Eulogies and Tributes

This page shows the transcripts of eulogies that I have spoken at funeral services.

Dad

Dad - Thank You
A son's tribute to his father
by Wayne Alton
 
Dad, Russ, Andy, Pops, Papa Smurf… and as spelled out in candles on his 80th birthday cake… OLD GIT!
 
He inherited his Mother’s famous line, you know: “Because I don’t eat as much as I used to!”
Some more of Dad’s lines? Well, let’s see… there was:
“There’s nothing wrong with that, of course it’s edible.”
“Oh sell by dates – what do you think we did before they started putting dates on eggs?”
“4606”
“That’s better out than in!”
And my all time favourite: “You only want a smidgen!”

Dad, thank you…
In 1968, thank you for wanting the three of us so much that you fought the battle of custody for us… and won
 
In 1976, thank you for the infamous dance that only Dad’s do… and with you it was it was every time you’d hear 'I Love To Love (But My Baby Loves To Dance)' by Tina Charles

In 1977, thank you for making my first and only go-cart with its braking system, that consisted of one screaming frightened camp little boy and a neighbour’s garden hedge
 
In 1981, thank you for not telling me off for stealing those roadworks flashing lights, but instead, building a wooden frame for eight of them, covering their lenses with coloured Perspex that was to become the flashing lights display for my up and coming mobile disco venture, and thank you for being the roadie and chauffeur for that too
 
In 1985, thank you for not only accepting my coming out as being gay, but by camping it up with me so much, it’s a wonder folk didn’t wonder!
 
In 1990, thank you for what was to become the start of many a story about the old army days, including doing a … (yes I am going to tell this one too) including doing a drop over Africa and then confusing us all after a coughing fit, with the immortal line: “I nearly did a little drop then!”
 
In 2000, thank you for nursing me back to good health with Chicken Vegetable and fag ash soup
 
In 2001, thank you for that unforgettable spiritual bonding moment between father and son, as we had the dreadful task of telling you that your Betty had died
 
And Dad, from 1967 to 2008 – thank you for always being there, not just for me but, with me… most recently you and I laughing so much with each blue joke that, apparently, you’d get straight on the phone and share with others that are sat here today. 
 
Finally, one of the best qualities that you had, and that I’m hoping I will inherit in time,
…is just how brilliantly you were able to listen without bias or judgment, how little hatred you had for anyone. 
 
It certainly explains why so many people loved you…
from the girls and I
your grandchildren and great-grandchildren
your family in Nottingham
Gwen, Brian, Brenda and Bob that have travelled so far to be with us today
to some of your neighbours
and then all of our friends, that are also here for you, one last time…
We love you now, no less than before,
To quote a line on the front of one of my birthday cards this year
because it is just so appropriate…
 
My favourite memories… have you in them…
 
Dad… Thank you

John Gregory

It was Saturday 26 February 1983, and it was John’s 40th birthday bash at his place, in Sutton. I was dating Debbie at the time… I know… me! This was to be one of the many occasions of growing up and spending time with Debbie’s family. But being with John, back then, left a huge impression on me and how much I appreciated music. 

Growing up half straight, half poof, I was listening to The Human League, Donna Summer, The Cure, Sister Sledge, Duran Duran… but when we were with John and those moments when a guitar went from being within arm's reach to suddenly on John’s leg… I was in awe. I just wanted the whole place to be quiet, and I wanted to absorb every sound. His love for singing and playing gave me a whole new outlook on music and a few years later, I found myself singing at karaoke, on one occasion with more than a hundred people in a hall. I realise now that it was knowing John, watching, listening and learning from him… that I developed confidence.
On another occasion at John & Linda’s, we all sat in the front room, around a massive 22-inch colour television set… waited for it to warm up, and watched from a VHS tape, “The Everly Brothers… The Reunion Concert 1983,” filmed from London’s Royal Albert Hall.

And this is what John did to me. His influence for good music had me, a little teenager that didn’t know what he liked, from food to clothes, from girls to boys… and there I was ordering The Everly Brothers double vinyl LP while his mates at school were going crazy for Softcell and Frankie Goes To Hollywood. But I didn’t care… I didn’t care because if John thought it was good… then I thought it was super cool.

