We have heard today beautiful tributes to grandad and about who he was as a husband and a dad, but for nine of us at least he was a grandad, I wanted to take a few minutes to talk about who what kind of a Grandad he was to me.

And whilst I don’t stand here speaking on behalf of my brothers and cousins, I hope that they recognise the man I am talking about in these words and it’s a fitting tribute to the grandad he was.

Many people met and knew my grandad over the years, and each one of them will have witnessed his warmth, his humour and his kindness.

My story starts from my earliest memories of grandad, a busy family and working man, tolerant of grandchildren filling his space on return from work, when I imagine some peace and quiet is all he might have wanted. But never once did he make us feel unwelcome, he was always pleased to see us something that never changed even right up until the end.

I loved to hear grandad talk about his time in national service, a requirement which now seems alien to our generations to serve the country, I liked his stories about the petrol run and thanking the septic engineers with smuggled coke-a-cola.
My understanding of planes is limited, and my understanding of radio and radar even less so, but that didn’t stop him talking to us enthusiastically as if we were there with him and he was re living it.

The same was true when he showed us pictures of him and his friends riding trials bikes back in the 50s.

I recall his white van from an early age, and if we didn’t know better it would be the same one, bit like triggers broom, nothing to go wrong on them you see, said my grandad, an inventor – the very same inventor who wouldn’t have electric windows and air conditioning in case they went wrong.

We often travelled in that van from bury to grandma’s house, a journey of about 4 miles with one in the front and two in the back. Grandad with cigarette in his hand and us bracing ourselves for roundabouts and the A14 crossing before the flyover was installed, wondering if we would get caught, and of course at that time not knowing the illegality of his actions, but they were as we say these days “different times”.

Grandads mentality of fixing not replacement, is generally missing from this generation and this modern world, but it is one his lasting legacies with me, “if it was made in the first place, it must be repairable” was one of his mantras when inevitably we would bring him something broken needing repair.

I recall him attending concerts, Christmas services, medal awards at the bury cathedral choir, always in the background, taking photos and always saying how much he had enjoyed it. The relevance and significance of his dedication was probably lost on me then, but now provide a wonderful backdrop of reflection of those years.

one year for Christmas he made my brothers and I wooden boxes, monogrammed with our initials, they were to him a small something he could make us for Christmas, not thinking they would mean much, he was touched to discover 20 years later, we all still owned them, and they are one of our most treasured possessions.

Later when my interests moved to Motorcycles, he helped repair an old bike I had been given, the fix was successful and the bike ran and thus my love of motorcycles was cemented – I don’t think ever really know how grateful I was for this.

Later his help would extend to bike alarms, wiring for sheds and queries on balancing carbs and the like. He always showed appreciation for the modern bikes I would turn up on even if they weren’t “his thing”

When I got my first 50cc bike, we went down to the tank track, and he had a go on it, he got off saying what fun memories it brought back, and how it had as much power as a 500cc back in the 50s, I tried insuring him on it but they wouldn’t cover someone over 70 – funny as he never appeared older than 21 to me.

I have many fond memories of grandad, amongst many the following stick with me the most;

The day he came and played cricket in our garden in york road after quitting smoking

Filling up digital camera cards and storing them and then replacing the card, instead of backing up to the computer

Embassy Red Cigarettes

Bread with his butter

His generational racism, not that I condoned it and it was usually followed up with” you cant say that these days Grandad,” with a short retort of “why not” and then pursued a brief update on things that you shouldn’t say “these days”

Salt with his salt, this was at least his only complaint to me about the hospital, the lack of salt in his meals.

Helping him into the link trainer so he could demonstrate what it was and did.

He is the only person in the world who I have ever witnessed setting out birthday candles on a cake with a protractor, why you might ask? Because he could and if he didn’t it wouldn’t right.

I tried to teach him how to use auto cad back in 2003

A volt and ammeter in his van which moved from van to van

He and grandma helping us move in to our house back in 2009

He was an honest and loving man, telling me truths about how hard marriage can be, but the love he evidently had for grandma stood as an example to what a loving and long serving marriage could look like.
He even went as far as to continually encourage a doctor’s visit after the arrival of our little Jack to assure we weren’t blessed with any more.

I recall him willingly collecting Catherine from Ely station back in 2003 as she was coming to visit me as a surprise and her final train was cancelled and Catherine saying he was nothing but a perfect gentleman, and how lucky I was to have such a lovely grandad, she could not have been more right.

The final time I spoke to Grandad, I was lucky enough to talk to him for a few minutes, when he declared after some time “we go back a while don’t we” – To me this was a loving expression of the times and things we had done together over the years.  Something old friends would say to each other as this discussed the good ol days.

It’s hard now to remember everything we did together or even to measure the impact he had on my life, and those around me.

On reflection, with my own father taking being primary, he was probably the second most influential man I have met in my life and that is a void that can never be filled or replaced.

He was a rock, always there, unchanging and reliable, even denying the existence of his Parkinson’s up till the near end in a bid to try and convince his body to pack it in and behave, but it didn’t work.

There are those things I will regret;

Not taking him to that museum I said I would

Not dropping in every time, I passed the junction on the A14

Not spending more time listening to everything he had to say.

But I know he didn’t mind, he understood how busy life could be and I hope he cherished the times we spent together as much as I did.

He will be missed, bitterly missed, but I will be forever grateful that I knew him, got to spend quality time with him, and right up to the end got to talk to him and tell him what a wonderful man he was and to thank him for everything he did for me and my family.

He loved his great grandchildren very much, and made the effort to see them both as soon as possible after they were born even when his health was declining, and it was hard work.

The choice to call our Jack after Grandad was not coincidental with the name being popular in 2014 it was to us a fitting legacy to the man we knew as a Husband or a Dad or a Granddad or Great Grandad.

Our Jack will grow up knowing who he is named after and why, the impact he had on our lives and the legacy that the name carries and it’s a name I’m sure he will wear with pride.

So thank you grandad, thanks for everything and we’re so sad you had to go……… but go knowing you were loved so very very much by all.

RIP Grandad 1933-2018