‘Bob’,
and in case there is some curiosity regarding the nick name, I should
mention that our maternal grandfather called him ‘Raybob’, as to why
that would be, is also a mystery to me, and I pass it to you.
Bob
was called Ray to those that knew him in later years. To me however I
could never get around to that, there were times people thought there
must have been a third brother hanging around somewhere.
His
greatest distinguishing trait was that he lived his life as true to the
Christian faith as is humanly possible, he prayed for me almost from the
day I was born to the day he died, he never gave up. ‘Though, it must
have stretched his faith to the limits at times. Nevertheless, I always
had the greatest respect for his views and loved him without
reservation. As children we shared everything, well, he shared, I took.
He certainly had ample opportunity to practice his legendary proficiency
at forbearance on me, particularly in our early childhood. Selecting a
quotation from the a holy book is a well accepted method of religious
devotees to reinforce an argument, but he took this “Turn the other
cheek” stuff to extremes; when we were attending school together he
was often the cause of my being continually hauled up in front of the
headmaster accused of brawling. I could not abide his gentle forgiving
nature, particularly when others took advantage of him, even in those
days I was an advocate of “an eye for an eye”, which, those who are
still awake, will recognize as another quotation to validate a position.
After
Tickhill School he attended Doncaster Polytechnic and, in later years,
The Bible College in Derbyshire, he also attended the University in
Bristol, all of which gave him a solid background for his vocation in
the Social Services, It was one of those happy instances of a round peg
in a round hole, a rarity at any time and more so in those days. He was
close to completing his course at the Bible College when June, his bride
to be, contracted a severe illness and he was unable to take up his
wished-for position as a missionary in the Congo. This most likely saved
his life because a few of the young men that did go; who were members of
his cadre, were murdered by the Mau - Mau, a terrorist group of those
days. It was at the time of his final finishing course; when he and his
group, were obliged to make a walking tour of England. They were given a
large handcart to contain their possessions, the intention being that
they should acquire skills, gain experience, and learn the self
determination that they would require in their future vocation, it was
then, that he was subjected to a large and undeserved, trial of faith.
I, need I say, was the culprit.
...as
I lay on my back in the gutter, I realized that I had landed by a group
of young men singing hymns and preaching the Gospel. I looked up, there
was Bob strumming away on his guitar
It
was about 1950, I was in the army stationed at a camp just outside
Chester, waiting to go over to Germany; the ‘cold war’ with the
threat of nuclear bombs was a popular sideline in those days and my
Regiment was using the Tank ranges in North Wales to practice skills in
order to oppose the largest army in the modern world; that of the Soviet
bloc. The popular fiction being that we would be able to do something
about the threat of the Soviet invasion into Western Europe. I, as was
my custom in those heady days, had been drinking far too much and had
been forcibly ejected from a pub, for causing a disturbance. I rolled
over the sidewalk and, as I lay on my back in the gutter, I realized
that I had landed by a group of young men singing hymns and preaching
the Gospel. I looked up, there was Bob strumming away on his guitar. He
never missed a beat, “Hello Bry” he said, “Hello Bob’ I croaked,
- a most original dialogue you have to agree. He picked me up, dusted me
down and introduced me to his companions; they must have decided that I
could be just the challenge they were looking for, and invited me to
accompany them back to their lodgings. He shared his supper of cold cuts
and lots of tea. As I said: A real Christian. As always there is a Yang
to every Yin, and upon my return I got punished for being out of
barracks without permission, I had broken the army curfew by staying
with him overnight, it was just to enjoy his company for a while; he was
that kind of person.
I
never ceased to be amazed at his life of serendipity, he believed, and
it became so. As he pointed out, anyone can do it. It is a bit easier
for some, than for others I sometimes think, but he proved it can be
done.
He
married June (Horton). A most beautiful and intelligent young lady whom
I adopted as a true sister, we argued and shared laughs, just as though
we were indeed real siblings, it never struck me as being incongruous,
and I still look upon her as a true sister to this day. Concurrent with
his missionary training she had been training as a nurse in order to
take up a position at the Congo Mission where they planned to go, but
she contracted TB in her hip and it was this that caused the upset of
plans for them both, and stopped them from being missionaries. They
loved each other so very much, like a real life Romeo and Juliet; she
was devastated when he died, for they filled each others life
completely. They had two children; Mark and Joanna, both worshipped Bob,
and one could see why.
