It's with some trepidation that I post the following two speeches, and If I don't feel comfortable I could well remove them. The reason for posting is that friends have asked to read both of them over the last few weeks and I don't believe in being precious about my writing, no matter how wonderful or tragic the circumstances. All that remains to say is that I'll endeavour to post the 'Allotment' poem next time I get the chance.
04/04/09
Firstly, I’d like to say how beautiful my wife looks today! May I propose a toast to Mrs Charlotte Watts!
Charlotte and I have been together for seven and a half-years. After a couple of years together, whenever Char started hinting that it was time for me to pop the question, I used to say she had to complete a fifteen year probationary period. (I know, what a swine, eh?) Well, almost exactly halfway into that period, we’re now married, so she must’ve been incredibly well behaved to get such a reduced sentence!
By the way, for any gamblers in the room, I’ve heard Ladbrooke’s are offering good odds on the exact moment I start crying in this speech. If I stick to the script, I might just get through...
Char and I first met on the fruit and veg aisle at Co-Op. I was completely besotted with her, and if you’ve ever seen the uniform girls have to wear at Co-Op, you’ll know that she must have had quite some impact on me, to fall in love with someone in a multi-coloured blouse and blue tabard combination.
Which brings me on to my best man Chris. Because when I told him there was a girl I really liked at work, all those years ago, he stomped into the supermarket one day, stood right next to Char and shouted: “GAZ - IS IT THIS ONE?”
Other than that, Chris is a subtle, sophisticated man and I’m not going to say anything else about him for 2 reasons: 1) He’s about to do a speech about me and 2) I’m saving all that stuff for a speech I’d like to do for him, if he pulls his finger out and does the honourable thing with Cathryn.
Chris has been an amazing friend to me over the years, we’ve been through a lot together and I’d like to think we’ve always been there for each other.
Chris organised the best stag-do I could have possibly hoped for. He arranged for 8 of us to fly to Berlin: one of the most interesting and historic cities in Europe. No other city could claim to have been at the epicentre of so many extraordinary events over the past hundred years, so, of course ... we got drunk every night, watched the snooker on Eurosport and went go-karting!
It was like being in an episode of Auf Wiedersehen Pet.
Seriously, it was an amazing time and just great to let off some steam with my friends was fantastic. Andy had us all in stitches by refusing to speak English - rather he’d spend minutes earnestly consulting his pocket German dictionary before saying ‘Ja, das ist gut!’ Darren was always on-hand with a pithy one-liner that can’t be repeated in polite company, and Steve behaved like he was in an episode of Dad’s Army. I’ll always be grateful to all of you for making it so special.
Similarly, I know Charlotte was delighted with her hen-do, and would like to thank everyone that came along to her animal themed day. The girls visited London zoo, had a boat ride on the Thames and then a night out at a very trendy nightclub in Camden. Charlotte was dressed as a tiger during this night out - if you haven’t seen the photos I urge you to look them up on Facebook.
Personally, I found there were advantages and disadvantages to Char’s hen-night. On the one hand, there was an awful lot of wine left in the flat - greatly appreciated after a hard day’s teaching. But on the other hand, I keep finding what can only be described as ‘phallic’ shiny pink confetti, which was thrown around the flat, has stuck to my clothes. Not a good look for a teacher wanting to be taken seriously in the classroom.
I’d like to thank Charles for a wonderful speech. It’s also great today to finally be able to call him my brother-in-law. Where Charles is concerned, I do feel rather guilty: when I first met him he had chosen sensible, scientific A Levels. Yet, somewhere along the line, someone convinced him that studying English Literature was a good idea. He’s gone on to achieve a first in his English degree and is now doing very well with his Masters. Seriously, if I did have anything to do with this success, it makes me feel very proud indeed. He’s a scholar and a gentleman.
It’s also been brilliant to know Charlotte’s mum, Kate, for all these years. Perhaps it says something about living in a small town, but both Charlotte and I knew our Mother-in-laws before we knew each other: Kate and I worked together at Co-Op, Char worked with Mum at It’s A Gift.
I spoke earlier about falling in love with Charlotte whilst working at the Co-Op and I distinctly remember Kate pulling over in her car one afternoon, winding-down the window and saying ‘go for it, Gaz!’
For that, and for letting my band rehearse in your garage and making a right racket, I’ll always be grateful!
