His funeral was held at St Peter’s Church, Newchurch, Rossendale in Lancashire on Monday 8th August. He was buried in a plot looking out towards the hills at Rawtenstall cemetery. His funeral was attended by family, by friends and by work mates.
The two pictures show Dad with his 6 children and with most of his grand children. It was taken at Christmas 2007, before his illness had taken hold.
It would be fair to say that Dad was unconventional. He “marched to the beat of a different drum” as Thoreau put it. Just because other people did something did not make it right. As kids we sometimes found this frustrating; none of our friends had to submit an in-depth report on the reasons why watching a TV programme would make us a better person. Or had to spend holidays doing projects. It seemed crazy at the time but we can see the logic of it now!
Not surprisingly, Dad carved out an unconventional career for himself. He was brought up in West Lancashire on a small-holding where money was tight. He went to the local Grammar and ended up reading Audiology at Salford University. He set up a business with his life-long friend Bill Tempest. Together they investigated noise related deafness. This often involved going to court to pursue compensation for workers who had lost their hearing through their work. Dad also got to go to some pretty cool places. Take-your-kid-to-work saw Dominic go and see Queen at Elland Road and both of us at a Rally in the middle of the night in Lancaster.
Dad held strong opinions that he liked to share with us all. He and Mum campaigned for social housing and they involved themselves with CAFOD. He was heavily involved with the Catholic Church and never ceased to question its practices. He and Mum joined the Marriage Encounter movement and spent many a weekend helping couples build their relationships.
He was an explorer, who loved his dogs: Tara and Wolfie. They were his constant companions and many a time we would visit with noisy grand-children to discover that dad had “just popped out with the dog” on some marathon tour of the hills around Lumb. He instilled in all of us a love of getting outdoors and walking. One of the saddest aspects of his illness was the cruel way that it robbed Dad of his mobility.
So, Dad we say farewell. You have influenced many people in your life and your impact will live on into the next generation. No doubt you will be rambling through the after-life with a dog at your side and pointing out the defects and potential improvements that could be made.
