On the 3rd October 1939, exactly one month after Neville Chamberlain declared war on Nazi Germany, a little boy named George Collishaw arrived to make his mark on the world.   And make a mark he did, in so many positive ways.  Judging by the gathering we have here today, the number of cards that Jane has received, and by the comments on the website set up to remember him, he certainly found his way into many people’s hearts.

So how did George fill his years?  How did he fare in the scorecard of life?

Well, I could tell you that little George was one-of-eight siblings in a modest, semi-detached National Coal Board house in a mining village that I’m hugely proud to be associated with:  Grimethorpe, South Yorkshire.

I could tell you about how growing up was hard for little George.  We could fret over how his school wanted him to go to college (he was certainly smart enough) but was denied the opportunity. Thankfully for all of us, he escaped Grimethorpe and joined the Coldstream Guards as a regular. 

Whilst in the army, he married Jean, my Mum, in 1959. I could describe how his army life ended suddenly.  How George sought work with the Metropolitan Police, where he was told (given a tough Yorkshire upbringing, being ex-army, and having been an amateur boxer in the army) that he somehow wasn’t tough enough for London policing! 

How Dad applied to work here in the City of Bath, again as a policeman, where he found no vacancies.  That George applied and succeeded with the Wiltshire Constabulary, where he worked a full 25 year career as a policeman, first in Swindon, then Trowbridge, then Calne, and what would become his final move to Melksham on promotion from PC Collishaw to Detective Constable Collishaw; a move that brought him new work colleagues and a new circle of friends, which would ultimately shape a new life with a new family.

We might want to remember how early retirement gave him the opportunity to find new work.  How he managed to get some extra pennies through a spot of amateur gardening; having a driving job for a German businessman, where he picked up a speeding ticket (which irritated him beyond measure), and having an interesting job with a car hire company retrieving unreturned, high-value executive cars. 

We certainly should rejoice in his love of Palm Cottage with his new wife Jane, where he enjoyed tending his veggies; picking fruit with his grand-children and introducing them to the cows in the field behind; going to church on Sundays; and playing scrabble and Rummikub in the evening, enjoying a simple life.

His diagnosis with Parkinson’s disease 11 years ago robbed him of his final years; and after 80 years of weaving his own special kind of love and friendship, sadly he leaves us.

So there we are: a Yorkshireman; a military man; a policeman.  But we don’t remember him for these things … we remember him for his character, his love of people, his humour, his yearning for fairness, equality and goodness in the world.  We’re here to refresh and enjoy our memories of George, Dad, Grandad … all the things that have made us want to be here today; to celebrate his life.

So, let’s remember those qualities …

Well, let’s start with diet.  There’s no question that his Yorkshire upbringing had an impact on Dad’s favourite foods, and eating in general: 

He longed for the bread & dripping he had as a child.He had an utterly unfathomable liking for cabbage water.Cooking was attempted with enthusiastic ignorance – when dating his second wife to be, Jane, George offered to cook a meal and, where the recipe asked for a clove of garlic, he cooked the entire bulb of garlic!

And while some will remember him for his love of chocolate biscuits, I’ll remember him for his chip sandwiches, cooked in beef dripping for that healthy, fuller flavour.  His grand-daughters were equally seduced through the letter-shaped chips he cooked for them.

Dad was an intense scrabble player.  He infuriating everyone by laying out obscure two-or three letter words and getting 30 points in the process by the deft use of the spaces within other words, whilst carefully adjudicating proceedings with a suitably large dictionary. 

George loved his scotch whisky and, like a true Yorkshireman, rationed it carefully amongst his friends.  He loved his snooker, and his time with his snooker friends too.

He loved his deep-sea fishing, aided by beginner’s luck on his first outing, catching a cod weighing 13kg/27 lbs, a size he never repeated, despite many years of trying. 

Dad loved to recite Edward Lear’s “The Owl and the Pussycat”, which he would do, in full, from memory, whenever he felt the time was right, much to the delight of everyone.

George was great fun, with a wicked sense of humour.  Just one example; when on holiday with Mum and her sister Mary in Gibraltar, he bought a Fez from a market stall in Gibraltar High Street, and whilst wearing it, he acted out being a Moroccan trader himself, haggling to exchange Mum and Mary for a camel with some other Moroccan traders.

His DIY skills, however, were sadly lacking, especially shelf hanging.  Whilst living in Melksham, when putting up brackets for a shelf above his cooker, he skilfully drilled through the 30 amp feed to the cooker that was buried in the wall, where the resulting explosion blew him backwards off his stool, out of the kitchen and into his living room.  

Thankfully, physically, George was a pocket battleship.  Hands the size of shovels, with a fearsome grip that he kept right to the end. 

Whilst policing the streets of Calne, instead of just nicking the serious troublemakers, he’d invite them for a punch-up in their part of the town, earning great respect in the process.  A powerful man, he once stepped up to eject a troublemaker in the GEC club in Melksham … he picked this man up bear-hug style, carried him toward the door, pushed through the closed doors, and then dumped him outside; only to be told on his return inside that the doors actually opened inwards!

But Dad never wanted to get above his station in life … George could easily be contented with the basics.  He never sought promotion to Sergeant in the Police Force … which somehow led to a taunting nick-name, a subtle put-down … “Sarge”, as in “Come on Sarge!!”).  It was a put-down which we all knew he really quite enjoyed.

And so …

The people who are closest to him are immensely proud and fond of him.  Let’s pay respect to George’s many qualities:

Love – always ready to engage with people he didn’t know.  He shook hands; he kissed cheeks; he engaged everyone equally and fully in conversation; he told stories at the dinner table; he made friends.

Fairness - never held a grudge; always looked for the positive in people.  Hugely principled, he would always point out what’s right and what’s wrong, with the appropriate level of emphasis for the situation at hand. 

Open-minded – always ready to listen.  Generous with advice, like … count to 30 when stung by a stinging nettle; learn a new word every day.

A sounding-board.  Always offering a balanced voice of reason, whatever the problem might be.A lover of puns.  Dropping them at every opportunity, always followed by a rolling of his eyes in self-praise.   

He was a lovely man.  I’ll miss you Dad.  We’ll all miss you. 

Thanks Dad for teaching Steven and I the game of chess; thanks for the guiding light, which you also gave to your grandchildren Amy and Sarah and to Jane’s children, Sarah, Nathan and Emily, and their children. 

Thanks for the good things you shared with us all as we all matured, and for teaching us all right from wrong. 

As for the scorecard of life?  Well done Sarge, full marks, cracking good job!