My father was the most honest, kind, decent man I have ever known. He worked hard all of his life to provide for my mother, sister and myself. I grew up in a family that was certainly not wealthy, but rarely wanted for anything.
Most of the things that have been important in my life, I learned from my father: Always carry enough cash, always buy the best tools you can afford, always try to help other people and, most importantly, if something's going to waste, bring it home :)
We once brought home a street light post that had been knocked down on the Granby Industrial Estate. What made this such a feat was that we cut off the damaged bottom with a hacksaw and brought it home on the side of Dad's Lambretta scooter. The post held up the TV aerial in our back yard for many years.
My school days were complicated by the fact that my dad thought he couldn't help me because he didn't understand my school work. In fact, the schoolwork was only a very small part of what I learned during those years. My dad taught me electrical wiring, plumbing, brick laying, wood chopping, how to build a shed, how to work a drill press, how to make things on a lathe, how to tie a neck-tie properly (something I know many of you have still not learned how to do) and many other things he was good at. There is only one thing he failed to teach me that he was excellent at - I never learned how to nap in front of the TV.
During my University days, my hair grew longer and my primary means of transport was a motorcycle. When I graduated, I didn't want to go to a fancy ceremony and consequently my parents never saw me get my degree - I regret that now. Many years later, I wrote a computer programming book and sent a copy to mum and dad. To my great amazement, my dad read all of that book. It was possibly the first book he had read in many years. So although you didn't get to see me get my degree, you did get to see how it helped my career. Thanks Dad.
When my Grandmother Eckersley was alive she occasionally called me Gerald. I suppose I grew up looking like my father. When I watch my young son Mark at play, I can often see myself. When I look in the mirror I see my father. As I look down I see that I have his hands. We will continue to use those hands to build things together for many years to come.
My father worked very hard so that the people around him could live a better life. I'm sure that even now he's offering to repaint a set of pearly gates.
Rest in peace Dad - I love you.
November 1999
Gerald Thompson as a young machinist.