Yet all of us were cared for and none of us ever went wanting. However it must be noted that the increasing number of children in the family seemed to correlate directly with the decreasing number of hairs on Dad’s head. By the time Marcia arrived the poor man was practically bald. I do hope it was some hereditary trait that caused this and not the stress of bringing up six adorable but very individual children.
It must be said though that he loved all his children equally and nurtured within them the love and passion for life that has inspired them to become the people they are today.
And while we’re on the subject of passion, let us take a moment to reflect on Dad’s own passions.
His love of classical music, for example. How could we forget waking on weekends to the rousing strains of Tchaikovsky’s 4th Symphony, Stravinsky’s Firebird Suite, Chopin’s Etudes? I like to think he instilled within his children a musical appreciation that we have carried forward in our own lives.
Dad’s wonderful artistic talent even went as far as cake decorating. His festive, culinary embellishments were monumental and sculptural masterworks of icing, marzipan and food-colouring. It felt almost criminal to cut into them.
Dad also loved tennis and would be seen regularly on the courts at his workplace in Harwell. He enjoyed not only playing but also watching the sport too – there would always be that fortnight during the summer when we would all have to fend for ourselves as Dad sat, unmovable and enthralled in front of the television - Wimbledon!
Personally, I will never forget Dad’s ingenious inventiveness. In particular, one Christmas when the electric whisk failed and he improvised by using a power drill, with the whisk head attached to it, to whip the trifle cream. And the result was a success – albeit a rather messy one, for some.
Throughout his life, Dad loved to travel; motor biking to Rome over the alps and cycling to Paris in his youth. Not even a growing family could diminish his sense of adventure, though perhaps necessity put it on a more modest scale. I remember holidays in such far flung places as the Isle of Wight (in a simple flat), Wales (in a caravan), sailing trips, if you could call it sailing, on the Thames. One time we even went as far as (gasp!) Inverness.
Even in his advanced years Dad’s wanderlust could not be quenched. Mountaineering in Scotland, partying in Vegas, cruising round Canada. Only last month he was living it up in Barcelona – an international jet-setter right to the end.
As you can see, Dad was a man who was unafraid to live life to the full. That is exactly what he did and in doing so he inspired his children and his grandchildren to do the same. For this and so much more we are grateful to him; a brother, a husband, a father, a grandfather and, as I’ve mentioned before, an extraordinary man.
I’d like to add just one thing more – time to rest now, Dad; you’ve earned it.
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