Elizabeth’s memories

Dad was born in Croft rd Swindon on December 20th 1927 he attended the Lethbridge Rd infants school, then the Common Wheal grammer school in Swindon Old Town where he became head boy. He had two brothers, David and John and a sister Daphne.

He was a clever child and this was quickly noticed. His parents Ray and Vera moved from Swindon to Liddington Manor Farm House in the small village of Liddington up on the Wiltshire Downs.  Dad rode his bicycle into school from there.

His father was a lloyds bank branch manager and a property landlord in Swindon. From age 9 Dad was given the job of collecting the rents. In later life he enjoyed recounting his memories of some of the tenants and how they would try to wriggle out of paying up when he came round. He was not fooled!

He recalled learning to shoot during the war years and one of his favourite stories was about getting seven rabbits from one shot. He explained that ammunition was scarce so he had worked out how to make the most of the few cartridges they had. He also remembered taking his rabbits into town to swap for fish at the fish mongers. He was allowed to jump the queue because he discovered that the fish monger liked rabbit. His business acumen showed at an early age! 

Dad had an orderly mind from childhood, which was evidenced by the way he carefully labelled his pictures in pencil on the back so it would be clear who they belonged to, when soldiers were billeted at Liddington Manor farm, during the war. It seems he was not sure if these strangers were to be fully trusted. 

His engineering skills began at an early age. He built a go-cart for his siblings and friends to ride on. In his teens he taught himself to drive. (He never did have to take a driving test) he adapted an old car so that it had a heating system that ran off the engine heat so that it didn’t freeze up in the winter, before these became standard.

He always had a project on the go. I recall him designing and building the ‘whizzer car’ . A somewhat wild ride, something akin a ski lift, that ran down hill in the dell part of the garden at Stanhill cottage. The only problem was the dismount, which if badly timed, landed the children in a nettle bed!

Dad applied his engineering mind to his project to build the extension to Southfields House in Woldingham. He designed it, and carved out the chalk hillside with the help of a dumper truck and a jcb digger!  He enjoyed this and did much of the work himself. It took sometime. Eventually he purchased the dumper truck which he later used to help with the re-surfacing work on Southfields road. (another project that he instigated). Now, Dad did some work in the USSR during the period of the ‘cold war’. I recall him describing the military May day parade in Moscow and how terrifying he had found it. Maybe it was this that prompted him to design an additional bit of the extension in the form of a nuclear bunker. Thankfully it didn’t need to be built, as it would not have been ready in time! none the less, Dad reinforced the extension walls with steel and concrete just in case.

His father Ray, was a keen gardener and Dad as the eldest son helped out. They had a large vegetable plot, the proceeds of which were relied upon to feed the whole family. This led to a life long love of vegetable gardening and Dad had large vegetable plots in both his own family homes of Stanhill Cottage in Charlwood and Southfields House in Woldingham. He enjoyed showing his biggest leeks or his largest yellow tomatoes at the Woldingham Horticultural show. He even put his artistic skills to good use in flower arranging for the event, but I don’t recall if he won a prize!

He loved machines. He had a rotavator and a chipper. I (his daughter Elizabeth) have fond memories of helping him feed this chomping machine with sticks and branches from his pruning in the garden and his chain sawing in the wood. I have inherited it and forty years on, it reminds me of him every time I use it. 

Another favourite was his sit on mower. Southfields House garden lawns were steeply sloped and I recall querying Dad about this. He explained patiently that there was a correct angle to make a turn in such a way as to prevent tipping over. Later he was observed giving all four grandchildren a ride around the garden in the trailer,  each turn executed with precision!

In his youth, Dad had been quite sporty. He played for his college cricket team and enjoyed fishing. In the early eighties he purchased a timeshare holiday week at the Langdale Country Club in the Lake District. Together with Mum and the family and friends they invited to share the holidays over the years , he spent many hours scaling the peaks and exploring the fells of this most beautiful and wild part of Britain. He had strong legs and I recall being surprised on a windy day out at Camber sands in Kent, when the grandchildren’s six foot blow up shark took off along the beach at break neck speed. Dad sped off in pursuit, catching up with it after a bracing hundred meter sprint, he returned it much to the joy of the little ones.

His determination, showed in his lake district climbing and more recently, in his refusal to be beaten by the stairs up to the apartment. Even when so debilitated by cancer, he put gargantuan effort into climbing these, politely refusing to use the stair lift. 

Dad was a serious minded man. He could concentrate for eight hours in one stretch without a break, such was his capacity to become absorbed, motivated by the desire to find a workable, practical solution, whether in his work or his home life. He applied the same diligence to his health in his later years and battled the cancer with a scientific and at times, almost detached interest. 

He told me once long ago, that there were no such thing as rights, just duties and responsibilities. I do not entirely agree, but looking back, I can see that he showed his faithful love for his family, from an early age, in the way he assumed responsibility. His deep love and devotion for Mum, shone through as he fought to stay alive to continue to care for her. 

He was much loved and respected and will be much missed.