steves words

Born: Dad was born in Canterbury in 1953 to Norm and Betty and was one of four children.

School: At school, he wasn’t always known for paying the closest attention in class. In fact, he quite often managed to skip lessons to mow the cricket pitch, apparently with the teacher’s blessing. Looking back, it was probably the first sign of the negotiation skills that would serve him so well later in life.

Carpenter: Following in his father’s footsteps, Dad became a carpenter, gaining his City & Guilds qualifications in 1970. He was incredibly proud of his trade background and went on to build a hugely successful career. Starting his own construction company at just 21 years old, he ran it for over 50 years, right up until the day he passed away.

Work Ethic: Dad’s work ethic was extraordinary, seven-day weeks weren’t unusual. He built not only a successful construction business with countless successful projects across the South-East, he also constructed and ran nursing homes and later in a life a hotel. Dad’s legacy can quite literally be seen all around us, including Polo Farm and Highfield Clinic at Bekesbourne, both less than a mile from this club. Fittingly, many golf clubs also possess a greenkeepers shed built by dad, including this one.

Even after being told he was terminally ill, Dad’s response was very typical of his outlook on life. He said, “I’ve had a good life and no regrets” apart from perhaps my most recent marriage, and then seemed more concerned that the lads on site might be enjoying an extended tea break whilst he wasn’t there. He wanted to get back to site.

Kind Heart: But for all his drive and determination, Dad had a genuinely kind heart. He was generous, loyal, and always quick with a joke. Whether you were family, a friend, an employee, or even one of his pets, you felt his warmth and kindness.

People Person: Dad was also a man who could bring people together. He had a remarkable ability to gather a team around him and get things done (including many from the pubs he used to frequent). He usually started with the carrot approach, but those of us who worked with him, or happened to be one of his children, also became familiar with the stick from time to time to get the job done.

Set Backs: Life wasn’t always straightforward for Dad. He faced setbacks that would have defeated many. When his hotel, The Shant, was destroyed by fire, and his own father passed away in the same week, most would have struggled to recover. Dad simply refused to stay down. Somehow, he always found a way forward. He managed to bring the right people around him, overturn Llyod’s insurance company decision in the high court in London and be paid out for his financial loss.

Relaxed: One of Dad’s more relaxed qualities was his attitude to security. He rarely locked his house or his car. I sometimes think he may have been the most burgled man in East Kent. On one occasion, while halfway round a golf course, he remembered he’d left a substantial amount of cash in his unlocked Range Rover. Most people would have rushed back immediately. Dad decided finishing the round was the higher priority.

Women: When it came to women, let’s just say Dad embraced variety. Growing up, I remember photographs regularly disappearing from the shelves, only to be replaced by new ones. Some things in life were permanent; Dad’s picture frames weren’t always among them.

Miracle Stories: Of course, no speech about Dad would be complete without mentioning his stories. Dad had a gift for telling the most incredible tales.

There was the brand-new snow shovel that mysteriously appeared beside him when stranded in a snowdrift.

The pigeon he managed to catch out of the air through his car window while driving.

Or the golf ball in Portugal that bounced off a cliff several times before he skilfully hit it mid-air 200 yards out to sea.

The remarkable thing wasn’t whether the stories were true, it was the way Dad told them. First-time listeners were captivated. Those hearing them for the tenth time were usually comparing versions, as the details had evolved slightly with each retelling. In our family, we called this “Dad Tax.”

Things that moved fast: Dad loved anything that moved fast including cars, motorbikes, boats, jet skis, kite surfing, even helicopters. At 35, he earned his pilot’s licence, partly because he thought it would be fun to surprise Debbie (James’ Mum) by flying her to lunch. Plus, he was just a show off in front of women!

Competitive and Sporty: He was fiercely competitive (even against his own children) and loved sport, but golf became his greatest passion. Although he only took it up in his thirties, he quickly became a very good player. Even in his seventies he was still out on the course regularly. Strangely enough, whenever he was talking to women, his handicap always seemed to improve significantly.

Mars Bars: He also had a serious fondness for Mars Bars. The Canterbury Golf Club pro shop probably relied on him for a large part of its confectionery sales throughout the 1980s and 90s.

Family: Today, I’m here with my brothers and sisters: Chris, Jen, James, Tabatha and Lily. One of the greatest comforts for us is that we were all able to be by Dad’s side when he passed away. I know that would have meant everything to him.

Dad was incredibly proud of his children and always considered us his greatest success.

If there are two lessons I learned from my dad, they are simple: work hard and be kind. Face life’s challenges with determination, optimism and a sense of humour.

So today, I’d ask you all to share your stories, raise a glass, enjoy the food, and celebrate the life of a man who achieved so much, touched so many lives, and will be greatly missed by all of us.

Cheers to Dad (Phil) and a life well live

lilys words

This is very first draft, defo some things i want to change. Not sure it might be too long! Let me know what you think:

Good afternoon everybody, Thank you all for coming here today to remember Dad.

