http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-2165852/Lancaster-drops-payload-poppies-Queen-unveils-Bomber-Command-memorial.html

A Celebration of Dad's Life - Notes for Eulogy: INTRODUCTION I was unsure how to start and had considered a joke of some sort or an appropriate poem but then decided to begin with a groan from my 3 sons! Lads, ‘Gardeners’ World’ is back and Monty Don is returning as the presenter! Besides Monty’s personal illness, he too has experienced close grief. He has lost both parents and a close sister and brother. An understanding wife quietly passed me a weekend supplement last week with the thought that I might like to have a look at it. I didn’t know but Monty attended school in nearby Malvern and now lives in Herefordshire. He didn’t do all that well at school but went on to read English at Cambridge as a mature student. In true journalistic style he wrote in the ‘Mail’; “Grief doesn’t go away, it just becomes part of your life ... I sort of understand now that death is life. It’s going to happen to you. I get letters from people who have lost children or brothers or husbands, and it’s always the garden that’s the comforter. It’s about life going on. “When I had my stroke, I had thousands of letters from people. Maybe it’s because when I’m on television, I’m saying, ‘I know what it’s like to be alive and to suffer and to have incredible joy.’ I’ve learnt to be softer.” To the grandchildren: now, I wanted to tell a story about Grandpa Jeff, we could tell the one about Shaun and Grandpa’s wet trousers and the hairdryer but perhaps we’ll leave that! Instead, I want you to imagine that you’re at school and have to write a story. It’s a cold dark night and PC 293 Parkes has just finished his training to be a policeman and is on duty by the town hall clock in Stourbridge. (Truncheon – handcuffs – whistle). Suddenly, he hears a breaking of glass. He rushes up High Street and makes his first arrest! Brave. Years later when he was a DC he investigated a robbery and the person was sent to HMP Winson Green. Received a letter full of remorse. Dad wrote back saying that as far as he was concerned, he had done his time and paid back to society – enclosed was a pack of 50 cigarettes from Dad’s wages. Kindness. Someone visiting Mom last week said to me, “Don’t you look like your Father!” Praise indeed. If DNA, genetic inheritance and environmental influence stand for anything then perhaps a few of the words I am to say could well be coming from Dad. 2 I am certain that, immediately, he would say to Mom and us all, “Stop worrying – everything’s fine; this is what life has planned for all of us.” It was about 8 years ago, following one of his many operations and, unusually, perhaps a little bit down he said to me, “Mike, I’ve had a good life haven’t I?” Dad, you’ve had a fine and long life; more than most but not as long as we would have hoped for. Secondly, he would move on to say thank you to everyone for putting themselves out and travelling here to show their respects and showing support for Mom and the family. He and I especially want to thank that band of friends and neighbours who have made time to listen, telephone and ensure that Mom got to and fro both hospital and Nursing Home with all those so important food parcels! Dad had a dislike of Nursing Homes but understood and appreciated the reasons for him being there and it did us good to hear him quipping with the Sisters and carers. 4 days before he died, I said “Dad, we’re popping out of the room for a little while these 2 young ladies (carers) move you around in bed a little.” “Those were the days, Mike!” he joked back. In the days before Dad went into hospital, he so enjoyed Radio 2 and especially Terry Wogan. I wonder if he was listening that morning when I heard Terry come out with one of his lighthearted but thought provoking quips. It went along the lines of: “You know, with each passing morning, I’m beginning to see more of my father staring back at me from the shaving mirror!” What a wonderful yet challenging inheritance I have. For me the photographs that have been selected for the Order of Service need bringing to life and I wonder if we could reflect on them for a while but as we do, you need to remember Dad’s very particular brand of Black Country humour – yes, he loved a purple joke but he could laugh as heartily at Enoch & Eli, Giles Cartoons and especially Tommy Cooper. More importantly, he could laugh at himself. Refer to Service Sheet: Front photograph:  This was taken when Dad was appointed Chief Inspector and stationed at Bromsgrove sub division.  