Later in the day was the cremation service at Perth Crematorium. Dad had requested a cremation, and this was the place, someone said to me that Perth was the only place they would like to use, I forgot to mention earlier that at the Ailean Creggan Julia had arranged for my Fathers medals to be displayed along with his cap and now we displayed them again both on the coffin and afterwards beside the flowers. All crematorium are grim places but this seemed better than most and again the service was directed by Sandy and this time it seemed appropriate that in the presence of just family and very close friends the daughters both ‘spoke’  Sheila a personal recollection of a family skiffle sessions on household implements, a regular occurrence in Wallington.

”I love to go a wandering along the mountain track”, spoons banging on cake tins, sticks banging together, a bell ringing Dad playing his harmonica leading his ”band”. Dad was good at spontateous fun whether one could call it musical or not was probably debatable!

Many pictures bubble up through the sadness of loosing someone who has meant so very much to so many people Dad was a husband, father, grandfather, friend, leader, companion, he inspired and encouraged.

Now, sadly, Dad is no longer with us but if you look up into the heavens you might just see a bright new star!

Alistair read on Jane’s behalf:

Memories of My Dad

“Dad was a wonderful father. He was an inspiring, motivating, interesting and most of all a protective man.

When I was a little girl, we used to walk Boysie together to the station every morning. This was a special event we both enjoyed; during which we had time for important conversations such as is there a God.

As we crossed roads, Dad would swap sides so he was always near the kerb and walk in time to my steps. He used to tell me that this is what true gentlemen did. He insisted that if anything was to happen, it should happen to him and not me. I used to think this was silly but he made a little game up so I felt happier. Anyone who knows me well will know my hands are always cold. He named my right hand ‘Apple Pie’ and my left ‘Steak and Kidney’. His hands, which were so much larger and warmer than my own, were the oven. He would tell me the Apple pie needed heating, and we would change sides.

After his stroke, his right hand was often cold. Whenever I saw him, I would hold his hand in mine and he would smile and tell me the Apple pie is warm now.

During these walks, he encouraged me to discuss topics such as what happens when we die. He helped me to come to my own conclusions and now I believe that a persons’ soul lives in the memories of those who are left behind. I have wonderful memories to remember my Daddy by.

He was a totally fantastic Dad, who will be greatly missed, but he was in no doubt that he was truly admired and loved by me, and will never be forgotten by his little girl.”

John read

He is Gone

You can shed tears that he is gone,
Or you can smile because he lived.

You can close your eyes and pray that he’ll come back,
Or you can open your eyes and see all he’s left.

Your heart can be empty because you cannot see him,
Or you can be full of the love you shared.

You can turn your back on tomorrow and live yesterday,
Or you can be happy for tomorrow because of yesterday.

You can remember him and only that he’s gone,
Or you can cherish his memory and let it live on.

You can cry and close your mind, be empty and turn back,
Or you can do what he’d want: smile, open your eyes, love and go on.

Anonymous

Mariana and Emma as the youngest and eldest grandchildren laid a poesy of flowers from Birchburn garden on the coffin as part of our final farewell there.

The organist played a couple of Dads favourite tunes

Yellow bird

Yellow bird
Up high in banana tree,
Yellow bird
You sit all alone like me.

Did your lady friend
Leave the nest again?
That is very sad,
Makes me feel so bad,
You can fly away
In the sky away,
You're more lucky than me.

Yellow bird
Up high in banana tree,
Yellow bird
You sit all alone like me.

Did your lady friend
Leave the nest again?
That is very sad,
Makes me feel so bad,
You can fly away
In the sky away,
You're more lucky than me.
You're more lucky than me.

Day-o
Day-o, me say day-o,
Daylight come and me wanna go home,
Day-n, me say day-o,
Daylight come and me wanna go home.
Work all night 'til the marriin' come,
Daylight come and me wanna go home,
Stack banana til the mornin' come,
Daylight come and me wanna go home.
Come mister tallyman, tally me banana,
Daylight come and me wanna go home,
Come mister tallyman, tally me banana,
Daylight come and me wanna go home.
A beautiful bunch o' ripe banana,
Daylight come and me wanna go home,
Lift six hand, seven hand, eight hand bunch,
Daylight come and me wanna go home.
Come mister tallyman, tally me banana,
Daylight come and me wanna go home,
Come mister tallyman, tally me banana,
Daylight come and me wanna go home.

I hadn’t realised that if you have a cremation and scattering of the ashes that automatically makes the thing into a two day event as the ashes are only to be collected the next day. Jane and William did the not too pleasant job of transporting them the following day to Haddington for the ceremony there.