I promise I’ll shut-up in a minute. Apparently, at Ladbrooke’s, they have this moment as odds-on favourite... I’d like to talk a little bit about Mum and Dad. They are the most wonderful parents anyone could hope to have. Thanks to them, Char and I will be jetting off to Egypt for a week of five-star, all-inclusive treatment on Monday. Yet their influence on us goes far beyond a great honeymoon: more than parents or in-laws, they’re our friends. It goes without saying, that if we knew what we know now, we probably wouldn’t have moved to London when we did, and we probably would have got married a lot sooner.
Yet, therein lies what I’d like to express: Mum and Dad have encouraged me in everything I’ve ever done. I’ve never felt that anything was impossible, and without them I could never have dreamed of achieving my Doctorate, or of moving away to London to experience life there.
I’d like to think this goes both ways. Why else would Mum and Dad have seen so many Manic Street Preachers concerts? As I said, they’re friends as well as family, and we’re all going to do all we can to get our family back together and back to normal.
I need to remember that all of this hasn’t been easy on my brother, Daniel, either. He is the sweetest and funniest brother anyone could ever have and I hope he enjoys himself this evening too.
Before I finish, a few thank-yous. Many of us here recently heard the amazing news that Jim and Laura are expecting a baby - we’re all delighted for you, and I do hope McRae Junior will get to spend some time learning from his weird Northern uncle. Jim’s been there for me a lot in recent weeks, so I’d like to thank him. I hope I’ll be able to pay him back by helping out with the baby in the coming months.
Thanks especially to Catherine for helping with the Hen-do and for making this room look so wonderful, and thanks to Charlotte’s Nan for arranging the flowers in the church. Thanks to Jim and to Bobby for reading so beautifully in church. Thanks to my most handsome and erudite friend Simon, who I know has put a lot of thought into his DJ set tonight. As long as he plays some Bee Gees, I’ll be happy. Finally thanks to Andy and my brilliant brother, Dan, for being a comedy double-act masquerading as ushers. When Andy told his girlfriend Sarah that I was writing this speech, she set she thought she’d probably cry. He said: ‘It might not be that bad.’
Thanks to every single one of you here for making our day so special.
I’d like to leave you now with an old Harborian folk poem, called ‘Because’
Because you change the channel at the sound of the Hollyoaks theme,
Because you explain, in detail, your weird and wonderful dreams,
Because you sing along, in the car, to Tenacious D,
Because your ‘thing’ for Patrick Stewart doesn’t bother me...
Because you read Ulysses in the bath,
Because 99% of the time you’re just having a laugh,
Because you’re the greatest teacher I’ve ever met,
But your spelling and grammar make me a little upset,
Because you claim my greatest gift was one I got for free:
A crafty ginger cat that complains constantly,
Because you indulge silly hairstyles, silly songs, silly clothes,
Because what you see in me, Charlotte, God only knows,
Because you make packed-lunches and wedding cake,
Because your favourite film’s ‘Labyrinth’ for goodness sake!
But you’re quite content with a Blue Planet DVD
And your ‘thing’ for David Attenborough doesn’t really bother me (it does)
Because girlfriends are great, but best friends are rare,
Because I can’t imagine coming home without finding you there,
Because I want to be with you for the rest of my life,
And it makes me so proud to call you my wife.
19/06/09
“Isn’t it lovely, when the dawn brings the dew, I’ll be watching over you.”
Many people today will use phrases like “it’s not fair” or “Julie was too young” and of course in one sense they’re right. At only 55, Mum had so much more to give and one of the most heartbreaking aspects of her passing, for me personally, is the fact that if Charlotte and I are lucky enough to have children, they’ll have been deprived of surely the greatest Grandma the world has ever known...
But in another sense I don’t feel it was too early and I’ll try to explain why. Most of us in this room will occasionally have a good day: a day where we do something particularly generous or kind, where we touch someone and make them feel special. As I said, this is occasional. Speaking personally, if I do something nice for someone, it could be a matter of weeks before I feel compelled to do anything else!
But Mum wasn’t like that. She was humble and selfless and loving every single day of her life. Yes, in physical terms 55 is too young, but if you measured time in terms of love shared, Mum gave us a hundred years at least.
So try not to be bitter today. Mum gave us all something special and we should use this day to thank her and have a nice time in her honour - there wasn’t a bitter bone in her body.
“Night night, sleep tight, don’t let the bed bugs bite.”
