John gave a summary of my Father’s life and used extracts from Dad’s book ‘Seafaring - a chosen profession’ to illustrate it.
My Father
“I have the unenviable task of trying to condense my father’s life into 10 mins, for this I have relied on his book, copies of which will be available after the service. Don’t worry this is not a sales pitch; we are giving them away.
My father was a Scot and very proud of his roots. His father was of good border stock, from Haddington, made up from Pringles, Cunningham’s Forrest’s and of course DICKSON’S.
His mother was half highland and half lowland. Her Grandfather was a well known Edinburgh Ballie who would not pay a new tax on his annuities. You may know the rhyme “Ballie Stott was made to trot off to the Carlton Jail”. You see breaking the law for unfair taxes like the pole tax and council tax had along and honourable tradition.
The call to sea was strong as his father was a clipper ship Captain. His first ship was the Kemmendine, signing on as an apprentice in Glasgow for a line that ran from Glasgow and Birkenhead to Rangoon and seemed to stop off at all points in between. Like many merchant seamen he was in the Royal Naval Reserve, and so was called up to fight in the Second World War. His first posting was to the Delhi, where he was a midshipman.
However he spent most of the war in destroyers, serving in the Atlantic in the Keppel, and in the same ship in the Artic convoys. He was on the infamous PQ17 where the Admiralty thought the Tirpitz would attack the convoy. It was scattered at great loss of life.
In the latter stages of the war he saw service in the Relentless in the war against Japan.
He then returned home to work up the Anthony, which was the fastest destroyer in the navy. When she was in Rosyth he met Norma, my mother for the first time.
With peacetime he was demobbed and became engaged to our mother. He studied at Leith Nautical College, where he managed to pass his 2nd Mate, Mates, and Masters exams all at the same time. This was a man who claimed not to be very academic. While he studied for his extra masters he was teaching Radar, something he had made his speciality during the war. For this he received £435 per annum. He told me he had forgotten how many times he failed his extra masters ticket.
Why all thrush you may well ask? All this study was leading to one thing, when he passed his masters he had promised himself that he and Norma would get married.
Next he joined SHELL, because they paid an extra £50/annum to extra masters. He was sent to Borneo on an open-ended contract to survey for a new port and oil refinery. This was not easy as Mum was pregnant with Sheila at this time.
The team under him spent a great deal of time getting all the charts required for this new operation, before the engineers from the Hague came out to start the construction of the oil refinery. They asked where he intended the refinery to be sighted, when they were shown a sandbank they were horrified, nobody had given him any guidance as to the foundations needed to make such a construction. They had to create an artificial island to make ground for this new development. He had a Dyak friend who told him, at the start of the Korean war that if the land was invaded “You come up river and we will hide you with us”.
In the early 1950’s he was promoted to Assistant Marine Superintendent; based in Waterloo in London. This meant a move down south to Wallington in Surrey, our family home for 16 years.
During this time tankers grew bigger and bigger; first to 100,000 tonnes then 200,000 tonnes and finally the 300,000 super tankers. These were so big that they could only dock in one port in Europe Rotterdam. You might wonder how oil was delivered into other European ports. The answer was called lightening: a smaller tanker was brought alongside, and while they both steamed up the channel oil was pumped from the super-tanker into the other. This was made possible by an invention of my father that he termed a “whale”: large inflatables that were held between the two ships to keep them tied together without causing damage.
Other invention of his was the single buoy mooring; which allowed a tanker to take on or discharge oil through a single swivel pipe at the bough. The ship was allowed to swing around on this one mooring. This was used extensively in the North Sea on small fields. My father could have resigned his post and made a fortune out of this invention, but he was a company man. Shell also chose to make this available to all oil companies for the betterment of all.
He was very interested in later years on matters of safety. He pushed for the adoption of lanes for shipping in the English Cannel one of the busiest sea-lanes in the world. On the 1st January 1970 he was elected on to the board of Shell International Marine. You will notice this is one of the few dates I have mentioned, as my father was not very good at remembering dates.
In his retirement he took up the chair of the Northern Lighthouse Board. He and my mother moved to Kenmore where they made many strong friendships; I can see many of you here today. Here he developed his love of golf, bridge, and most of all fishing.
My father and mother had a very long and (pointing to the front rows) fruitful marriage.”
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Someone said in typical Scottish humour that they had paid good money for a copy when first published, and now we were giving them away free!
Sandy picked up on the point John made about Dad’s invention of coming alongside and lightening oil from a super-tanker to a smaller vessel whilst on the move, and used this as an analogy for the support friends and family can give protecting one who needs someone ‘alongside.’ I am so appreciative of Sandy’s support. To have, in my Father’s circumstances (as an agnostic, or whatever you would call him, as I certainly don’t think of him that way) a minister who knew my father and his views and style, and who was clearly very fond of him, was very special. Sandy very skilfully added a ‘time for quiet reflection’, and managed to direct those that wished to pray that this was their time, without introducing the aspects of that time that would have offended my Father. Thank you Sandy.
