Derek
Here is a bit of Original Derek.
These are the opening lines of a little unpublished short
story he wrote a year ago.
It is called The Gate In the Fence
“I don’t know who first put the gate there, the gate in the
fence that is, but it son felt as though it had always been there. There was no
razzmatazz, no one made a big thing of it – there was no jokey little ceremony,
for example – but instead it seemed the most obvious thing in the world to have
a little opening through which we could, if we wished, go next door without
making a fuss.”
This little tale was a delightful present given to Mike and
me for our wedding anniversary last year. We had been semi-detached neighbours with
Derek here in Hampton Hill for 22 years. The story is about the little gate we
had installed in the fence between our back gardens. Well I say it was about the
gate, but Derek was master of the metaphor and it is really about
neighbourliness, problems shared and resolved.
You can imagine how touched we were to receive it. It was beautifully expressed, imaginative, thoughtful and
very loving. In fact it was Derek to the core.
I remember clearly the first time we met Derek. It was
February 1980 Mike and I were about to move to St James’s Avenue with our two
young children, Katie, and Stephen, The owner of the house we were buying kindly
invited us round to meet our new neighbours. Derek was with there with his wife
Kip. He was leaning against the mantelpiece – tall, very good looking, urbane
and 40 – seriously grown up. I was most impressed. I don’t think it is possible
to talk about Derek without mentioning his lovely physical presence.
But more importantly, Mike and I were delighted to learn
that that Kip and Derek had 3 young children Claire, Tim and Baby Sophie in a
similar age group to ours.
There were always fun creative things going on next-door –dressing
up, painting, camping, excursions, and there were legendary Guy Fawkes parties
with a bonfire on the grass. Our combined children were soon great pals and coming
and going between the houses constantly. Eventually it was decided that it
would make things a lot easier if we had that little gate put in the fence near
the bottom of the garden It proved to be a great investment - that gate was much used throughout the
years –by the children and the adults too. Happy times.
But towards the end of 1983 Kip became ill and died within a
few months. It was a shocking time and Derek was devastated. He faced the
daunting prospect of bringing up his 3 young children single handed There was a
lot of support on offer of course- Derek and Kip had lots of friends and there
was a good community spirit in the avenue but it was a dreadfully hard time for
Derek. The responsibility and worry were relentless. The little gate was quite
important then. In the end Derek did a
marvellous job in raising his three kids but equally Claire, Tim and Sophie did
a wonderful job in looking after their father.
After about 5 years Jenny arrived on the scene. I remember
the day of their first meeting. Derek came bounding through the little gate to
tell me all about it.
“She’s absolutely gorgeous “ he enthused. “Like a model and
she’s intelligent and she’s got a lovely personality too”.
And from then on Derek’s spirit seemed to lighten. And when in
October 1993 they tied the knot here in this church he was positively beaming. The marriage heralded some intense activity. With
Jenny came Katie and Morgan so now there were two families and 5 vibrant
teenagers at 39 St James’s Avenue. The house needed to be enlarged to
accommodate the expanded family. I remember this as the era of home extension, and
interior design. But it was more than this. I think marriage to Jenny helped
Derek find the direction and focus he had needed and also the confidence to try
out new things and take risks.
What was it I loved most about Derek? Well I would say his
way with words. Derek loved to chat but for him a conversation was more than
mere communication. It was an art form. Many of my happiest memories of Derek
involve chatting over a glass of wine and, almost always, with a bowl of salted
peanuts to hand, as he described some person, some event, in his perceptive,
original, amusing way. I can picture Derek now - eyes sparkling, smiling as he selected just
the right word or perfect metaphor or as he shaped a telling phrase. He was a
true wordsmith and it was a delight to talk to him.
And it wasn’t just
the spoken word he was a writer too, after marrying Jenny he produced three novels,
and wrote numerous articles and theatre reviews. He always said it was writing
that gave him the most pleasure.
In addition to his writing ability Derek had practical skills
and determination. He and Jenny made a marvellous team. This was evident when
we visited the there House in Witney. We
were overawed by what they had achieved in the huge garden sweeping down to the
river. There was the dry stone walling,
massive new borders, patios and terraces.
We didn’t realise that this was just a gentle introduction to the big
one les Rivieres, their next lovely home in the Dordogne. Derek told me he
tried to keep to a routine. Writing in the morning and in the afternoon he was
out and about chopping down trees, logging, clearing lakes, cutting acres of grass. I think the combination of land and nature to
be tamed and peace to write was heaven for Derek.
And then since Derek’s cancer was diagnosed life became
increasingly difficult and restricted. But Derek whom I always thought of a
worrier became calmer, sweeter and more accepting. Whenever we met, or spoke on
the phone, I was very impressed by how positive and uncomplaining he seemed. If
he talked about his troubles it was usually to gently joke about it. I don’t know how he managed it but I assume
Jenny’s support and care must have a lot to do with it.
Derek was just naturally endearing. He had an open almost
child like quality about him. He always seemed just so slightly bemused by life
this was really apparent when he talked about his children which he did quite
often. He would enthusiastically describe how wonderful they were, not, I hasten
to add in a boastful way but as if to share his amazement and utter delight -as
if he couldn’t believe things had turned out so well.
He was a lovely man, a true gentleman. Quite simply the best
neighbour one could wish for.
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