There are several people I know Mum would like me to thank and if I’ve forgotten anyone please forgive me. Firstly, this church, first lead by Malcolm and now Nick and the dozens of wonderful friends Mum made here. It gives me such comfort to know that Mum found the right community here in which to share her gifts: like Mum, they are selfless, humble and loyal people who found purpose and salvation through faith. I know it was her time spent here learning and, of course, teaching the little ones, that gave her the strength to endure those difficult final weeks.
I’d also like to thank Grandma and Mum’s sisters and brother. I really can’t imagine how any of us would have coped without you. As sisters you all have a very special bond that goes beyond mere words, each sister has different attributes and when they’re brought together can be a quite formidable force that can achieve anything. Mum is proud of you all and I’ll say simply, on behalf of Dad and Daniel: ‘thank you’.
Which brings me to Dad. I’m sure a couple of years ago, none of us here would have had him down, particularly, as a nurse or carer. He certainly doesn’t look like Florence Nightingale. Yet such is his love for Mum, that he grew into the role to become the most gentle, thoughtful and caring nurse anyone could wish to have. Several health workers who visited Mum commented to me that it was the cleanest, most organised home they’d ever visited. Not only did Dad care for Mum, he was also determined to maintain her high standards, such was his pride in her and in their partnership. It wasn’t until the later stages of Mum’s illness that any of us really appreciated how much he was doing - for your superhuman effort, Dad, thank you.
“I stare at the sky and it leaves me blind. I close my eyes and this is yesterday.”
As her sons, I think it’s fair to say that Daniel and I saw a different side to Mum. We introduced her to new music, comedy, books and new ideas and we’d challenge her sometimes and Mum was always up for that challenge. I’m sure I speak for Daniel too when I say that the phrase ‘generation gap’ was always quite alien to us: if I was desperate for my favourite band’s new single to get to number one, Mum would be shouting at the radio with me. If Tottenham scored a late equaliser, Dan could be sure to get a text message from Mum: ‘nice one, Keano!’ The Mum we know is a sharp, intelligent and articulate woman, who always made us feel that we could achieve anything.
The most important element in the relationship between all four of us at home is humour and I know Mum would have appreciated the fact that, even in her final days, we were sharing jokes and laughs around her bed. Mum would have also appreciated the fact that, even when she’d gone, she managed to unwittingly play a joke on me. Let me explain:
When Mum’s illness was first diagnosed I bought her a journal and decorated it with pictures of her favourite comedy characters to cheer her up. The idea was that she should make regular notes about her condition, to keep track of her symptoms and appointments etc. So a few days ago, knowing I had to make this speech, I quickly flicked through this journal, in case Mum had left a message or note she wanted to be shared. Sadly there wasn’t anything particularly relevant to today, but at the bottom of several entries were two words: ‘feel hurt’. As you can imagine, this broke my heart - Mum feels hurt - but something wasn’t quite right about it. That phrase ‘feel hurt’ just didn’t sound like Mum, it was too Americanised, too dramatic. But sure enough, at the bottom of the page on most days ‘feel hurt’. I couldn’t read any more, it was too horrible. This really nagged at me, so I returned to the journal a few days later and eventually all became clear. It seems Mum had a habit of ‘crossing her ‘t’s’ very lightly. In fact, at the end of every day she’d noted feet hurt,
feet hurt!
I’m sure she had a good laugh at that one.
“Wish me some luck as you wave goodbye to me. You’re the best friend I ever had.”
I’m going to let Mum have the final say in this speech. I’m really proud of the fact that she was such an eloquent and creative person and this is a poem she had published in 1992 called ‘The Allotment’. In the final lines you’ll notice that Mum makes a wish and I’d like to think that, wherever she is right now, that wish has come true:
The AllotmentMy very favourite place to be
on a lovely sunny day,
is where the butterflies float free,
and cabbages decay.
Smell the smouldering bonfire smoke,
with rotting compost heap,
the gentle pace of country folk,
who chat and nod to sleep.
The quiet seclusion of make-shift hut,
Tin roof and propped up doors,
half-full well worn water butt
with sacks of onion stores.
Birds scared off by milk bottle tops
rustling in the breeze
straight, proud rows of healthy crops
carrots, lettuce, peas.
Spade and forks, small flower pots
slow maturing marrow
wallflowers and forget-me-nots
broken wobbly barrow.
I love allotments, always will,
Everything's home grown
All that lovely earth to fill;
One day I'll have my own
Julie Watts