Here is what I chose to say, I wrote this on Tuesday at about six in the morning waiting for the day to come to get on with whatever was next, and it didn’t take a moment to know what to say, it was just there to be written down. Speaking it in the church was a different matter, despite Dad’s request for this to be a happy occasion getting though this was tough. I wasn’t at all nervous, but I could feel me knees bobbing up and down like I can’t remember since I was a schoolboy. Raw emotion.
"I would like to give you one Memory of Dad, And I would like to explain something about Dad & today.
I want to tell you about Dads Spirit an unconventional irrepressible joy of life that manifested itself in day to day life as what I can only describe as a kind of ‘cheeky sparkle’ - Dads secret weapon he applied with Devastating effect. Against Pomposity, Aggression, Drudgery, Complexity, Adversity. In family affairs, In education, in Business, against Japanese, Germans & Italians, against Royalty! Especially Greek Royalty! - No one was safe!
And in favour of love, life, fun, the triumph of spirit. Of us all from the humblest 'wee mousey' upwards.
God knows Dad has had a struggle the last few years and sometimes it got the better of his spirit. I know Mum suffered through periods when it seemed his sparkle gone. But I can honestly say there was never ONCE as a more occasional visitor when I didn’t see the sparkle appear at least for a moment or two, and I took comfort from that.
I hope those of you who only knew Dad more recently recognise what I am talking about? Perhaps you do.
But can you imagine the kind of man Dad was when he was mainly sparkle with the odd moment of sadness depression or just life’s mundanity.
If you can remember that remarkable man - reflect on that image for a moment.
...............
So this IS a Happy Occasion for me as Dad asked for it to be.
I felt like saying Bride or groom? as you all arrived!
& though I have had my wobbly moments and still will, for me I am already happy in Dads returning sparkle.
Now Dads core belief was (Contrary to the expectation of many) that you do live on- But he believed you live on through your children which was why he wanted as many as one loving wife could reasonably produce.
And I am pleased to announce that I and my siblings have all inherited among other things a certain cheeky sparkle!
And in that spirit I have no problem choosing a Reading Dad would choose”
A poem by Marriot Edgar read the way Dad used to recite it to us as children by heart, in his style, in a broad, I think Lancashire accent, & with his modifications - or improvements as he would put it.
Albert & The Lion
To a sea side town named Blackpool,
That's noted for amusement and fun,
Went Mr and Mrs Ramsbottom
Taking with em young Albert, their son.
A grand little lad was young Albert,
All dressed in his best; quite a swell
With a stick with an 'orse's 'ead 'andle,
The finest that Woolworth's could sell.
They didn't think much of the Ocean:
The waves, they were fiddlin' and small,
There was no ship-wrecks and nobody drownded,
Fact, nothing to laugh at at all.
So, seeking for further amusement,
They paid and went in t Zoo,
Where they'd Lions and Tigers and Camels,
And old ale and sandwiches too.
There were one great big Lion called Wallace;
His face were all covered in scars -
He lay in a somnolent posture,
With the his nose pressed up 'gainst bars.
Now Albert had heard about Lions,
How they was ferocious and wild -
To see Wallace lying so peaceful,
Well, it didn't seem right to the child.
So straightway the brave little feller,
Not showing a morsel of fear,
Took his stick with its 'orse's 'ead 'andle
And poked it in Wallace's ear.
You could see that the Lion didn't like it,
Cos e let out a fearful roar,
He pulled Albert in't cage with 'im,
And swallowed the little lad 'ole.
Then Pa, who had seen the occurrence,
And didn't know quite what to do ,
Said 'Mother! Yon Lion's 'et our Albert',
And I’m in 'is Sunday best too!
So Mr and Mrs Ramsbottom -
Quite rightly, when all's said and done -
Complained to the Animal Keeper,
That the Lion had eaten their son.
The keeper was quite nice about it;
He said 'What a nasty mishap'.
Are you sure your boy's been eaten?'
Pa said "Am I sure? There's his cap!'
The manager had to be sent for.
He came and he said 'What's to do?'
Pa said 'Yon Lion's 'et our Albert,
'And 'im in his Sunday clothes, too.'
Then Mother said, 'Right's right, young feller;
I think it's a shame and a sin,
For a lion to go and eat Albert,
And after we've paid to come in.'
The manager wanted no trouble,
He took out his purse right away,
Saying 'How much to settle the matter?'
And Pa said "What do you usually pay?'
But Mother had turned a bit awkward
When she thought where her Albert had gone.
She said 'No! someone's got to be summonsed' -
So that was decided upon.
Then off they went t P'lice Station,
& In front of the Magistrate chap;
They told 'im what happened to Albert,
And proved it by showing his cap.
The Magistrate gave his opinion
That no one was really to blame
And he said that he 'hoped the Ramsbottoms
Would have further sons to their name'.
At that Mother got proper blazing,
'And thank you, sir, kindly,' said she.