The story should end there, but I’m renowned for talking for too long, so… this influence resurfaced again around 2017. John posted on Facebook, a Boz Scaggs track, recorded live from a concert. The song was: “Look What You’ve Done To Me.” I knew of Boz Scaggs because of the almost disco hit “What Can I Say” but this was something else. I was sat in front of my computer screen, mesmerised. As a result of that single incident, my iTunes collection now has 39 tracks by Boz Scaggs, across several albums.

John, you’ve been a mentor, an influencer… I’ve loved you since I was 15 and you were 40. You taught me how to appreciate good wholesome music, and all this from a man who was my ex-girlfriend’s Dad. You were so cool, I sometimes pretended that you were my Dad too.

From now on, if anyone asks me “who’s your favourite singer?” I’m going to say I don’t have one… I have many… they include, Luther Vandross, Karen Carpenter, Paul Simon, Rumer and John Gregory.

Aunty Gwen

Our Aunty Gwen was not just an auntie… she was a Mother, a friend and the best entertainer at family gatherings. Gwen’s sense of fun always fitted the moment. She was sharp and quick-witted and had the entire family organised at every occasion. If she was strict ever, we never experienced it. I remember that she was always fair and never took sides. Just knowing that Aunty Gwen was coming over at the weekend or was going to be there on holiday with us had us excited. At Christmastime, Gwen was the instigator and would have everybody up dancing. She was instrumental at ensuring that the kids had their fun by bringing along a bag of presents for ‘pass the parcel.’ 
But she was also skilled at knowing how to treat us children at sad times. Through moments of raw sadness when family members passed away, Gwen was there to comfort us and ease the confusion and pain, whilst discreetly dealing with her own.
As years went by, and we all moved homes, the contact naturally was less. But with Gwen, even that didn’t feel so bad! Because for every time we would call for a catchup and a natter, Gwen was still there… that exact same exciting voice we grew up with but more than that; her laughter. Each time I would hear her laughing… I laughed. Even now, as we all think of Gwen laughing, it forces a smile on our faces.
Fondest memory? I have a few, but one of my favourites dates back as far the early 1980s… In one telephone call, I was called three names before she finally got to mine… it went… “Brian, er Andy, er Jamie… er Wayne!” That line had us both laughing for years.  
Aunty Gwen, thanks for 47 years of sheer fun and laughter… thanks for the memories.

With love, your nephew, Wayne.

David Wallis

David, Daddy David, DD

To some of us here today, the name Daddy David resonates through to the very core of all that David meant to us. For me, his presence in a room was dominant, authoritative and fatherly. He commanded an air of order and respect, and certainly got it from me.

But luckily for me, David was also a joker. Much to the bemusement of others that looked on with some disdain, David and I spent hours being foolish and childish. It was a release, for both of us, to break away from life’s troubles and woes. I realise now that those jocular moments, that he offered so willingly, were the time for me to re-charge and regain the strength to face my problems and fears. He had a way of harmonising playful and meaningless banter with a strong wealth of sound advice and a quality of guidance that I have only experienced twice before, with my Grandmother and my Father.
David, it would be a pleasure, if you benefited at all, in the same way.

David was also a walking and talking encyclopaedia. As well as keeping Jezz and I in line with his wisdom and high standard of respect and morals, he was a fountain of geographical knowledge. I spend a lot of my time at home reflecting – and when I think of any highlights, David’s face and voice feature in all of them. Days out to Hastings, Shoreham, Littlehampton, London and the short break to Torquay feature as wonderful memories, only because our Daddy David was with us.

His other expertise was all about food. We all know how much he adored food, and he passed this on to me. Unfortunately, the consequences of enjoying cooking and eating were all passed on too… yeah, thanks for that DD! I loved spending those magical times in my kitchen (or his) when he would teach me that a pinch of paprika or a touch of ginger would make all the difference! 

