In memory of my godfather

Tuesday, March 31st, 2015

My uncle Gordon pictured at my mum and dad's
wedding in 1972.

I've reached the age of 38 without having any major bereavements to deal with, thankfully. They have happened - people have died! - but nobody close to me while I've been of an age to really feel its full force.

My paternal grandfather died five years before I was born, and my paternal grandmother died three years before. I've always found it sad that they never got to meet me. My mother's father I did get to meet, and do have memories of, but again he died when I was only five and so I was far too young to comprehend the truth of the loss. My mother's mother is still going strong at the grand old age of 93, but the inevitability of old age brings with it the shadow of destiny.

Earlier this month my godfather/ uncle died of lung cancer (and perhaps asbestosis). He had been frail and thin for some time and was in the process of getting help from social services to get domestic assistance, but one morning my dad found him collapsed in his bathroom with what was subsequently labelled a suspected heart attack. This was perhaps brought on by the news the day before that he had stage two lung cancer. Wheels were set in motion to give my godfather as much help as he needed, but sadly within days he had succumbed, and he passed away peacefully in hospital on Tuesday, March 24th.

Among his final words were: "Every time I close my eyes, all I can see are green fields." This is a heartbreaking yet oddly comforting epitaph from a man who was, all his life, a fiercely independent bachelor. He was his own man and did his own thing, and was always a loyal godfather to me, even when I saw him far less often in latter years.

He was mad about Egypt and all things Egyptian, ever since he carried out his National Service in Suez in the early 1950s. He never returned to Egypt after leaving the forces, and with that terrible thing called hindsight, maybe we should have arranged for him to do so, because while he spent his final years in England, I think he left a part of him in the Middle East.

Now that he's gone, my focus has been on supporting my dad, his brother. My dad has been tasked with sorting everything out that needs sorting in the wake of the death of a loved one - power of attorney, execution of the will, informing the authorities, liaising with the coroner and funeral director, speaking to bereavement counsellors, and most upsettingly of all, going through my godfather's personal belongings and papers.

It makes me realise just what a mess we leave behind when we go, especially when we go unexpectedly. My godfather did have a will and all his important papers were gathered together in one or two places, but it is the personal stuff which affects those left behind so much. The things that make a name on a death certificate a real human being, the things they loved and saved and cherished.

Among the bills, pension forms, statements and letters was a cutting from the Derby Express of a story I wrote while there on work placement back in the mid-1990s. I don't remember writing that particular story, but I suspect it was either my first, or among my first, bylines as a reporter. My godfather had carefully cut it out and kept it aside. He also had a collection of photographs he'd taken in Suez, and of his family when he was growing up in the 1930s and 40s. It was odd to see my godfather as a young man, on holiday with sunglasses on and a beer, posing with a sombrero and doing all the normal things people do - but in beautiful, otherworldly black and white.

There were also his medals, his conscription papers and the exact address of the camp where he served in Egypt. I went onto the Suez Veterans' Association's website and saw acres of reminiscences from old soldiers, loads of photos and an entire network set up to help people like my godfather reconnect across the decades. But I fear my godfather had no idea about it. He was 83, he didn't need the bother of the internet. He didn't even have a microwave! And I found that sad too. Using that blessed hindsight, I could have let my godfather see all those old pictures and messages from possible colleagues by getting him online somehow. Now that's not possible.

Of course I like to believe that when you're gone, you kind of get to know and see anything you want. Enlightenment, if you like. And that my godfather is somewhere with his old mates reminiscing about old times, probably in a bar in Egypt somewhere, wearing a fez and smoking a big, fat cigar.

A date is yet to be set for my godfather's funeral, but it will be a sad day indeed, both because it brings to an end the life of a very funny, loyal man, and also reminds us all how precious life is, and how we must live each day as fully as we can.

In memory of Gordon Alan Stratford, 1931-2015

وداع

It's fun to stay at the RSPCA

Monday, March 9th, 2015

Meet Bobby, thought to be a collie/ spaniel cross

One of the many things I wanted to do when I decided to quit my job late last year was volunteering. I didn't really mind who or what for, I just knew I wanted to feel like I was doing something positive and valued and valuable. Giving something back.

So over the last week or so I've been getting involved in my local RSPCA rescue centre at Bryn y Maen, up in the hills above Colwyn Bay. It's the only RSPCA rescue centre covering North Wales (the next closest is Shrewsbury), which, when you think about it, is a hell of an area to cover taking into account the fact North Wales is a very rural and animal-orientated part of the country.

I had my general volunteer's induction on March 1st, and then my kennel induction yesterday. The people up there are fantastic, they are so warm and friendly and welcoming, and most of all, so loving towards their animals. They have dogs and cats of course, but also small animals such as guinea pigs, gerbils, ferrets and rabbits, as well as cockatiels and then the less domesticated type such as geese, cockerels and goats (they have one sweet little goat called Pete!).

It's heartbreaking but also very rewarding working in the kennels. I'm very much a dog person, never been particularly interested in cats (or they me) so it's a real privilege getting to work with them at Bryn y Maen. I can't pretend it's all glamorous. There's the less salubrious side of animal care, such as cleaning out the kennels and washing away dog poo, but that's a very important part of the animal's welfare, making sure it lives in a clean and safe environment, so you have to take the rough with the smooth.

But then there's the other side, where you get to spend time with the dogs. They have so many dogs up there desperately in need of a good home, who spend all their time in these kennels or out and about being walked by staff and volunteers within the grounds. But being in a kennel is a pretty stressful experience for a dog, they're not meant to be cooped up in such relatively restricted environments, and so it's so rewarding to be able to take them out on their leads and let them have a run and a play and a sniff and just be as a dog should be - happy, content and loyal.

The one side effect of volunteering at an animal centre is that you begin to fall in love with some of the "in-mates", and I did just that last weekend when I met a dog called Robert (Bobby to his friends). He is the friendliest, gentlest, most placid dog you could wish for, although as with so many rescue dogs, he has been affected by his past. He used to be bullied by another dog so that he couldn't get the food he was being given, and he was taken into the RSPCA as skin and bone, and now he is very wary of other dogs. Basically, afraid of them, which obviously makes his kenneled environment very stressful for him. Bobby never barks, he takes food from your hand with the greatest of care, he loves nothing more than being stroked, and he sits and heels when called. He is six years old but all he wants is a calm, loving, safe environment. And I thought Gareth and I could give him that.

So for the first time in my life I'm going to become a dog owner. I've always wanted a dog but never thought it was fair leaving a dog on its own all day every day while we were at work, but now my circumstances have changed, it is possible for us to do. Ever since I was a young lad and I used to help look after my uncle's Old English Sheepdog - who, to this day, I still think about and love to bits, God rest his soul - I've wanted a dog. So adopting Bobby is a real dream come true.

I put a deposit down on him yesterday and we've spent plenty of time with him over the last week, getting to know him and bonding with him. I'm just waiting for a call to arrange a home visit and then we could well have him within two weeks.

Bobby has his issues - his fear of other dogs and innate pessimism about new things - but these can be ironed out with good training and the excellent advice of animal behaviourist John up at Bryn y Maen. These wonderful people don't just give you a dog and wave goodbye - there's so much care and personalised attention goes into adopting a dog to make sure, above all else, that the dog is happy as well as the potential new owners.

All I want is for Bobby to be in his new home with us, but it takes a little time, and so it should. Having a dog is a life-changing decision. But it's a change we're more than happy with and one I've been preparing for for 25 years!

Feeling snoozy...

My favourite photo of Bobby, summing up his loving nature.
Look at those eyes!