Our father was born in 1923 – 93 years ago this month – in Stepney, London. A very bright lad, he was awarded a scholarship to East Ham Grammar, and on matriculation won a place in the Civil Service, working at the Royal Mint. There he met our mother – he was about 16 and she was about 21 and worked in “Establishment” – personnel – with one responsibility being to make up the pay packets. War had broken out, and Dad was talent-spotted by the Royal Navy – pretty much singled out – to join HMS Arthur in Lancashire, where he taught wireless and was later involved in developing radar. My mother’s family had been evacuated to village in Somerset, he would cycle down from Lancashire quite a lot, and in 1944 my parents married there, and within the year had my brother John. John was very poorly as a baby – the surviving twin – and my father was persistent enough to get the right treatment to save his life when John had gastroenteritis.

After the war Dad returned to the Civil Service, working in the Ministry of Transport. He got posted to Singapore where he was the Divisional Sea Transport officer helping their civil service through independence: there he fought on behalf of the local staff on employment rights – being prepared to make himself unpopular with his superiors for doing so.

The family came back from Singapore better off, lived in Hornchurch for a while, but then got the money together to build a house in Burges Road – which my father designed, and Trevor Wiggins his cousin – (who’s sitting over there) built 50 years ago. Dad had a full life at work – being responsible for drawing up the contracts on the A12 Brentwood and Kelvedon by-passes – which he was always very proud of. After that he helped develop the legislation on the carriage of Dangerous Goods – where he was behind the creation of the Hazchem signage you see on the sides of tankers today –my brother John grew the ear of wheat that’s the pictogram on one of the signs.

As a result of his success in the UK, Dad was seconded to United Nations in Geneva as the rapporteur on the International Committee for the Transport of Dangerous Goods – something he was even more proud of, because, as a result of his forensic mind and resilience, he helped achieve international adoption of regulations which have helped save countless lives. He used to say that his interest was all down to the collision in 1917 between two ships in the Halifax Nova Scotia harbour causing an explosion that killed 1,800 people.

As a Civil Servant, father was both a Senior Principal and highly principled – he would have pointed out the different spellings. He loved plays on words and numbers – often the basis for the carefully-thought out greetings on birthday cards that he sent. He loved doing the Times Codeword every day – right up to the very end. Back to the Civil Service, during a strike, he took a day off rather than cross the picket line – but as a result got blacklisted by Margaret Thatcher for an OBE. I think he was rather proud of that, but our mother really did regret missing out on going to the Palace.

Our father retired officially in 1982, but still kept working as consultant to the UN. He was only about my age when he was suddenly widowed after a happy marriage of nearly 40 years he was devastated and was lost for many years after – he still celebrated his wedding anniversary every year as a special occasion. He had been a very dutiful husband, and had a deep-down love for our mother – they had immensely enjoyed travelling round Europe together – and Mum even took to caravanning with good grace.

Dad was not happy left totally on his own, and eventually met his long-term partner Eileen in 1991 when she came to look after him after a hernia operation, and stayed on. They had happy times together, and many holidays, but Eileen herself had some health problems which became serious in 2000 and even more so in 2008 when she went into a care home. My father fought her corner while she was there, having one his of “cases” – that’s how he referred to them – this time with the Care Quality Commission over the standards of care in residential homes. Sadly Eileen died in 2012 after they had been together for more than 20 years.

Dad had many other “cases” over the years. Campaigns included that with Southend Council over their illegal imposition of parking charges around the hospital, the Southend Spy cars and the Council’s decision to draw single and double-yellow lines, despite the absence of a Traffic Regulation Order. He eventually became “poacher turned gamekeeper”, and acted as a consultant to the council in helping get the right legislation in place – although he maintained a healthy ambivalence, and his allegations of fraud are still outstanding. On his Spy Cars campaign he was even featured on TV – he got a DVD player whose main purpose was to watch his Parking Mad programme – many an evening when nothing else to watch on TV...

He seemed to be right on almost everything – data was meticulously researched and analysed – he knew chapter and verse on the legislation and when organisations crossed the line. I sometimes think the Freedom of Information Act was designed just for him. However, his campaigns will go with him to the grave – I imagine Southend Council, the Police and some others will breathe a sigh of relief.

You learn from your parents: John and I have both had our fights against injustice in our day – but neither of us has his resilience, and what I have learned personally is to prioritise – you can’t take on everything: you choose your battles. Life’s too short – though it wasn’t for Dad – it was just about right.


P.S. 26th February 2016