Sorry to hear of your great loss Lisa .. *Big hugs* You must be amazed and proud of his exploits at the steelworks.. he was obviously a guy people could rely on when the going got tough and a great dad.. Well done Tony a life well lived.. Nb... You're "probably " not as funny as him..
We always had friendly competition over who was funnier. Obviously I always won Whenever we spoke on the phone and the conversation was nearing the end he’d say ‘anyway you’re boring me now, bye’. This became the new competition to see who could say it fastest and hang up first! He was crackers
I'm sorry to hear about your bad news Lisa. Your Dad sounds like he was a true legend. I worked in the steelworks for 50 years, Sheffield not Scunny, and have a good idea what kind of work he did. He was the man you would want at the side of you (or even in font of you) when things got messy, lots of people would be busy going the other way ! I'm sure he was a great Dad too. Bye the way.....not all steelworkers have hairy arses.....only most of us! Take care .
A true superstar human dad. We need these kind of people to touch our lives however long we have them. They show us what lifes real wourth is about. Sent from my SM-T585 using Tapatalk
haha, I think the hairy-arsed bit is a hangover from my Plymouth days and always hearing about hairy-arsed fishermen! Yes, in Scunny it turns out that everyone knows of 'the panzer gang' and dad was one of the original members. while he was in intensive care it was limited visitors, understandably, but a number of chaps rocked up and waited patiently just on the off chance they could see dad. they were also the original members of the 'panzer gang' - this wasn't an official title but one given by the others on the works to the chaps who would go in and sort the worst stuff out. apparently their operations were 'balletic' despite limited visual or verbal communication - they worked instinctively together. When Tata took over they tried to formalise the Panzers work to train others but they weren't able to because it was born out of experience, brotherhood and instinct. dad was the last remaining original Panzer still working at the steelworks. A good dad? hell yes! he drove me crazy, was waaaay too protective despite my advancing years, always made me laugh and was always there to pull me out of a hole - particularly ones where I'd bought 'projects' such as old VW's or old houses. I am and will be lost without him x
Sorry for your loss, although no real condolence, the memories must be amazing ones I’m not a believer in all this karma lark, but if it helps you in any slight way, the day after you lost your dad, I got mine back. He’d been diagnosed with the big C and given a finite time but told they’d try chemo and radio to see if it could work as there was a slim chance. 4 months of pretty intense sessions and he had his consultancy on 9th January and was told the scans showed nothing. Not a thing. He’s on 3 monthly scans for the next year to monitor it and then up to 6 monthly for a bit to see how things are going. I’m lucky to still have mine and I can’t begin to think about what it’d be like without him. i hope you and yours can smile when you think of your old man
I really hope everything goes as well as it can tomorrow Lisa. I'll play an Elvis song on the show tonight and dedicate to your Lovely Dad x (if there is a specific one let me know) I'm pretty sure that a hell of a lot of TLB will be thinking of you tomorrow. Big
Been putting off my reply for ages as I know you worshipped your dad and be heartbroken. There'll be stories galore from his old colleagues at t'steelworks and it's fabulous he was held in such high esteem , they'll be happy to share tales and laugh through the tears . You can take comfort in the fact your dad was a true legend , hang onto that . Take care lady Lisa , I'll be around this weekend if you fancy a beer - just drop me a text ... Sent from my SM-G960F using Tapatalk
When you pass dads ride on the motorway. I hope they clean it when they get there. Cadillac not Chevy
When you pass dads ride on the motorway. I hope they clean it when they get there. Cadillac not Chevy View attachment 85785
Reading this thread while travelling home up the aire valley by train. Getting very funny looks from the other passengers as I started to well up at reading the first post and then smirk and snigger as I read the stories and anecdotes. Sounds an amazing bloke, my thoughts are with you and your family.....stay strong.
