For those of you who were unable to attend, here is my mumbled offering on the day.

Jim came into my life over 10 years ago when I had the good fortune to meet his grandaughter Olivia. I remember my immeadiate impression of him was of a quite intimidating man, which when you are into your mid-late seventies is no mean feat. But that was his stature, a principled man whom I respected from the start, and that respect was reciprocated even if we didn’t always agree with each other.

We got off to a slightly bumpy start when we realised over the first of many rambling disussions about football that we came from opposing ends of the football spectrum, Jim being an Arsenal fan, and me being a fan of their arch rivals Spurs, but he managed to overlook that (or deny it) and we started to hit it off.

Eventually when Olivia and I married I felt that not only had a gained a new family, but that I had found a kind of surrogate Grandfather figure in Jim, having lost mine at a fairly young age.

He was a pretty social being, Liv and myself would often remark that he had a more hectic and packed social life that we did. Always well turned out, I seem to recall him turning up on one of keiths birthday gatherings in a tux, and then proceeding to whack the punchbag that was keiths birthday gift with more power than I could ever hope to generate, it was a sight I can tell you!

Regular sunday dinners at Keith and Deborahs were where the majority of our verbal sparring would occur, dinners that would only start once Jim had finished watching whichever match was on TV! He was passionate about sport, was a keen winger in his youth which lead to an appearance at wembley, boxed in the Navy, played golf & bowls and all with an innate sense of fair play.

When our second son was born, we named him James partly in homage to him. He had affection for his great grandchildren, but when in the last few years he a finally admitted that his hearing was failing him, you could see him slyly turn off his hearing aid when the kids got too loud at family gatherings, I couldn’t really blame him.

Always keen to seek a bargain, he was frequently to be seen at the car boot sales, browsing, bartering, or just instigating a chat, we would regularily receive him on a sunday afternoon with yet another garden tool, or whatever he felt we needed at that time (our shed is testament to that), such was his way but they all came with a story.

Jim’s early life was as vast and fasicinating an experience that would be enough to fill several lifetimes, and was a regular source of post dinner stories, indeed, It would often be remarked by deborah that his early experiences should have been written down for all to see, a story that would be as rich and compelling as any bestseller, unfortunately this was not to be. Hopefully, now, each of us in our own personal recollections can thread together the larger story and share them with each other, a fitting legacy on a life well lived.

Even the smallest of gestures is a fitting tribute, Just a small immitation of Jim saying “Oiiy” is enough to evoke a startled reaction from his great grandchildren, and When ever I hear one of them telling another to “stop picking your rock” when having a nose rummage, it will elicit a wry smile, and perhaps for now a small tear.

Reading

“A death is not the extinguishing of a light,
but the putting out of a lamp because the dawn has come.
Life is given to us,
but we earn it by living it”

and that’s what Jim did