'Waste all our lives raising children
To feed ruddy Lions? Not me!'
And as Dad might say
Here endeth the lesson’’.
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Atty, as youngest son gave a throat clenching account of some of his recollections:
‘’Wow, follow that .. as always my brothers have pinched some of my best lines but not to worry there are still plenty of good stories to tell.
My job today is to give you a few memories of Dad from the perspective of the baby son.
In recent years, unsurprisingly my father’s thoughts turned towards this inevitable dark day and we have a fairly good idea of what he wanted … a really humongous great party!
Dad didn’t want any tears and today we have agreed to have a ‘tear box’ rather than a swear box .. I reckon I’m up to about £40, but come to think of it my father always thought you should obey the spirit rather than the letter of the law.
Dad was a great story teller and never let accuracy get in the way of a strong narrative line. I hope that he and you will grant me the same license.
My first memory is of a big man happily pottering in a beautiful rose garden, a mysterious phone call early in the morning and he would disappear to save a stricken vessel from a stormy sea or wrestle with a wildfire in a remote oilfield, impossible boys own adventures which he clearly loved. Then, just as mysteriously he would be back with strange sweeties or fruits and a whiff of the exotic and we would be told in whispers that he was home and asleep and mustn’t be wakened .. in the middle of the day!
I see a car full of fractious children hurtling up the great north road towards his beloved Arran. Just when internecine strife seemed to be about to tip into real bloodshed, he would catch our attention with a nonsense rhyme a song or a fantastical story .. I remember one character: McFadyen the baden a ferocious pirate doomed to sail the seven seas like The Flying Dutchman, in an endless quest for Tunnock’s caramel waters. You can maybe just faintly hear the sound of laughter and singing as the car disappears northwards.
Fishing was a big part of Dads life and he tried to pass on those skills to his sons with varying degrees of success. I remember him patiently extricating small trout hanging like Christmas decorations from the trees of the Monyqueel burn, or flies from his coat hat and on one memorable occasion his ear as his youngest son tried and failed to master the art of casting from a small boat in a windy loch.
I make him sound like a saint, his anger could be pretty terrifying when his patience was exhausted by the naughtiness of wee boys, but looking back I think he could always remember his own similar pranks, and the storms never lasted very long. One time when we thought we had been really wicked, racing motorbikes on the pavement at Carlton Avenue, we were amazed to learn that he, a couple of years younger than we were then, had driven a taxi and got his fare perched on a couple of books to see out of the windscreen.
He was a great competitor and to this day I am still not sure if those amazing words he used to fit around the triple letter score in scrabble were really ‘guid broad Scots’ as he so innocently claimed or just another outrageous bluff.
Despite his keenness to win he had a tremendous sense of fair play and was genuinely delighted when one of his children bested him in argument or in a game.
He had a tremendous appetite for life and a particular appetite for prawns. I remember a wonderful Chinese meal where his dexterity with chopsticks (learnt no doubt in some exotic posting) meant that he managed to pick out all the prawns from the spread whilst airily talking politics and gossip the while, leaving us the rice and pear.
One last picture for you, Dad sitting with the rest of the family watching the comics on the telly 30 years ago very contented, with Mum gently rubbing his head and with that ...
It’s goodbye from me and it’s goodbye from him!’’
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Flowers were from the family, and donations were invited to Seafarers UK the former King George’s Fund for Sailors. And £570.22 was raised with several more cheques still in the post from friends who could not attend.
I found the atmosphere in the Weem Parish Church intensely emotional and was relieved to emerge into the warm sunshine. My mother was insistent that she go first to the Hotel and greet people there but that meant she and I missed speaking to folk who had come only for the service and that was a shame. In particular I missed Don & Cathy from the Isle of Arran who were very much a part of my childhood holidays and whom I have not seen for many years and would have loved to have spoken to. I know Mum was upset also by missing Don & Cathy and all the other friends and family who could not come along to the lunch.
Lunch was at the Ailean Creggan Hotel for lunch this had been one of my fathers favourite restaurants along with the Kenmore, especially going along there with Jonas and eating hardy believable quantities of entirely unsuitable foods, you could not help feeling him there as we sat, many of us outside in the sunshine doing what Dad liked best having a friends and family get together. The staff knew Dad over the 25 years of their time in Tayside, it all seemed very fitting. The Gillespie family run a ‘very tight ship’ as my father would have put it and did us proud with an informal and relaxed environment and refreshments.
There were many interesting people to catch up with, and I won’t recount all the conversations but one especially did me good, it was between my second cousin Willy Porter and my Mother. He told her that he only wished they had thought of doing something like this when his Father died. Apparently they had an impersonal and inappropriate address from a ‘sky pilot’ who was perhaps one that my Father would have had a go at given the chance. Willy said that what we achieved was to show the emotion, love, respect and value in Dads life, and the happiness he had created in those he leaves behind. Just what we were trying to do, and I believe Dad had requested. Thank you Willy.
Later in the day... |