We gathered in and around the family enclosure in St Marys Church Haddington which contains the remains of the Dicksons, Pringles, Cunninghams and our family history going back 200 years and more. One name is added after another to the stones, but my Grandfather whom I remember well, is the last entry on the most recent stone, so I will arrange another stone to have my Father added to this illustrious list, but that can wait.

Ian Houston brought the roses down from the parlour in Aberfeldy as he had his crew cab truck with plenty of room in the back. He transported the roses on the top of a big box containing Johns music system we had brought as back up and for background music until the band arrived. The roses were secured with the same sticky pad the undertakers use to keep them in place on the coffin. There was a window in the back of the truck and it struck me that we must have looked like a very cheapskate funeral service! The roses had been on the coffin in the crematorium but I thought were even better used on the grass in the centre of the enclosure, they were beautiful. Dad would have loved them. We ordered them from the flower shop in Aberfeldy, who showed us a book of pictures suggesting various styles of displays but they all seemed very tight and contrived with display type flowers, very nice but not Dads taste so I asked them to do their best to find roses of the style you might grow in the garden, telling them that Dad had been a fairly expert Rose grower all his settled adult life and they got what we were after. Mum joined us at this point and chose red, which was lucky, because John and I were struggling with the colour. John fancied yellow but I didn’t recall seeing many yellow roses in the garden. Dad grew a lot of pink but would that seem too ‘girlie’ in a big display? The red roses in the book pictures were very closed, buds really, and most unlike the big Superstar roses that had always been a family favourite. However the flower shop did us proud, they found big open velvety red roses which just seemed right. One amusing suggestion, I cant recall where it came from, was that we should leave the display in the garden in Birchburn after it was all over and a note to the deer who had always been the enemy of Dads rose production – telling them to have a wild party too! Maybe Dad would have hoped they would eat so many roses they would explode! Actually we could have done that as John could have got them back for the deer as he was returning to Aberfeldy, I wish we had, but we didn’t think of it again.

Scattering of ashes is an odd business there are more ashes than you would imagine, and everyone who wanted to scattered some. They get everywhere, someone got my shoes, and Mariana and Callum got ash in their eyes. After I had thrown down some ashes I walked out of the enclosure and looked back to see the finer ash particles swirling up high into the sky in the sun,  which seemed appropriate. Someone told me it is now common to fire ashes into the sky in an exploding rocket and ash the whole town which sounds good to me. No one knows quite what to do at a ceremony like this, you are entirely unprepared. Lots of people chucked them on the roses, though the next day after overnight rain, they were as fresh looking as ever

One thing John did take back to Aberfeldy was a tiny bag of Dads ashes to go out fishing with Alistair Inglis, one of Dads many fishing friends who suggested the idea of scattering some in Loch Tay so that dad could go fishing any time, and I know Dad would have particularly liked it. Thank you Alistair and all those who gave the suggestion. The plan is that John will go fishing with Alistair to perform this ceremony, and I asked him to do it at one of the many spots on Loch Tay which are both favourites and are easily described, so that some time I can go there and cast a few lines, fully expecting Dad to oblige with a monster salmon. Like many of Mum and Dads friends Alistair and his wife proved to be true friends visiting Dad frequently and regaling tales of finny adventures (as Dad would say) nearly as good as being there. Dad always had a prolific imagination and I know, after his cruel stroke, he drew deeply upon that well of memories to recall from once he was cut off from the many pleasures he had enjoyed in his active life.

John read a poem call which Jane originally suggested, and others had too:

Remember
Remember me when I am gone away,
Gone far away into the silent land;
When you can no more hold me by the hand,
Nor I half turn to go yet turning stay.
Remember me when no more day by day
You tell me of our future that you plann'd:
Only remember me; you understand
It will be late to counsel then or pray.
Yet if you should forget me for a while
And afterwards remember, do not grieve:
For if the darkness and corruption leave
A vestige of the thoughts that once I had,
Better by far you should forget and smile
Than that you should remember and be sad.
Christina Rosetti

Mum had been wonderfully strong and dignified throughout the day and day before, but had remained quiet, now she said a few words about how Forrest would have been proud of the support she was getting from her family.

Atty recited a small poem

‘My heart leaps when I behold a rainbow in the sky
So was it when I first began
So is it now that I’m a man
So be it when I grow old –or let me die’.

We gathered for dinner at 7.00 and had champagne cocktails, Mum and Dads favourite party drink. In the half hour before we were seated I asked for anyone who had a memory of Dad to share it.

