Dad

My Dad, Brian Childs

Four years ago my Dad died. He died of a heart attack. We decided that his funeral would be a chance to remind his family and friends of the person he was. We decided I would speak about him and Gill and Jo would stand with me as I spoke. The music that was played was Elgar's Nimrod - a reference to Dad's RAF days. Bizarrely it was one of the peak experiences of my life where I understood the effect of a life lived well and with love on those around you. One of the our friends had brought with her a new boyfriend who none of us had met before. He told me "I never met your Dad, but I wish I had - he sounds like a great guy." He was.

This is the eulogy that I gave.

As those of you who ever heard Dad expressing his thoughts about the parking outside the Salvation Army Citadel would know, he was not a religious man and so it seemed inappropriate for us to remember him with a religious ceremony. What I’d like to do is tell you a bit about Dad and what he meant to us, his family and his friends.

Dad inherited his eccentricities and vaguely Eeyore like tendencies from his father, Les, and gained his New Man skills from his mother, Jessie. It was her intention that he would be able to care for himself without needing someone else to do it for him. These skills came in useful in later years when, as a young father, occasionally looking after his children on his own he was able to produce such culinary masterpieces as Blue Porridge and Grey Soup.

Dad was 5 when his sister Jennifer was born and he immediately saw it as his responsibility to take care of her. Jennifer particularly remembers a time when as an 11 year old with great sporting aspirations she was taking part in a 100 yard race at an athletic meeting at Pitreavie. Jen fell on the cinder track only feet from the start. Dad immediately jumped over the barrier and strode of to where Jen lay, picked her up and ignoring the jibes and shouts from the crowd, carried her off the track. To this day Jen can remember the feeling of mixed humiliation and gratefulness that her big brother had rescued her.

He wasn’t all sweetness and light though. In the stories he told us about “when I was a little girl” we were always delighted to hear how naughty he had been. Stories of him and his gang of mates trying to set fire to the scout hut by shooting arrows wrapped with cloths soaked in petrol at the building. Only the fact that they had soaked the rags the night before and the petrol had evaporated saved Dad from adding to his criminal record gained when he was caught breaking street lamps with his catapult.

The curiosity he showed as a child about the way things work was something that he carried through to adulthood. In the garage at home there is still a watch he took to bits as a 9 year old. He just hadn’t got around to putting it back together again. Mind you that’s not the only thing in the garage. It was a moment of great amazement to the family and the neighbours when he recently managed to clear enough space in the garage to actually get a car in it too.

Mum and Dad's Wedding

When Mum and Dad met it was the beginning of a life long love affair that never diminished in its intensity or passion. Dad was always romantic but not always conventional. One evening a policeman spotted a car parked in a quiet lane, he tapped on the heavily steamed up window and when it was rolled down asked, in a knowing way, “What’s going on here then?” He probably wasn’t expecting the answer to be that Dad was steaming up the windows in order to draw circuit diagrams for Mum.

Dad is on the end at the right

Dad had chosen to sign on to stay in the RAF once his national service was done and so their courtship and early marriage was interspersed with fairly long periods apart and indeed Dad was away from home when I was born. He hot footed it back from the Outer Hebrides to Dunfermline and rushed to see his new baby. He wasn’t someone who had a lot of contact with babies and so was not quite sure that the scrunched up hairy, chimp like thing (and I’m quoting here…) he was presented with was normal, so it seemed only logical to ask the nurses if he could see another one. Mum was a bit miffed and the nurses were hysterical.

His fathering skills improved but were always a little quirky. Many fathers carry their offspring on their shoulders – but how many of them sprinkle peanuts in their hair to keep the kid amused?

Me and Dad

Mum and Dad enjoyed parenthood so much that they decided to do it again and three years later Gillian was born. Dad was still away a lot and I remember the huge excitement that there was every time he came home. Gill and I would frisk him for presents, the dog would pee on his foot and then we’d all get heaved off to bed early for some reason. Mum would occasionally get some time off for good behaviour and leave us in Dad’s capable hands. He’d start fairly well and keep us entertained, I remember a whole gang of us kids being lined up with pots and pan lids, milk bottles half filled with water, the fire guard and poker and so on to form an impromptu band of which he was the conductor. He recorded the efforts so that we could play them back. It was great fun. He was also a great storyteller. We would plague him to tell us stories about when he was a little girl, or to make one up. His made up ones always began with “Once upon a time, a long, long time ago, when dinosaurs roamed the earth, before television was invented and when your Mummy was just a little girls there lived a handsome prince called Brian…”
Mum realised that there was no point in threatening us kids with “Wait till your Father gets home!” Dad was a soft touch, which we all figured out pretty early on. Unfortunately for us, he realised it too and would always reply “Ask your mother” when anything remotely contentious was being negotiated.
Joanne arrived 7 years after Gillian and shortly before we moved to Germany. Her earliest memory is of Dad rescuing her by breaking down the door of the toilet she had locked herself in when she was 3. He was our hero and we all wanted to marry him at some point in our childhood.

Dad, Me, Jo and Gill

He was every bit as wonderful a Granddad as he was Dad. He was the first person to hold Stephanie and he was the man in her life. Steph would like me to tell you a story that made the whole family, except Dad, laugh – he just shuddered every time he thought of it. One day when she was about 4 she was sitting at he table with a packed of mini cheddars which she had emptied out, put into a line and was counting. Jason, the dog, was watching her very carefully. Dad came in and pinched one of the biscuits, as he was about to put it in his mouth he said to her “This feels a bit damp – have you had it in your mouth?” “No” she replied. He stuck it in his mouth and she added “but Jason has.” Dad was horrified and spent the rest of the day cleaning his teeth and wiping his tongue.
When Jo married Steve and they began a family of their own he had even more opportunity to be a doting Granddad with Holly, Hannah and Ellie. I asked the girls what they would remember best about Granddad and they remember him teaching them to swim and giving the best cuddles when you were poorly.

Dad and Holly

Dad with brand new Ellie

We have had great fun as a family and Dad was the instigator of much of it. He never lost his curiosity and would often become completely enthused with something. These enthusiasms would often burn themselves out and the evidence would be added to the stuff in the garage. Ever since he was a child he has had an interest in discovering a means for perpetual motion, this had never gone away and may be the reason for us having enough magnets in the garage to be in danger of attracting every other bit of metal in Fife.
He was convinced he could make his fortune on the stock market if he could just figure out a pattern to the forecasting. Unfortunately this was another project he never quite finished!
He was great at DIY. Mum and Dad have a lovely conservatory, Kitchen and bathroom which they put in and which are all nearly finished.
He did have his gloomy turns which we all took the Mickey out of by calling him a MOG. This stood for Moaning Old Git – and believe me, in full flight he could give Victor Meldrew a good run for his money.
I think what we will all remember though is Dad’s friendliness, kindness, generosity of spirit, humour, pride in his family and the love he never failed to show for all of us.

Mum and Dad went on a cruise together in June. It was the first time since their Honeymoon that they had holidayed alone and they had the most marvellous time. Being together for that time had reinforced what they have always known, that they are best friends as well as lovers, who will never tire of each other’s company. Dad came back full of enthusiasm for the holiday and the week before he died we had collected a stack of brochures for them to choose their next one.

Dad died very suddenly and horribly unexpectedly, but he died in the arms of the woman he has loved with all of his heart for the past 45 years with her words of love in his ear. As we have never doubted how much he loved us he can never have doubted how much he was loved in return.