Hone now. A little bit fuzzy and drunk and still heady from all the love today. The cortège headed by the Cadillac was massive but the gathering at the crematorium was even bigger. I managed a brief, snot filled eulogy and there was even room for last minute practical joke payback. The love in the room was immense and the outpouring unbelievable. I’ve cried a river, bursted with pride and drunk far too much (so many toasts to dad!) and been hugged by a lot of strange blokes! and still I can’t quite believe he’s gone. but for now I sleep and will awake on yet another part of this unfamiliar, unwanted rollercoaster ride x
thank you to all for your lovely messages - I haven’t been able to respond to all for various reasons and am only now just catching up with them x. It’s been hell. It’s been chaotic and it’s been lovely connecting with so many people who also loved Dad. Only a few days ago we realised that the white fleetwood Cadillac was the same model as the one used for Elvis! We chose it because dad liked old yank cars. How did I not know this before?! We took photos. No idea if this is the done thing but we agreed that we would, they could always be deleted afterwards, bizarrely they have been a comfort as I have little recollection of that day. No, not due to alcohol - that came later! Dads final journey past the blast furnaces he worked so hard to keep going We wore Elvis shades, as did the pall bearers. Perfect for hiding our tears. We had requested family flowers only and donations to Scunthorpe Intensive Care Unit instead. His work family are continuing to raise money and sent this too There was a request on Thursday for a last practical joke. Of course we agreed. at the very end of the service the celebrant read this written by dads boss; ‘oh, one more thing...’ in true columbo style ‘...for those of you that weren’t lucky enough to work with Tony, as if we didn’t know by now, he loved a practical joke! One of his favourites was to stick objects on to peoples safety helmets using grease, the most common being an empty Plastic cup, he did this to anyone and everyone from new starters to very, very senior staff or visitors! All at some point walking round unwittingly with an empty cup or fag packet stuck to the top of their helmet with everyone laughing knowing who exactly who had put it there (which was quite a feat for the shortest man in the gang!) So before we say our goodbyes, I would like to invite Shaun up to exact a final revenge on behalf of all Tony’s victims over the years!’ Shaun was another original member of the Panzer Gang with dad. He placed the plastic cup on dads coffin and broke down but through the tears there was laughter and a tremendous round of applause. For a lot of people it was standing room only at the service and the love, memories and sadness all exploded at that final moment. The wake was to be a celebration of his life with a projector screen of photos and a soundtrack of his favourite music. It was a huge ‘do’ with lots of wonderful tales shared, laughter and tears. An old chap (older than dad) invited me to touch his cheek just under his eye to ‘feel the pellet still lodged under his skin where dad had shot him when they were kids playing cowboys and Indians in the woods with real pellet guns!’ Dad carried similar scars through his life. Another chap showed me the scorpion belt buckle dad had made him. While working in Algiers Dad would catch and preserve (in whisky) scorpions he found in his cabin and set them in resin for belt buckles when he came home. I had mine with me that day too One chap who came first ‘met’ Dad at school when dad ‘knocked him out’! As a bit of a shortarse, but a very good boxer, Dad would sort out anyone picking on his friends or family. They remained lifelong friends after that. A few photos emerged of dad in his poclain doing the impossible- I need to get copies of these. This one we’d never seen before of dad as a young cadet The venue had only one hand pull ale on that night - doombar! It was a sign. Needless to say I indulged much to the surprise of some ‘Tony’s lass drinks pints!’ could be heard ringing out with incredulity. That’s scunny steelworkers for you! There would have been trouble if anyone had brought me ‘a ladies half’, even dad knew better than that! I’ve had a rotten cold since Saturday, I did think it was just a doombar hangover, sadly not, but a welcomed visit and a boot full of southern hugs helped. Now conversations are turning to having memorial plaque/s cast with Scunthorpe ‘pourings’ (I think this is the molten metal term) but as Scunthorpe steelworks is for the big stuff like railway lines etc this is being looked in to. I hope they can as I would like one too but it may have to be cast from sand (? It’s another world). we’d need to sort out a design so I’ll probably discuss with a few artist friends as everyone has ideas but they need to be coherent and made into a form. He meant so much to so many in so many different ways, it’s not going to be easy x Here’s one of dad last year having a pee behind the sea wall while fishing. My lovely Dad x
What a superb service. Especially the floral Brycreem. It’ll give you such strength in years to come. But of course in a way it all underlines the magnitude of your loss too. Hope you get through these unreal early weeks ok. I lost my hero dad too and it does get easier, I promise.
yes, 'unreal', that's exactly it. so very unreal and yet overwhelmingly real too. I had lots of advice about getting through the funeral and a couple of rules set for myself; First rule: Don't focus on 'the box' he's not there. focus on the words and the love in the room for him, that's where he is now So bloody true! I'd wanted to read a poem and to say a few words as I would never get another chance. I really didn't think I'd be able to, but the above helped me and echoed the poem I'd chosen. Though when I stood at the lectern and looked up to see the absolute mass of people, I buckled - having a big, strong nephew nearby would be my top tip. Some actor friends had told me to keep practicing the poem and my speech to 'desensitise' before the main event. I can honestly say that this was bullMarmite and doesn't work. Second advice/rule: Don't get too pi**ed at the wake as you'll want to remember the lovely stories and kind words. Define 'too pi**ed'? Rules, schmules I did remember the stories, some people wrote them in a memory book too and some were told to other family members which we've shared with each other since. Phew. Id also had bugger all food and far too much alcohol by the end of the night (yes, it carried on into the wee small hours) and suffered somewhat on Saturday but @CollyP convinced me that a hair of the dog by a roaring fire was the necessary course of action along with watching some rubbish on tv
Great to hear your stories of your dad - they will become memories that you will never forget - and so he will always be with you . My Dad died when I was 17 - 58 years ago next week - and he is never forgotten and always near me
Have literally just had a message to say that a memorial casting for dad ‘with the queens iron’ looks like it’ll be ok to go ahead. ‘The Queens’ are the four blast furnaces all named after queens; Anne, Bess, Victoria and Mary. Only fair they’ll be providing for the ‘blast furnace king’ x
my rushed, snot-filled, mumbled words were to say just this. how he'll be with us all in the skills he taught us, the daft jokes we'll re-tell and the memories we'll share. This is the poem I mostly sniffled through x Do not stand at my grave and weep, I am not there, I do not sleep. I am a thousand winds that blow. I am the diamond glint on snow. I am the sunlight on ripened grain. I am the gentle autumn rain. When you wake in the morning hush, I am the swift, uplifting rush Of quiet birds in circling flight. I am the soft starlight at night. Do not stand at my grave and weep. I am not there, I do not sleep. (Do not stand at my grave and cry. I am not there, I did not die!)