These are just the ones I heard and can remember, or someone has since mentioned to me:

I started with a strong memory I have always carried of my father.

‘I am 6 and I am fighting Dad on the grass in the garden. Atty is helping though he is a bit small. We have managed to bring Dad down and have him pinned down with our combined  weight of 8 Stone. - every blow I land upon him he just roars with laughter, so I grit my wobbly teeth & gather all my strength and I hit him, a series of killer blows into this giant mountain of a man.....

Absolutely no change, he just laughs all the more. And here’s the thought that came to me, and that was I suddenly felt totally secure, because this Giant, who was indestructible was on my side, he loved me and I knew it, I was happy and safe. Of course he wasn't indestructible, that is not the nature of life but I kept that feeling at the back of my mind all through my growing up and now I keep it in my heart.’

How I managed to get that one out with only a wobbly chin is beyond me.

I asked Iain McCloud to repeat the account of Dad as a friend he had said to me the day before, typical of Iain that he had analysed Dad and realised that he was a man excelling in all the four categories by which he reckoned you might measure a man, a great leader, a man of proven courage, a true friend faithful in friendship through adversity should it come. And he was a exemplary Father. Many men can fulfil a few of these categories, few can fill them all. I was very struck by this insight. We can all think how we would measure up?

Kathleen, Dads older sister, gave an account of some of the things they did as children, this was especially appropriate as it prefaced the words John had said earlier but which were of his life as a man, not as a boy. She told a story of their being stung by a bee while they were wearing each others clothes and Forrest came to the conclusion that the bee had belonged to a hive owned by the sweetie shop owner, they often got 4 sweeties from him as a special treat. On this occasion they accused him still cross dressed of being responsible for the bee attack, and got sixteen sweeties in recompense. I particularly liked knowing of their swapping clothes at my Dads suggestion! One of the few things I did not inherit perhaps.

Emma read something particularly beautiful - she had written it despite that I had earlier at the scattering of the ashes, forgotten to warn people to bring a memory or two to share later at the dinner:

“One of my first memories of Mormor och Grandpa was when they came visiting in Sweden. There was always a speciall feeling when they where in the house. I used to run up all the stairs to the guest room and Mormor and Grandpa always had funny sweets with them such as highland toffees. At breakfast I would met them in their dressing gowns. We would have the table set with the nice china, tea, marmelade and always at least three kinds of bread to chose from, because Mormor was crazy about Swedish bread. Then Grandpa would take me to my ”dagpappa” (daycare). He would swing me up on his shoulders ans we would sing ”We are going to the dagpappa, dagpappa, dagpappa...” all the way down the street. Then he would take me for a walk down town. He always took me to the ”snake shop”. Not a shop filled with scary snakes, but a sweetshop filled with big slimmy, colorful, gelly snakes. On the way home Grandpa would shout out ”UPPSALA BUS!!” anytime a greencity bus passed by. As he was alway
 s keen on practicing his Swedish and learning new words. I was most embaressed at the time but now it’s a very cherished memory and makes me laugh. Grandpa also knew all different fish types and would rabbel them, he also enjoyed going for walks in the Kenmore golfcourse looking for ”kaniner, kaniner” the Swedish word for rabbits.

As long as I can remeber I’ve always spent my summers in Scotland, I think I’ve only missed two. As time passed Grandpa was worried that I wouldn’t come because I didn’t have any friends my age. He introduced me to Tara then Leanne but he needn’t worry because nothing could stop me from coming to my Mormor and Grandpa. I loved my summer in Scotland, a great escape from all the pressures that come with being a teenager. It would be just me, Grandpa, Lisa and Mormor. We would have tea at four a clock, count down, sneaking into the backroom to watch neighbours, snackes and ladders, backgammon, golf, uglyducklings, swiming and different outings. Mormor and Grandpa always treated us each year to a special outing. We visited Seaworld, Edingbourgh Zoo, the Safari and in the car on the way back we would enjoy listening to ”One foot in the grave” on tape meanwhile trying to find the odd creamline toffee amoungst Grandpas treacle toffees.

I remember playing golf one time with Grandpa and Mormor. And i got my first and only birdie. Grandpa was so proud of me and when we got back to the Byre, he told everyone and bought them a round of drinks telling me that I would be the next  Jesper Parnevik! he always had so much faith in me and anything I tried to atempt. I love him for that and miss him dearly.

             Love you Grandpa and I hope you are happy where ever you are...
                                   
