Wilf R. RIP,

Today I attended the funeral of a good friend of mine whom I'd known for more that 45 years..

I've put together a little obituary for him and his widow Carol, whom I first met when I was about 18, ( and that's a long time ago!)


1957, was the year we moved as a family to live in a pub at the centre of a mining village near Crook, in Co Durham

A youth club had started in a neighbouring village and it was there I met this tall, slim redhead with a ready smile and a friendly disposition. There was never anything romantic about our friendship, just good fun and happy times with her and her 2 brothers, joining in the dances and other quite innocent social activities of a group of 'Fifties' teenagers.

2 years later I was in the Army and receiving a regular weekly letter from Carol, full of news and chat from our village. I married and returned to the UK but it was only this morning that I learned that during that time she was also writing to another squaddy, this time in Hong Kong, and when his Regiment returned they met and married. I was pleased for Carol when I met Wilf , who when rigged out in his dashing Cavalry Regiment's No 1 dress uniform with its ceremonial chain mail over one shoulder, was, in the Army vernacular of the time, "As Smart as a Carrot!"

The second son of a family of 13, Wilf was the "strong silent type" and a complete opposite and perfect foil to Carol who was described by none other than my first wife as "La Mariposa" ( The Butterfly ) . My late father called her "as dizzy as a spinning top", but Carol and Wilf confounded them all by staying madly in love for over 46 years.

They set about raising a family and I was next to meet them in a really surprising way.

Late summer of '64, I was sat sitting in the middle a hillside above the Pied Piper town of Hameln ( Hamelin). I was attached to the advance party of my regiment ,which was tasked to erect the 250 x 6 man tents in preparation for the arrival a the main body of the Engineer Regiment and then join in the annual fun and games of a 6 week "Bridging Camp"

A field telephone connected by a long cable to the Bridging camp's tiny admin office shrilled around noon on that brilliantly sunny Sunday and jerked me from my day dreaming siesta. " A personal call for Sapper Cunningham"! was the terse message from the "Orderly Scorpion" about half a mile away.

Thoroughly mystified I waited until the telephone shrilled again and a strange male voice with a familiar North east accent sounded in my ear... it was Wilf, telling me that Carol was in the local 'Frauenklinik'( German Maternity hospital) in Paderborn after having delivered their first born, Simon, a full 2 months prematurely.

As my duty was just about to end, I was into civvies and heading for the Hauptbahnhof ( Main Railway station, in just a few minutes. The German 'Personenzug' (passenger train) got me to the centre of Paderborn 50 or so miles away to the West in about an hour and at 3 pm I met Wilf outside the Maternity ward and in we trooped to see Carol. Young Simon was in an incubator and looked to be about the size of a 2 lb of sugar bag. Tubes entered his tiny body at one end and left at the other and leads and connectors covered it seemed every available square inch of what was left! But he proved to be a fighter and was soon back home to Carol and Wilf's MSQ near Paderborn .

That was all 44 years ago and today Simon's a tall slim young man looking every inch his father's double. and ready to take over the role of head of the family

The funeral service was taken by a Methodist Minister who gave a great eulogy for Wilf. Speaking in a strong yet sympathetic voice he outlined Wilf's adult life in front of a packed chapel before sending the coffin behind the curtains to the strains of of Elgar's 'Nimrod'.. And so back to the little village tucked away in the foothills of the Pennines for the traditional 'cuppa' and buffet lunch for all family and friends

RIP Wilf . A good life, well lived, by a man who was truly loved by his wife and all of his children