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How do I write a memory of ‘My Al’? - that’s a hard one.
Allan married my sister the year I was born so I have never known a world without his love.
Having lost his Mum at an early age, he immediately became another son to my Mum and she adored him as he did her. I became his practice child. Allan was the person rocking and singing to a baby with colic every night for nearly 2 years; our bond was secured .Growing up as much a part of his family as my own, he was always teaching me. Sundays were spent exploring the Kent countryside where we shared a deep love and respect for nature. The hedgerows, fields, the seasons became part of our shared life. Spring bluebells or Autumn conkers we loved it all. Special days meant a seaside visit. Allan was a great sketcher and as I grew up, he encouraged me to join him with pencil and pad. One such afternoon just before leaving England, we sat in a spring sunshine, Stonehenge in the background, pencil in hand, we talked about leaving England, what we would miss and the excitement of a new life in Canada. Allan taught me to love making crafts and hours we spent with glue and glitter at the kitchen table in December! He had such a love for wood and made so many lovely pieces for us all. Happiness was ‘ a lump of wood’ and a project. You would have laughed to see his little car full of wood sticking out the windows with Jeans hand holding them steady and a red flag waving like an Arsenal banner. My home is full of tables, trays, boxes, birdhouses, all made lovingly by Al.
In Canada, our weekends would be spent camping in the Rockies with John Denver playing on the, dare I say it, cassette! Al soon became a dab hand at the art of the Bar B Q. Long weekends we would drive to Mara Lake and connect our camping spots with tarps as we nearly always arrived in the rain.
In the last 30 years of my living in BC, Allan and Jean have visited with us once, twice or thrice each year. We have had so many happy times, so many adventures, so many trips making more memories than we can count. Every summer by the Shuswap Lake, Big Al was in charge of the BBQ while we lined up tables and invited whoever needed feeding. We call this our Darling Buds of May dinner. Coming from the H.E. Bates book where meals were eaten in the Kentish orchards with everybody welcome. We blended two cultures. He loved a good ‘nosh up’ and we spent many happy hours finding new restaurants, having picnics, or a concocting a ‘full english’ breakfast. Allan always arrived for his holiday with his work clothes packed knowing Brad and him would have a project. Be it new decks, garden shed, or cleaning up after a flood, Al got stuck in. By the way, Allan’s work clothes looked like our best ones! Allan was always a dapper dresser; shirts crisply ironed by Jean, a waistcoat and his beloved hat he would throw on working gloves and say he was ready! Relaxing meant his Arsenal kit on with a glass in hand, sitting in the shade. He always said he had had enough of the sun when he was conscripted into the Army and sent to Egypt.
‘My Allan’ - the person in my corner, on my side, had my back. Loved me for who I am, with all the warts, and never tried to change me. The gentle, kind, funny, polite, loving, beautifully attired, gentlemen that loved my sons as grandchildren and taught them well - they all aspire to be like Allan, but know its a tall order as he was a one-off. My Allan - the man who talked my Dad into giving me pocket money; who made sure Dad got me a Christmas tree even though we weren’t going to be home that year; fought over the bill with me at every restaurant; the reason I still use rhyming slang in my vocabulary; why I cheer for Arsenal; the man that never left without huge hug and reminding me always I was ‘his girl’.
So I think you will agree, Brother in Law doesn’t begin to describe my relationship with Allan: He has left a big heart hole in many of us but I am so lucky to have lived my life with Allan in my corner and I know that’s where he will stay. Whether you call him My Al, Our Allan, Uncle Allan, Dad, Big Al or Mr. Andrews I ask you to raise a glass (yes Al, it’s Stella Artois) and say, with me our favourite toast “Happy Holidays”. Forever LOVED by your girl.
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