He’d learned drill in the RAF; led the Armistice Day Parade in Redditch (when stationed there as a sergeant) and leading the annual and ancient 3 ‘Court Leet’ procession in Bromsgrove was no problem to a newly promoted senior officer! – except that he was somewhat mystified because the band seemed to be getting quieter as the march progressed. He was taken by surprise when one of his squad appeared, panting at his side and requested ‘Sir, slow down a little – you’re leaving the parade behind!’  This photograph is on the wall at home and another copy was given to his Mother, Nan ‘Parkes’. Many’s the time I’ve just ‘sat’ with Nan looking at the photograph of her son proudly displayed on her mantelpiece. (Still small voice).  Dad was born between the great wars and times were harder than our current recession. Harder times were to arrive when Dad lost his Father in a tragic accident at work at the age of 9.  However, brighter days were not too far away. He became Headboy at the old Brierley Hill Intermediate School: one of his duties was to ring the bell and get classes into straight lines – he started appreciating that there was one particular girl that increasingly proved a little more disobedient than the rest; little did he know that it was a besotted Gwen Corfield who kept moving to get a better view of her idol! Childhood sweethearts moving on to share their lives together - you don’t get too many of those to the pound! 2nd Photograph (Wedding Day):  Along with thousands of other teenagers, Dad volunteered for the RAF and when asked by the recruiting Sergeant what his job in civvy street was, Dad explained that he was training to be a butcher. “Ah! Says the sergeant – meat – cooking – would you believe it, we’re short of chefs in India. I’m posting you there!” For two people in love this was not a good decision.  Dad eventually got them to realise their expensive mistake and managed to get posted back to the UK and eventual selection for Bomber Command. He trained on Wellingtons flying out of Stormy Down in South Wales and then converted to Lancasters. His position was either mid-upper or, as more usual, rear Gunner. Both somewhat scary turrets 4 as these were the positions from which German night fighters liked to stalk their prey.  Like so many of his generation, he preferred not to talk too much of the bad times but was certainly proud of the RAF and laughed many times about the lighter moments. However, he did once talk to me in graphic detail about his most terrifying experience: following an attack the skipper gave the order to bale out. Dad found that his webbing had become entangled in the gun mechanism. He eventually managed to release himself only to find that the ‘g’ forces of the steep dive earthwards meant that he could not move. In true film style, the Canadian pilot managed to level out over the sea. Dad really thought he was a goner. The medics granted the crew a few days in hospital to get over their ordeal!  The photograph was taken outside Wordsley Church. As you can see, there was little money available in those days for expensive wedding dresses let alone receptions, hen nights, stag do’s in Ibiza etc. Dad had a 48 hour pass and the wedding breakfast was ham salad! Photograph 3 – Dad in the uniform of a sergeant.  Just reflect on the uniform then and the type being worn these days.  This photograph was taken at dear old Sling House, Hindlip. This beautiful half timbered house has long since been demolished although the 7 large pine trees that used to be on either side of the drive still stand. My Dad could kick my old leather football higher than the trees but then my Dad always made time for me, despite long hours and shift work. Dobbin!  It was about his time that I became aware of Dad’s love and compassion for animals. I can see him now getting out of the car because he could see a cat in obvious pain. It was all too obvious that someone had shot the cat in the forehead with a .22 air pellet. Cursing the cruelty of some people, I can see him using a small pair of pliers to remove it. You don’t need me to tell you that he nursed it back to health.  Dad had just been promoted from Detective Constable and posted to Redditch as a beat sergeant. 5  In those days, a small team of policemen patrolled the streets meeting up with their sergeant at appointed times and places (normally shop doorways). Dad, always up for a laugh, nearly received a ‘disciplinary’ one Christmas evening when he chose to wait and surprise his men reporting in to him by wearing a Father Christmas outfit!  On traffic duty one lunchtime he signalled that Mom had to bring her bike to a halt when she was frantically cycling home during her lunchbreak.  