Adieu, Dad

His struggle and frustration with his deteriorating health is over. My Dad George, who many people knew as Stan, died in the Royal Surrey County Hospital just as the sun was rising over Guildford cathedral on 25th October. Thankfully, I was with him. He simply faded away in in his sleep, just as he wanted.

Given the pleasure he got from the internet after he had a PC for his 80th birthday eight years ago, it seems appropriate that I post these words from his brother John on these pages. I'm sure, too, Dad would have loved the idea that his friends and family in far-flung places (or closer to home) could add to this post with their own memories. John's recovering from an operation so couldn't be at the funeral so his eulogy was read by Jill, his wife.

We also read the final part of 'Hiawatha's Departure' as a reminder of Dad's love of words and the fun he and I had reading the 'Song of Hiawatha' alound when I was a child. I had to include 'Do not go gentle into that good night'; I don't think he knew this poem but it helped me understand his anger and frustration with what life had become for him.

BROTHER JOHN’S EULOGY TO GEORGE

"First let me say what a great sadness it is that I cannot be here myself to say farewell to my brother.

It is remarkable that we spent so much time apart. At age 14 he fell in love with Iris and became practically a part of the Rattray household, which I must say was jollier than ours and suited the outgoing part of George’s nature.

The war, of course, separated our family as it did thousands of others.

In 1938 the threat of fascism was in the air and at age 18 George joined the 9^th Battalion of the Middlesex regiment of the Territorial Army. He was embodied into the regular forces before the war began.

In the TA his officer qualities were noted and he was commissioned. After serving some time with Searchlight batteries of the Royal Artillery in this country, he was posted to join the Kings’ African Rifles in Kenya. He served with them through the operations in Burma and then returned to Kenya. Another part of the separation caused by the war, I joined the Royal Air Force in 1942 so we never met up during the war at all.

He was later awarded a Territorial decoration for long service in the ‘Terries’.

When hostilities ceased George was demobbed in Kenya and at the young age of 25 was given the job of running a huge estate in Kenya. He loved the job and the African people.

Having married early in the war, Iris joined George in Kenya and stayed with him until the Mau Mau atrocities so terrified her that they returned to the UK. George brought back with him his love of the African people and a facility with Ki-Swahili, with which later he entertained Sarah and me.

He then worked for the Income Tax department until the Broads called him where he and Iris joined Iris’s sister and her husband – Ollie and Vic. It was typical of George, that when his request to the Income Tax Department for a transfer to Norfolk was refused, he just went anyway and soon joined the Norfolk County Council’s local Education Administration Department where he stayed until retirement.

He, Iris and Sarah became an important part of the Catfield community and Sarah still has friends from that time. He was Parish Councillor and a very active member of the local British legion, regularly bearing the legion’s standard at local and regional events and being awarded a gold badge for his work. In 1971 he and Iris were invited to a garden party at Buckingham Palace to celebrate the Legion’s golden jubilee year. George also became a mason. He really appreciated the fellowship and good works of the masons and in time he became Master of his Lodge. He was dedicated to the practical welfare of members of both groups and other local people in need, as was Iris.

It was here that Margaret and I, and later Jill , my second wife and I, were asked to stay and invited to Masonic dinners where we saw George at his most popular and outgoing self.

After Iris died George remarried and moved to a beautiful part of Scotland – which was his new wife’s birthplace. He had always enjoyed travelling – indeed he and Iris had earlier been pioneers of motorcycle combination travel and went to Spain with two friends.

In Scotland he saw my elder son Christopher regularly and a strong relationship developed. It is Christopher’s great regret that he is unable to be here today.

After his second wife died George came to Farnham to be near Sarah and lived in a retirement home until his recent illness. It was here that he met Florence who was a very good and supportive friend throughout. Jill and I visited them both several times and enjoyed their company. George came to life at family gatherings and was very popular with the younger members.

Even with the separations through our lives there was a strong bond of brotherhood between us - in fact he was ‘bruv’ and I was ‘uverbruv’ to George.

In fact as I have got older I have realised how much like him I am – in speech and mannerisms. Jill often says – gosh that was George!

George was a very loving father to a very loving daughter. Sarah’s devotion to him during the frustrating time when he was tied to his flat at the end of an oxygen line was a tribute to their mutual love. I must here mention how supportive Jonathan, Sarah’s partner, has been throughout. It was good to know that George, after a brief showing of his old self in hospital, died peacefully with Sarah by his side.

Sadly he always seemed to underestimate his achievements which were remarkable.

Throughout, George was always George. He was straight and open; you knew where you stood with him; and you always knew that he cared for you."

It’s been a long time…..

It’s been, as the song (almost) goes, a long time since I’ve done any blog writing, not because there’s been nothing going on (if only!) or because I’ve been too busy. To be honest I’ve struggled to know how to set down on these electronic pages what’s been going on since the beginning of the year.

But there are so many happy things to write about that I must get over this hurdle, so here goes……..

A week after my Dad had a bout of pneumonia which put him in hospital for a few days in January, Jonathan’s Mum, Pat (pictured here with Circé last Autumn), who’s a very fit 74, was knocked over as she was crossing the road on the way home from a shopping trip. The car which hit her was driven by a 93-year-old who subsequently failed the police eyesight test. She had multiple and very severe injuries, including two broken legs, 10 broken ribs, a cracked vertebra and severe internal injuries. A nasty knock on her head was also very worrying. She was airlifted to the Royal London hospital (did you see ‘Casualty 1907?) where, frankly, the trauma team saved her life.

Three and a half months later, she’s still in hospital, thankfully a bit closer to their home in Farnham than the Royal London, and is making good progress. Nevertheless it’s a long haul and we’re still not sure when she’ll be home or when she’ll be walking again. Perhaps the most upsetting thing is that she’d worked really hard to get fit and mobile after her second hip replacement last June and was just starting to enjoy swimming, gardening and country walks again when she was knocked down; it wasn’t just a huge physical knock she suffered.

Needless to say this has had unimaginable ramifications for the whole family. Luckily we’ve found a fantastic live-in helper for Jonathan’s Dad, Dennis, while Pat’s in hospital as managing at home alone for such a long period of time would have been very hard for him. Jonathan’s sister, Alison, who lives in London, has inevitably shouldered much of the responsibility for overseeing Pat’s care and making sure Dennis is OK. Jonathan has spent quite a bit of time in away from home since the beginning of February but we’ve been apart more than we would have been if the UK authorities didn’t take such stringent precautions against rabies. This will be easier at the beginning of June, six months after Circe’s rabies jab, when she’ll be able to visit the UK for the first time.

As if this wasn’t enough, my Dad, who’s been increasingly frustrated by his state of health for several months now, was taken ill while on holiday with us in France. Although spending a couple of weeks in hospital is not the way anyone would choose to spend the second half of their holiday he learnt quite a few French words and I think he chatted up the nurses a bit, too. Since he came out of the French hospital I’ve spent a bit of time helping him settle back into life at his home and to be with him for his most recent hospital appointment.

So, that’s where we are. Whichever devil prevented me from writing about all the other things which have been going on is now expunged. Now I can tell you about the good things: planning the vegetable plot, enjoying Circé growing up, finalising the plans for the house and barns and last but not least the arrival of Circé’s first doggy house guest later today.