I told David that he was the very best replacement for a Father that a man could ever have or want. When Dad died,  I found David… my Daddy David… well, I’m not looking any more. What I don’t know is where to start …… ……..but what I do know is… as ‘replacements’ go... There isn’t one! Never will be.

For anyone that knows me here today, please don’t be too offended when I say:   Goodbye to my most favourite friend of all.

David Jack

< Victoria Wood mic sound effect >
If anyone is familiar with that, then let me jog your memory… it was something that Victoria Wood did, into a microphone that was sitting on a piano on stage in 'An Audience With Victoria Wood,' 1988… and David would’ve known that.
Mainly because it’s something he did on more than occasion when I was at karaoke with him. It would be his turn up, and if he made eye contact with me, would just ‘er-burr-burr’ through the mic, knowing that I would find it funny but not everyone else is getting it.

May I also start by asking that if anyone finds anything I have to say remotely funny, please don’t titter quietly, but instead roar with exaggerated laughter… we don’t know you that well and we’ll just assume it’s your normal laugh… it’s also what David would’ve wanted.  But more importantly, it makes me look funnier than I am.

After I had written my tribute to one of the most colourful friends of all time, I read it several times, alone in my room, then remembered that Mary, Brian and other members of David’s family were going to be present when it came to reading it out aloud… so I painstakingly, and with dutiful respect, edited out all of that colour and was left with this…

“…but apart from all of that, he was also a thoroughly decent chap!”

I could not stand here today to talk about our dear friend, David… without first highlighting the astonishing dedication of care that Ray has shown him. We cried together on the phone talking about David and I remember you remarked that you felt indebted to him because he stood by you when you needed a friend. Well, Ray… I, and those of us here today that love David… are indebted to you. Your loyalty as a friend is like none I have ever seen in my lifetime. You’ve been there for him throughout, making his life comfortable - when he was well… building shelves and decorating his flat, then when he began to be poorly, ensuring that there was ‘round the clock’ nursing care so that HE could be back at home, in his remaining weeks, just as he’d wanted and asked for. You’ve somehow juggled working full-time and nights and then taking over from the night staff that were caring for David. Your friendship continued after he left us with you managing all of the duties that goes with dealing with a death including us all being here together today.
But Ray, you can take a break now, it’s that time you’ve been waiting for and you deserve it! You have been, and continue to be, incredible! I love you for all that you have been in David’s life… and then again, after! You don’t know it but you’ve been there for me, too! Thank you.

I met David in 1986, Cherry Orchard Road, Croydon on a quiet, yet busy evening. He cocked an eye at me, I cocked an eye at him and there we both stood, cock-eyed.
Over the decades of knowing my second-longest friend in my life, I learned a lot from him… mainly how alike we both were… stubborn, opinionated, grumpy old gits!
I couldn’t keep up with David’s knowledge of movies from old to new but I’d like to think I gave him a run for his money with quoting lines from classic TV comedy shows from the 70’s and 80’s… the likes of Are You Being Served? Dad’s Army, Only Fools And Horses, Fawlty Towers and Hi-De-Hi… I deliberately left a pause there in case someone wanted to shout Ho-De-Ho. But, aside from lines from Fawlty Towers, it was a sketch from The Two Ronnies that kept us laughing out loud at least once in every FaceTime or phone call. And we’d do it more with each other, the older and more forgetful we’d get. The idea is that one of us would start a sentence, usually just one word, then hesitate while our brains caught up with want we wanted to say… sentences that typically started with “I’m…” and it was up to the other person to cut in to finish the line with a song title… I’m Forever Blowing Bubbles, I’m Stoned In Love With You, I’m Gonna Wash That Man Right Outta My Hair… What? That sort of thing.
David’s knowledge of everything was pretty amazing. By way of example, if I couldn’t find the answer to something by googling it, my next port of call was to ask David. He had instant answers for: where does ‘I’ll go to the foot of our stairs!’ come from and ‘Why do we call it red cabbage when it’s clearly purple?’ 