Trying to sum up Dad in a few words feels impossible. To me, he wasn’t just a great dad, he was the person i looked up to, the one who always worked tirelessly for his family, and would do absolutely anything for the people he loved.

Generosity came naturally. If you needed help, he was there. If you needed someone to listen, he made the time. Looking around the room today and seeing so many people here to honour him says more about the kind of man he was than I ever could.

One of my favourite memories of Dad is simply how safe he made me feel. As a little girl, I thought he was the tallest man in the world, with hands big enough to fix anything. As long as Dad was around, I always felt everything would be okay. Looking back, I realise that feeling never really left me.

Dad was always encouraging me to try new things. Golf, fishing, cycling, he wanted me to experience the hobbies he loved. And when he introduced me to something, he never did things by halves. Before I’d even decided if I liked it, I’d have all the latest gear. Safe to say I was often all the gear, no idea.

Some of my happiest memories are of our fishing trips. It would always be me, Dad, and of course Stan. Stan went everywhere with Dad. They were never really one without the other, Those two were inseparable. If you saw Dad, chances are Stan was right behind him. Whether it was fishing, golf, or just a trip out, they were rarely apart.

We’d camp by the lakes for the weekend. We’d spend hours waiting for the bite alarms to go off, and when one finally did, it was a race to the rods. Looking back, I honestly think Dad was just as excited as I was.

That was just who he was. He threw himself into every adventure with so much enthusiasm that I couldn’t help but get swept up in it too. Looking back now, I realise those moments are what made my childhood so special.

Another thing I’ll always remember is Dad’s “miracles.” I’m sure many of you in this room know exactly what I mean, catching pigeons out of his car window, and plenty more besides. As a little girl, they were magical. Instead of asking for a bedtime story, I’d ask Dad to tell me one of his miracles… or usually a few. I believed every single one of them, even if they may have become slightly more impressive with each telling.

It didn’t matter to me. I loved listening to them and watching the way Dad told them, completely caught up in the story himself. Even now, whenever we share one of Dad’s miracles, I can’t help but smile, because through those stories, he’s still here with us, reminding us that the best stories never really end.

Nineteen years with Dad gave me memories I’ll cherish for the rest of my life. I wouldn’t change a single one of them.

Dad, we’ll keep telling your stories and remembering you every day for the incredible man you were and how much you meant to all of us.

I’ll carry you with me for the rest of my life. What a privilege it has been to be your daughter.

I’ll love you forever, Dad.

from Jenny

The man

Above all of Phil’s achievements from carpenter to entrepreneur, from skis to helicopters there was, simply, Phil.

Phil was a loving, kind, sociable and gentle man. He had a zest for life and an ability to make you feel better even on tough days. 
This was echoed by his popularity and close relationships he maintained for many years and the many pubs he visited! 
 Everywhere we’d go with dad, everyone knew him. As a kid, it was like walking with a celebrity.

Everybody knew Phil and his ‘size of a cow’ sized dog, Stan. He loved him as much as his children. They were best friends and wherever they went, they went together, even to the end.

For all who knew Phil they would know that he had a somewhat ‘flirtatious nature’. Our in house joke was that at his funeral the girls would be queuing outside the door waiting to pay their respects. I’m sure if dad were here, he’d be first to welcome them through the door.

We all loved Phil. The laughs, the tears, the highs, the lows. He will be sorely missed by all of us but the joy he brought to us will live on in our hearts.
We love you so much, God Bless Dad x

Hope the journey back was ok. I’ve added some important stuff and tried to make it celebrant friendly. Feel free to change it. The man

Phil was a loving, kind, sociable and gentle man. He was loved by so many. He had the ability to make you feel important and have purpose but he also didn’t suffer fools gladly. He had many friends and enjoyed speaking freely about the joys of life and the many stories of adventures passed by. 
This was echoed by his popularity and close relationships he maintained for many years.
 Everywhere his children would go with Phil, everyone knew him. It was like walking with a celebrity.

Everybody knew Phil and his ‘size of a cow’ sized dog, Stan. He loved him as much as his children. When Phil was laid up in intensive care, two of his sons trolleyed Stanley to his bedside where they could be together.

People in the hospital corridors would stop and admire the size of this dog on a trolley. Oh and point, saying vets this way.

It was to be their last goodbye and so many tears were shed in that moment but belief that they would reunite again.

They were best friends and wherever they went, they went together… even to the end.

For all who knew Phil they would know that he had a somewhat ‘flirtatious nature’. Our ‘in house’ joke was that at his funeral the women would be queuing outside the door waiting to pay their respects.
 If Phil was here, he’d be first to welcome them through the door armed with his one liners.

We all loved Phil. The laughs, the tears, the highs, the lows. He will be sorely missed by all of us but the happiness he brought will live on in our hearts.