REMEMBERING
MY FATHER - by Sarah Sourial 30 Nov 2008
It's a real pleasure and a
privilege to be able to say something about my father at this time.
Dad was born 90 years ago in
Trowbridge, Wiltshire, the youngest of 5. The Post Office looms large in his
story. His father, Walter, was an engineer in the post office for most of his
working life.
Walter did leave the family
briefly when Dad was young, off to Toronto in Canada to work and make his
fortune, following his brother. Unfortunately his health got the better of him,
a cold winter and a bout of bronchitis forcing his return. Meanwhile, Dad's
mother, Ethel, worked as a teacher in a mill, which meant that Dad's formative
years were spent in the company of two retired teachers from London, Aunty Nin
and Aunty Clare.
Under their benign influence,
Dad flourished; and he never really spoke with a Wiltshire accent like the rest
of the family. He had a gift for chemistry when he was at school and found
reading chemistry books fairly easy, although for some reason he did not pursue
this gift later in life. On leaving school, he joined the Post Office.
With the outbreak of war in
1939, Dad joined up. His Post Office experience eventually led to him becoming
an officer with the Royal Corps of Signals. At first he was part of the Norway
campaign where, during the retreat, he led a group of men out of the chaos and
back to safety. Recognised back home again as having saved precious lives, he
rightly felt a great deal of satisfaction over this.
After Norway, he sailed out on a troop ship to the
middle-east where he spent the war serving with the Signals in Iraq, Iran,
Egypt and Palestine. His heroics seem to have emerged once again as he was
awarded the MBE. although he never spoke to his family about exactly how this
was earned.
It was in the middle-east that he met my Mum, Joyce,
who was a sister in the Queen Alexander Imperial Nursing Service. Dad described
going to the mess one day and there she was. He caught sight of her deep blue
eyes from across the room and was smitten from the word go. They married at
war's end in Baghdad.
On returning home Dad went back to the post-office.
Mum worked as a school nurse. They found it difficult to find accommodation
that allowed for children, so it was 5 years before, while in Birmingham, they
had Susan (in 1951). The pattern was for Dad to move with every promotion, and
the next move was to Woking where first Nigel was born (in 1954), and later on
me, exactly fifty years ago.
Dad was called up as a reservist during the Suez
crisis in 1956. He left home bravely, and had already embarked on the ship when
the crisis came to an abrupt close. Nevertheless, like all officers, he was
again awarded the MBE and was also given the "Emergency Reserve
Decoration" (ERD).
After settling back into life in Woking, the next move
was to Glasgow when I was four. Dad became the Head Postmaster there. We moved
during the dreadful winter in 1962/3. The journey was horrendous, and Dad often
talked later about driving over treacherous roads with his family in the back,
feeling very responsible for getting us all there in one piece. This was
typical of his considerate attitude towards us and his strong sense of duty
generally..
Dad thoroughly enjoyed his job in Glasgow, and we all
settled happily there as a family. As a child I can remember him contented,
relaxing on a Saturday morning, for example. He particularly enjoyed the sport
of curling, also watching wrestling on the TV. Having been a successful
feather-weight boxer in the Army, he was keen to teach Nigel to box; but he
took slightly less interest in my violin lessons. For example, I remember him
regularly asking me politely but firmly to go and do my practice in the garage!
Sue married Gordon when we were in Scotland, and
stayed there after Allan was born while the rest of us moved South to Bristol
where Dad was promoted to Director of the Post Office's South West division. It
was the same, three years later, when Dad became a Senior Director based in
London, and this is when we returned to live in Woking. Nigel, meanwhile, went
back to Scotland to study engineering at Glasgow University.
Dad retired at 60, enjoying
his long retirement with Mum, getting involved in a number of local societies
and activities, including the Freemasons, Probus, the Residents' Association
and, of course, the "Jovial Sailor" in nearby Ripley. He also
developed a consuming interest in fine wines, having become a Member of the
Order of the Jurad de St Emilion in the early 70's.
These are some of the facts, but there are a couple of
things I would like still to add about Dad.
Firstly, he had a fertile
inner life that was romantic, poetic and religious. As children, he would tell
us about fairies that lived where the trees touched over the roads, and he
would recite reams of poetry. One of his favourites was Lochinvar by Sir Walter
Scott.
Oh! young Lochinvar is come out of the west, Through
all the wide Border his steed was the best; And save his good broadsword he
weapons had none. He rode all unarmed and he rode all alone. So faithful in
love and so dauntless in war, There never was knight like the young Lochinvar.
Dad also had a strong faith in God and would read the
bible to us as children. He was not a regular church goer, but I do remember he
used to ask me to go to church with him when we lived in Bristol. His religious
needs were served best by joining the Freemasons during the war in Jerusalem.
He became a life long member, and joined the Woking Lodge in 1980. Susan
remembers going for long walks with Dad as a small child while he
conscientiously rehearsed his lines. Dad enjoyed much loyalty and kindness from
Lodge members, especially latterly as his health and mobility declined,
enabling him to continue to attend his much loved services right to the end.
Secondly, he was a gentleman,
an essentially kind and generous man, looking after others as much as he could
along the way. I remember him telling me about the time he had the whole mess
refurbished for the soldiers during the war because it was in a poor state and
he thought they deserved better. It didn't take long for the men to trash it
again, and he never really understood this. He would also stop by the homeless
in the underground and want to do something about the situation. I could recite
many other examples of how he has helped others from a genuine desire to
support those with a need if he was able to.
Finally, Dad was 40 when I was
born and this year, just a few short weeks ago, celebrated his 90th
birthday. It was a joyful, grand and moving occasion. The entire family was
there. He was especially pleased and proud to see his 4 grandchildren, and 5
great-grandchildren. How fitting for him to have departed on such a positive
note! We will miss you Dad and remember you always.