Prior
to that, about 1945/46 Bob was conscripted into the RAF and posted to
Egypt, he did not think much to the idea of the discipline required but
he soon displayed his skill with a typewriter and got a job as a Clerk
in 107 MU, about the ultimate in cushy postings I would think. In 1947 I
found myself in a transit camp on the Suez Canal, about an hours drive
away from his camp. I could not get leave of absence because I was due
to go to Palestine later that week. I think the authorities were
frightened that I would miss the train, (these ran through the Sinai and
were targets for the Irgun group of terrorists, or freedom fighters –
depending on your point of view, and, of course, who wins). I decided
that I could not possibly miss this opportunity to visit my big brother,
and off I went to see how he was getting along. He did not seem a bit
surprised that I should turn up out of the blue and he organized an
overnight stay for me as though it was the most natural thing in the
world. Need I say I was in trouble upon my return?
He
was driving along one day, wondering how all the other traffic could
drive so fast in such a thick fog, it was only when he stopped the car
that he discovered that it was only his own car's windshield and windows
that were steamed over!
He
appeared to have no mechanical bent whatsoever; I have known him to
drive his car until it ran out of petrol, and then push the starter
button until the battery ran down. He was driving along one day,
wondering how all the other traffic could drive so fast in such a thick
fog, it was only when he stopped the car that he discovered that it was
only his own car's windshield and windows that were steamed over! I
borrowed his car one day and had quite a fright when I braked and only
the offside front brake was working, I queried him on this and his reply
was; “I thought there was something wrong with that”! Another big
passion, other than his faith, was nature; he appeared to believe that
all animals, birds and plants were put there for his especial enjoyment.
It is possible; being him, that this was indeed so. Once, when
accompanying him as he drove along the narrow roads of Cornwall, he
frightened the life out of me by focusing on a bird that flew by,
craning his neck and digressing about what a rare sight this particular
“juvenile, female” whatever it was, happened to be in this
particular locality. He seemed to lose track of the fact that the car
would need some attention too, I think I just got his attention back to
the road in time to keep myself from having a heart attack and save some
cyclists from being run over. To me a bird is characterized into two
groups; large and small, perhaps I could distinguish a seabird from a
land bird at a pinch, but to him they were individual creatures of God
and worthy of his protection, which meant gaining knowledge of their
habits and needs. He once let me down in this regard: For years whenever
my son asked what a particular bird was, I would immediately mutter;
“You should ask Uncle Bob”, whilst attempting to look it up in a
book. Bob was visiting us in Canada on one occasion and a bird came by,
“What is that one Uncle Bob?” “I dun no” came his response,
“It is a particular North American species of ------- I think” It
was a revelation to me that there were different birds in North America
as opposed to Europe.
The
first animals I remember him keeping captive, was when we were very
young and lived at 95 Doncaster Road. He had some white mice that he
kept in a large cage in the garden, he named them individually, I could
not tell one from the other but he convinced me that he could. He spent
a lot of time watching their antics; they ran around the various
ladders, wheels and mazes that he and Dad built for them and would fuss
if one should look even slightly out of sorts. It broke his heart when
some unknown person killed them all by cutting their throats and leaving
them for him to find. He was devastated. So were I and the rest of the
family. We never found out who did it, not that it matters I suppose.
His ‘post traumatic stress’ therapy was to scrub the cage clean of
all the blood and bloody carcasses and to bury them in the garden; we
did this together and held a rather tearful burial service for them.
He
was a sucker for stray cats, poor mum used to go frantic when Bob would
come home carrying some forlorn looking cat, “Look Mam, it is
Silver” he would say, whilst cuddling a scruffy grey animal. The only
other creatures I remember him having was many years later, when he was
living in Cornwall, and he started breeding birds, I think they were
Finches or Canaries, (or something) he was quite successful at this, and
would patiently explain to me how to breed in, or breed out, the
different characteristics that were required in order to achieve success
at exhibitions, not that winning anything ever bothered him, but he was
pleased to know that ‘his bird’ was good enough to win.
He
was a much sought after lay preacher, and his sermons were always well
researched so that his topic would be easily understood. It was typical
of Bob that when he received the diagnosis of his Lymphatic cancer, his
immediate action was to research a sermon on death, and the way
different peoples of the world faced this situation. “After all” he
said to me, “I am now an expert on dying, particularly now that I see
it from a personal perspective”.
He
always took pleasure in his gardens, and, as he was climbing the ladder
of promotion in his profession he would be regularly obliged to move his
home to different places around England, thus he was afforded ample
opportunity to practice his skills in this field. It was another typical
action of his, and one of the last things he ever did, when, knowing his
death was imminent; he planted some perennial flowers, so that they
would bloom for June’s enjoyment after he had passed away.
Read
the next installment: Teen
Age