Years later, Dad went on to become the equivalent of what these days we’d call a Project Manager when the police forces of Worcester City, Worcestershire, Herefordshire and Shropshire merged into what is now the West Mercia Police Force. He was recommended for promotion to Chief Superintendent but, for very personal reasons, he eventually turned it down. Said not to show off but to say how proud his family are of that lad from the Black Country who didn’t have the easiest of starts but firmly believed in common sense and the University of Life. Centre Photograph – the Beverley Sisters:  Danny Nash, Dad and ? Bradley (ask). Worcester Rowing Club – a step too far for Mom!  Work Hard; play hard.  Capt Lloyd Williams, the Chief Constable, called Dad over after one such show, and in clipped ex Indian Army tones said, “Ha! Parkes hear you’ve gone in for a sex change. Carry on!”  The coincidence of this is that Capt Lloyd Williams lived in Morton House at the time (Dad’s Nursing Home). In fact, Mom received a Christmas Card from an ex traffic policeman called Ken Timmis & now living in Spain who vividly remembers driving Capt Williams to and fro Morton House, Hindlip and Ryton on Dunsmore for Passing out Parades. AB1 / 1AB. 6 Photograph of Mom:  I saw this for the first time a few days ago. It was taken in the lounge at Uncle Arthur & Auntie Iris’ on the occasion of the Christening of Wendy.  I just know that this is the mental image of Mom that Dad carried until the last second. A beautiful woman, socially aware, feisty, gregarious, easy to laugh and so very caring and supportive of everything that Dad did.  Together, they were behind so many successful social events, especially at Hindlip. They adored each other, were soul mates and stuck by each other through thick and thin. Last photograph – scouting:  They won a prize on this fancy dress occasion and the tradition of being willing to make the occasional idiot of yourself is progressing through the family at a steady speed! I embarrassed Dad one year whilst at St Paul’s College, Cheltenham. During one particular Rag Week, and for whatever reason, I, and someone not too far away from me, decided to cement toilets outside the poshest shop on ‘The Promenade’. The Revd Peter Baker, the vicar here at Salwarpe at the time, happened to be shopping in Cheltenham ... he admitted to Mom and Dad that, he couldn’t be completely certain, but he thought that he and his wife had seen someone very much like their son sitting on an outside toilet and just wondered ... Not a thing was said until the teasing started years later! Conclusion:  ‘Tenacity’ – motto of 166 Sqn Royal Air Force: firmness in holding fast; firmness in holding together. That’s my Dad.  Words & phrases to sum up my Father, I wonder what you’d add: would do anything for his family whom he loved so much – fun – found time to play – always supportive – friendly – polite – courteous – a Gentleman - kind – never frightened to say his mind – didn’t carry grudges – generous to a fault. Fiercely loyal to his friends and family, West Mercia 7 Police Force and the good old fashioned values that sprung from service with the Royal Air Force.  I am going to miss him just so much. But then he’d look me and us in the eyes and say, “Now stop your worrying; enjoy every single day of this wonderful life that has been given to you, many are so much worse off - everything is fine.”  “I am I and you are you.”

Death is nothing at all. It does not count. I have only slipped away into the next room. Nothing has happened. Everything remains exactly as it was. I am I, and you are you, and the old life that we lived so fondly together is untouched, unchanged. Whatever we were to each other, that we are still. Call me by the old familiar name. Speak of me in the easy way which you always used. Put no difference into your tone. Wear no forced air of solemnity or sorrow. Laugh as we always laughed at the little jokes that we enjoyed together. Play, smile, think of me, pray for me. Let my name be ever the household word that it always was. Let it be spoken without an effort, without the ghost of a shadow upon it. Life means all that it ever meant. It is the same as it ever was. There is absolute and unbroken continuity. What is this death but a negligible accident? Why should I be out of mind because I am out of sight? I am but waiting for you, for an interval, somewhere very near, just around the corner. All is well. Nothing is hurt; nothing is lost. One brief moment and all will be as it was before. How we shall laugh at the trouble of parting when we meet again!