30217 Sunrises
Dad loved the bluebells.
In his final days, that’s where his mind seemed to go. There was something about them that felt like him. Quiet. Steady. Returning each year.
It feels right that we’ll walk there again in his memory.
On Saturday morning, after walking the dog surrounded by bluebells, I saw a job advert in a bakery in Marlborough. And it stopped me.
Because that’s how it all began for him. A young man seeing an opportunity, stepping into a bakery, and starting a journey that would take him further than anyone could have imagined.
That was Dad. He never chased attention. He just worked hard. Quietly. Properly. And with pride in what he did.
And it was through the Royal Navy that he met Mum. It started with a ha’penny.
They were both in the Navy then, finding their feet and living that structured life where everything had its place — except the moments that didn’t.
Mum worked as a writer, so she got paid a day earlier than most. It was a small thing, but in those days it mattered. It meant she might have a few coins in her pocket when others didn’t.
Dad noticed.
“Got a ha’penny I can borrow?”
Not because he needed it. Just his way in.
From there, it grew. Not with big moments, but with small ones. A drink in the Navy social club. Conversations that lasted a bit longer each time.
From that beginning, their life grew. Not just the two of them, but a family.
I was born, and soon after, Steven, while they were in Singapore. Steven was a bright, happy young boy, with a heart of gold.
And although his time was far too short, he stayed with us always.
I followed the tradition in the family of having children young, so we could enjoy life with them for longer.
Thomas, Nathan, and then Rebecca. The three grandchildren he was so proud of. Being a young grandad meant he could really be there. Watching them grow. Supporting them through life.
He saw Thomas and Nathan get married. Nathan marrying Sadie was a moment that meant a great deal to him.
Then came the next generation. Thomas and Minji had Aaron, and then Harriet. Both bright and intelligent, and he was incredibly proud of them.
They both had a very special place in his strong heart.
Rebecca and Luke had Leo. Always happy. Always smiling. A boy at heart, full of life.
And then Felix, just last year. Dad joked that he’d take Felix out for his first pint when he turned eighteen. He’d be one hundred by then.
It was said with a smile. But it said everything about him. Always looking ahead. Always wanting to be part of their lives for as long as he possibly could.
That simple life became something extraordinary.
Through the Royal Navy, through years of dedication, discipline and craft, he became one of the very best at what he did.
And then, one moment changed everything. He was asked to make the wedding cake for Prince Charles and Lady Diana.
He carried it all with quiet humility.
He loved his football too. Blackburn Rovers through everything. Loyal. Always.
I remember being a teenager and going to see Blackburn play Chelsea. I was asked to be a ball boy. Dad didn’t hesitate.
“Yes.”
Even though I could hardly kick a ball. That was Dad. Always backing me.
A week before the end, we sat together playing a Blackburn quiz. He was still sharp. And the question was: If Alan Shearer had stayed, would Blackburn have won another title?
“Of course,” he said.
On Saturday at one o’clock, he went to sleep. Mum messaged me. And I knew. It was time.
Everyone came. And what Dad had always wanted came true. His family around him.
After more than twenty-four hours, he opened his eyes. I stroked his face, and he smiled. The love in that moment was overwhelming.
That night, mum and I stayed with him. Holding him. Listening. Knowing.
At 6:45, he woke. He looked at me. I told him I loved him. I told him Steven was ready to see him.
He looked at Mum. She said, “Love you.” He said goodbye. He closed his eyes. And gently closed his mouth. As if to say his time had come.
His breathing stopped. And somehow… you just knew Steven was there.
His heart kept beating for another two hours. So strong.
At 11:10 on Monday 27th April 2026, he passed.
30217 sunrises.
And every year, when the bluebells return… we’ll walk there again.
And remember him.