I’m not saying David was fussy or particular but when he came round, he’d have a Dulux colour chart ready for when I made him a cup of tea! He said he liked grapes but not the red or green ones. It was amazing that he ate anything at all with how much he didn’t like… I’d often ask if he’d tried a new chocolate bar and inevitably, he wouldn’t have done because he does like crunchy textures, or smooth ones, or coconut, plain chocolate… or milk or white, peanuts are ok but not in a chocolate bar. He’d be the same with savoury foods too… “I don’t like potatoes unless they’re Aunt Bessie’s.” He was the only person I knew who quite liked eggs, except for the yellow and the white bit!

Well, that’s it, my ole pal… you were the last of the original gang. My duetting karaoke buddy for years, the Kiki Dee to my Elton John, the Ronata to my Renee, Orville to my Keith Harris. I guess I’m going to have to get by without you now… the phrases and the one-liners that has kept us laughing through the decades… Oh I’ll still say them, if only in tribute to you… I just won’t get the laughter afterwards anymore. I can actually hear him right now saying: ‘you never did.’ 
I’ll leave you with my favourite line of David’s… he created this line and said it first and it became the classic catchphrase I still use today… during one of many of our FaceTime calls, after a quick exchange of put downs and insults to one another, I remarked: “You’ll be sorry when I’m gone,” without hesitation he replied: “I’m sorry now!” - Well, ain’t that uncanny, David… it’s me that’s sorry now!

Maggie Ward

MAGGIE - A TRIBUTE

I got this app last week. I don't know if it works. I'm going to try it today. It was written by that famous singer from the 70's Lionel Richie. The app's called "Séance You, Séance Me." I've put Maggie's details in and well, it's on silent but if it works, it'll vibrate and I'll let you know. 
Oh, and more thing... I'm using my iPad which has my script here for Maggie's eulogy but look, it's not behaving itself... It keeps changing screen and switching to the recipe book app I've got on here, 50 recipes of puddings and desserts. It's been alright all morning while I've been rehearsing but I just wanted to warn you all.

If I was to sum up our Maggs, I'd say she was a wonderful fruit cake with icing.

Ok now, I’ve been asked to keep this short and sweet… well I’m here so that’s that covered!

Hey, it's vibrating... Hang on. It's Maggie. She says:
"leave a long pause and wait for the laughter to die down…" I've got to scroll down. "I was being sarcastic, you dwarf! Carry on!  LOL"

There was an old girl from Shirley, who said it like is, short and curly
She couldn't give a....

Ooh! Made me jump. Hang on, it's gone off again. It's Maggie.  "Don't do that one now!"

Maggie Maggie sat on a wall
It didn't matter if she fell, it was only six inches tall!

There was a lovely lady from West Wickham
And when it comes to fine dames Dave, you know how to pick 'em!
<well you try finding something to rhyme with West Wickham, its not easy, you know? Ok, what about this one?>

Oh no, hang on... It's Maggie again. She says: "Don't bother about the pauses now, you're not getting the laughs anyway!  Ha ha ha ha!"

Maggie, wherever you are out there
We love you and you know that we care
To pay tribute to you is why we're gathered here today
I'm keeping it upbeat Maggs, cos I know you'd want it that way!

I’ve been collecting some of my favourite phrases that Maggie used to say to me when we were online, typing to one another in Messenger, and as I walked in to this beautiful establishment of worship and respect…. I realised I can’t say any of them! With the one possible exception of the least expletive; “I’m just gonna pop to the kitchen for a fag…. Fag!” Maybe she meant two cigarettes, aye?

Oh Maggie… thanks to Kate and the fabulous group page on Facebook, the tributes and the fond memories all have something in common… laughter, (and tea). Never ever a dull moment around when Maggs was in the room. And then technology came along and made it possible to enjoy the laughter even when she was across town; all through the medium of video calls and Windows Live Messenger. She particularly loved Messenger because it had the card game Solitaire Showdown. You might know it as Patience, a game of cards only this version was a two player game over the internet and she was so brilliant at it, weren't she Irene? She was always winning every single solitary game. 

Oh hello, she's here again! She's put: "It's only cos you were no bloody good at it! Now get a move on!"

