There is insufficient time to do justice to the life and qualities of Michael, a husband to Rosemarie; a father, brother, grandfather, uncle, and friend to us all.
I will thus touch only briefly upon our shared early life and leave the huge remainder of individual and collective memories for you all to dwell on; enjoy; laugh about, and hold dear forever.
Growing up with Michael as an elder brother was terrific fun, whether it was building carts from old pram wheels; torturing Jenni, who deserved it just for being the youngest; building the shallowest mouse cage to hide from our Mother on bedroom wardrobe, or being chased across the flimsy tin roofs of the stalls in Catford market knowing PC Perkins, Perky as he was affectionally called, would not dare pursue us.
Michael had a desire to share his knowledge.
I recall him rushing home him from his new secondary school to tell me in great detail of his lessons on sex education and reproduction. At nine I was in total disbelief yet he took hours to convince me it was all true.
In many other ways, in the 1960s, Michael was also the standard-bearer for me and Jenni. He fought our battles for us in adolescence, be it pointed shoes, skin-tight jeans, stopping out late.
At twelve we were allowed pushbikes. Once he got his, mine soon followed. It was Michael however who facilitated this by donating his paper round money each week to buy the bits necessary to put it on the road. That memory of generosity, along with many others, has always stayed with me.
We had endless adventures on those bikes. We even bought and renovated tandem but Dad learnt of the speeds we were reaching along Doggett Road and it soon got the chop.
At sixteen it was motorbikes. Our parents thought that they had pre-empted Michael’s desire to break every local speed limit in the area by buying a very respectable Francis Barnett motorcycle for his birthday. Within weeks he had replaced the engine with a 250 twin; put on drop handlebars and chrome mudguards, and was off.
Saturday mornings would often see Michael and fellow enthusiasts around a somewhat greasy engine stripped to pieces on the kitchen table. Father calmly ignored the activity and Mum made endless tea.
Michael then progressed to 500cc Triumph/Norton. Within weeks of building it he parted company on a bend, the bike going under an oncoming car and Michael going over the top, breaking his kneecap in the way. Poor Mum had to visit Michael In one ward without telling Dad who happened to be in the one next door. On leaving hospital, his bike restored by friends, he insisted on riding pillion with his outstretched plastered knee hooked up to his crutch.
Endless, endless tales, but I must draw to a close by paying tribute.
Michael was extremely bright and had a lust for learning and education. He passed his 11+ but, like many of his peers, never went on to higher education. He and Rosemarie however made sure that their children would take every advantage.
He inherited and lived by the many qualities bestowed on him by his parents.
He believed in sympathy and love for all humankind and in the core values of honesty, fairness, compassion, equality and justice. He was a life long Socialist.
His life was guided throughout by these ideals. and, with Rosemarie, they have ensured their continuance in their children.
And it is to Rosemarie that as a family we owe the greatest ever debt of thanks.
It is because of Rosemarie that Michael was able, not only to live a long and fruitful life, but also to enjoy every single moment of it safe in the knowledge that he was cared for and loved like no other.
Today we gather here to say goodbye to Michael’s physical presence among us but rest assured, like his father before him, he will remain with us forever in the thoughts we have: in the decisions we make: in the values we live by, and in the warmth of his love that we know will always be with us.