                                     xxx em

I mentioned how nice it was to make the calls I had made driving south, that everyone had a memory of Dad to share that was their own. I mentioned for example Jill Holman - again old and dear family friends, (Jane I think, recalled Dad called her ‘the Green Lady’, and it seemed she usually was – sorry Jill) and that led to the memory of sticky buns on a Saturday morning after swimming, virtually a religious experience for Atty (who told me he wanted to tell of the sticky buns, but was too choked by the memories to manage a single word. Strange how children focus on the simplest of things like buns or toffees and hold them dear. I personally truly always drew a parallel between Dads view of children, and that of a guy called Jesus, but dad wouldn’t thank me for that one.

Talking of the regular Saturday mornings reminded me of our regular Sunday mornings, despite Dads lifetime view that god was ‘unproven’ - he took us all every single week to Sunday school, and later Church. Although his criticism of the Congregational Church Minister was family legend and John recalled a favourite saying of Dads mimicking  a frequent repetition in our ministers sermons, a fellow Dad called Monty Marsh though that wont have been his real name. He would say ‘Again and Again we failed’ but in a strong accent which Dad also mimicked, and would make it sound more like ‘Agyne and Agyne we Fyled’ which somehow make it hilarious to us all, though we children had heard it literally more than a hundred times. Dad also had special names for the children, John was Twinkle Peepers, Sheila was Sheil- Peeler Macanally Twinkle Peepers. I was Grogger, Atty was Atty-Paleck Jane was JanieD

One thing I had thought of saying but didn’t as we ran out of time, was how Dad used, if ever there was a dog (or cat) and a small child around, say ‘hello Mr pussy cat’ to a dog or vice versa. Try it, any small child is incensed by this, and will engage insistently for a correction, and you can then have a little discourse, Dad would never miss an opportunity to do this. He was a man who could command the attention of the board of a multinational or equally a three year old. He loved 3 year olds much better!

If they were a bit older he would invariably ask the dog ‘what do you think of Tony Blair’ only because it often sparked of a political discussion which he loved. Or older still he would just ask you direct. This flummoxed Julia for many years as she was 19 on meeting Dad and was quite unused to any kind of political banter at her family table. Dad always told me he had a very soft spot for Julia, but then he did for most girls, many of the recollations over lunch at the Creggan were of that vain, one was of Paddy Williams. Paddy and Derek, more close and dear friends from the Cheam days, Paddy stood up at Jane’s wedding and proposed a toast ‘on behalf of all his girlfriends, to the father of the bride’ and got a surprisingly good reception!

Jane recalled another of his descriptions he was especially fond of using. The shorts you often see in old ( Ice Cold in Alex type) black and white war films, he called these  ‘Elephant go-shoot trousers’. He had thousands of weird names for all sorts of things, we children all again just accepted as they were part of the scenery of childhood. One I like to use now – when you have a motorcycle race past your travelling car, Dad would say ‘temporary human being’ usually with no additional comment. Not really as a criticism, as he would have raced along on a motorcycle with the best of them – just an observation which gave him personal pleasure. I am sure he said or thought these things even when alone.

I did remember to say one thing that reminded me of them staying at our house back in the days when they could visit their children, their last visit was 9 years ago, however every morning the start of the day would involve them both having a bath dad first and then Mum who presumably would get his dirty water, this follow on call to Mum was effected by Dad opening the door and bellowing Norrie! or Norrie Dick! Or occasionally Dick! I forgot to add that this was just the start of a day punctuated by military style timings, I grew up thinking everyone always had elevenses at eleven (not five past) lunch at one, tea at four, supper at seven, occasionally cocoa, but only ever at ten.

Even in Birchburn in retirement this regime continued, sometimes to the annoyance of holidaying children who were forced to bend their free style holiday timings to fit, you often found yourself just having had breakfast after a late start immediately followed by a full family lunch at the Kenmore hotel.

The dinner took much longer than I had expected and the band had arrived, set up, waited for a while, and were asking what to do/ We said just to start playing quietly whilst coffees were served but as soon as they started Atty leapt up and danced with Mum. It was a perfect way to start the dancing which did not stop until midnight.

The band were also perfect. Obviously they were booked at short notice in fact Julia spent some time trying to find a band, and was beginning to give up hope of finding one. One chap she called said very patronisingly ‘My dear you need to book a Scottish Country Dancing band at least a year in advance’ she replied that would be a bit tricky as this was a wake. He was so embarrassed he pulled out all the stops and rang back later with a list to try and that found John Stuart and his band Top of The Box. Julia charmed John Stuart so effectively she now has a pressing invitation to visit St Andrews any time!

Home