Dad began his life in Hastings with singing, and also ended it with singing.
He met Mum when they were both singing in the choir at St Matthews Church. And he recently rediscovered his voice singing old tunes at Summerset Village. Some of my earliest memories are of him singing songs from light opera like Gilbert and Sullivan, and musicals of the day like West Side Story and The King and I. I can remember Dad singing one particular romantic song from Carmen Jones to Mum and her singing the female parts and them both looking goofy eyes at each other. I have no doubt that Dad loved Mum very much. And I also have no doubt that he loved Gwen very much too. He was a deeply sensitive and romantic man in an old-fashioned, gentlemanly way.
Dad’s sensitivity meant that he found it especially hard being away from his mother during the war. At the time they lived in London, and for about three years he was evacuated to various families in the countryside like many other London children. I think he was terribly homesick. Some London children thrived with the opportunity to live in the country instead of the city. But Mum once told me Dad didn't eat much more than porridge one year. His brother Martin was six years younger and just a baby, so was allowed to stay with his Mum.
Dad did have wonderfully fond memories of spending time with family in Barford, Norfolk. He often talked about being there with his cousin Harry and his London cousins Jean and Jill. He found it wonderful to have no electricity and to have to break the ice in the bucket to get water in the morning.
After they came out to New Zealand, Dad finished his schooling and although Gordon wanted him to work in the shop, he eventually trained as a pilot. He had always wanted to fly. However there were many pilots returned from the war, and not enough jobs even for them. I think he hoped he would get some flying in at NZ Aerial Mapping but it wasn’t to be. To his credit he worked steadily and loyally as a cartographer for his entire working life. He did make and fly balsa model aeroplanes at Bridge Pa at the weekends however.
Dad was very inventive and versatile. When Mum and he were to be married, they bought a little white stucco house on a 1/4 acre section on Napier road but also bought the section next door. After a while he pulled out the orchard that was on that section and grew potatoes on the land, followed by carnations which he mostly sold to Hick’s the florists around Christmas time. I grew a few on my own little garden patch and he gave me thruppence for each one, provided it was up to standard. That was quite a lot as my pocket money was only sixpence a week at that time. (Up until 12, every Saturday I got the number of pennies as was my age in years). Dad built our large garage by himself, and I remember a wonderful double bay brick compost setup. In my mind I can see him shovelling out rich black compost and mulching a large patch of raspberry canes and asparagus. We also had chickens and he built the chook house and run. I think the eventual sale of the section next door paid off the mortgage.
After my sister Jane was born in 1960, and it was known there could be no more children, both Mum and Dad worked very hard and saved hard, and in 1965 took their first trip back to England with us. I can remember the excitement in the house as we looked at the plan of the Oronsay and found our cabin. Being thrifty, it was probably the cheapest, and it was certainly on the lowest deck, ’F deck’. Mum and Dad were very careful to explain to Jane and I that we were going to England to ‘see the changes’, and that ‘New Zealand was our home’. In retrospect the emphasis was possibly for their own benefit. Dad often went back with Mum, and once with Jane, and then with Gwen, but New Zealand was always his home.
Some of the changes were hard for Dad to see. A particular paddock that he had had fond memories of, had been built on, and I can remember him standing by himself with his back to us looking over the new housing estate as Mum shepherded Jane and I away, murmuring ‘Dad’s a bit upset and he just wants to be by himself a minute’.
And yet when we visited his old home at 103 Gonville Road Thornton Heath, and had a cuppa with the Andersons who had bought it, he realised he was looking at his childhood teaplates and furniture that Connie and Gordon had left behind in the house. He felt as if no time had passed at all.
Fast forward to nearly Dad’s retirement: Although Mum didn’t have long there, I know that some of Dad’s happiest memories were on the lifestyle block at ‘Hawkeswood’ on Raukawa Road. It was lovely that Gwen was part of that place for Dad too. He was so proud of ‘the boys’ as he called his cattle. They would come when he called. The place always felt so welcoming.
But he knew it was time to leave when he was cleaning out the swimming pool one day and, not thinking about the fumes of the cleaner being heavier than air, nearly didn’t get out in time. He said to me ‘That’s the last time I want to re-paint the pool’. It was also getting to be an increasingly big effort keeping the house and grounds up to his high standard.
Dad was very active. He was secretary of the Outward Bound Trust for some years. He loved camping. Also sailing, and in my teen years we would go out from Napier in the little yacht. And he loved to get up in the hills tramping. If you have to have a ‘heart event’, as he did, it’s surely creditable to have it on top of a mountain. It says a lot for his drive before, because after his stent was put in, he said to me how much fitter he felt.
Biking was also a huge part of Dad’s life. When we lived at Napier Road, he had biked almost every day to Aerial Mapping and back. He we a keen Orienteer for many years. And once Gwen and he moved to Palmbrook, he joined the local ‘bikeamblers’. I think the orienteering, tramping and biking even overlapped for some years.
Dad, you’ve been a wonderful example to me of a balance between an active life and an enquiring mind. I will miss you. I’ll especially miss our discussions on every subject, and not just those under the sun. If you get to read his full autobiographical notes, you will see that Dad starts it with the Big Bang, as of course, we are all made from the same stuff that was made back then, endlessly recycled … which I find a very comforting thought. Thank you Dad.