One of my fondest memories is teaching Maggie that it is possible to make Lasagne instead of finding it in a box in a freezer. 
One of my favourite stories is the tale Dave tells, of both of them taking a stroll around B&Q. To you and I, just a breeze around the aisles of a large DIY store, but for the bumbling pensioners with three eyes and almost four legs; it was an afternoon of crashing in to people and knocking over display stands that is to this day and beyond… a beautiful and classic memory of Maggie. If you don’t know the story, get Dave to tell you later in The Swan.

Oh hang on, Maggie again, she's put: "Stop yer showing off and stealing the limelight...it's supposed to be about me, not you."

I’ve used this line to describe Maggs before 
(and worse still, it’s not one of my own)… 
heaven’s gonna be a funnier place with you around, Maggie.

And so then… Maggs… 
(and let’s face it, I could be talking about Jeanie here too) 
- forever adored, a lady and then some… with a fantastic laugh who was a fantastic laugh!

And as this tribute is drenched in stolen lines from others… 
here’s the last one:
"There’s only one thing I’ll miss more than you, Maggie… US!"

Sarah Williams

My dear friend, Sarah, or as we often referred to her as, Willsy.
Any story told that has Sarah in it is, and probably always will be, quirky. And this is no exception.

I first met Sarah when Pete and we were looking for DJ’s for a pirate radio venture, 29 years ago back in 1988. I knew straight away that Sarah was going to be great fun. She very quickly became THE Sarah Williams. We used to perform pranks on her during her radio shows and were quite successful at them. Setting a microphone on fire in the corner of the studio at the start of her show was one of them and my favourite; replacing her prized copy of 'Hey Jude' by the Beatles with a broken one and then getting a listener to call in and asking her to play it, live on-air and straight away was brilliant. Her reaction is captured in a recording of that prank and saved in the archives of SLR Radio. She was loyal to the station and she would spend hours promoting it and doing all of the administration, completely free of charge.
Sarah applied exactly the same energy and enthusiasm with a small car-hire business we started and she showed us all how talented she was with her organisational skills, her professionalism with office admin, her people skills with communications and ease of attracting new clientele, her stamina and determination by working double shifts and her expertise to combine it all whilst having another job and being a wife and a Mother.

Sarah did nothing by halves. She was meticulous with every thing and she taught me a great deal. In particular, how to compose a letter professionally and with elegance. She was also my favourite proof-reader of all time. Who will monitor my website now for grammar, spelling mistakes and poor layout design? This was another wonderful personality trait to have in a friend. She had an abundance of eagerness with any computer related task I had and a simple telephone call to her for advice would often lead to her taking hold of the entire project and seeing it through to the end with me.  
She had a memory like an elephant which was both handy and irritating at the same time.
I have to tell you an amusing memory… Sarah invented the phrase… ‘R.’ When I would call her and drone on too long with a story, she’d delicately let out a small: ‘Oooaahh’ to indicate that she was listening politely and being attentive, despite not really wanting to. Over a few months, this developed in to a more colder and shorter version and its true definition was never more clear as my anecdotes came to an abrupt halt with her resounding ‘R’ slicing through the phone line. So, if she ever said that to you, you now know why!

Sarah… a sharp, quick-witted, wholesome but above all else, a fun person to be around.  Who else could turn an uncomfortable car journey with too many speed humps in to a song: “Bumpety bumpety bumpety car.”
Alex and Ollie may not remember this but when they were very young, I taught them the phrase: “I can’t hear you, Mummy.” She often reminded me and not sure she forgave me for that, because for a period of time, they would say that to her in response to everything, particularly if she was asking them to do something!

My dear dear friend Sarah. When I look back over the last 30 years, when I consider all of the work colleagues, temporary acquaintances in business and socially, no one, but no one compares to the quality of friendship that you offered so freely. I know everyone here is understanding of this, because you would have given them exactly the same. 

As keepsakes go, you are one of my favourites and most treasured. 
Thanks Willsy… thanks for all the fun and laughter.
If there is a heaven out there… it’s gonna get a lot funnier now.