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I have so many memories of happy holidays in York and spent a lovely day in Cheltenham with Dennis when I was visiting friends in Bristol many years ago. I  was just talking about this recently, remembering the huge room filled with wardrobe-size machines all calculating furiously and how Dennis told me later that a simple pocket calculator could now perform all that work. Jean Anderson

You (Sally) and Dennis made us so welcome in your house and in showing us around the park that we still remember your kindness. Gus & Helen Edwards

Dennis was "Best Man" at our wedding in 1957, visited us when we lived on Orkney and has continued to visit us regularly over the years, so we were perhaps particularly sorry to hear the sad news. Sid & Ev Robson

Dennis was the first of our family to go to university and my mother was determined that Colin & I (Peter) should match that! Sylvia & Peter Snowdon

We have so many happy memories of Uncle Dennis - he was 'one of a kind' Val & Dave Garland

Dennis remembered by his relatives

After his daughters wedding

br:- son Matthew; Dennis; daughter Sylvia Wright; sister Margaret Buskwood; great-neice Alex Buskwood. fr: wife Sally, son in law Steve Wright,; grandson Marcus Wright.

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My Dad


My dad was born in York,

There he learned to walk and talk,

Mum and dad were really smart,

They went to Leeds University 13 years apart,


At M.I.T dad completed his Ph.D.,

So the States he did see,

At Sheffield University they did meet,

Maybe he thought she was rather sweet.


However he was a little bit slow,

In letting his emotions show,

But eventually they went out,

After many dates there was no doubt.


He knew Sally would be his future wife,

Who he’d love for the rest of his life,

On holiday they climbed up Cheviot Hill

And on their way up they ate their fill


Those Bilberries must have gone to my dad’s head,

Because at the top, “Marry me” he said,

They bought a house on The Fairway,

My mum still thinks it was a wonderful day.


Dad lectured in Mechanical and Process Engineering,

But he was not at all God fearing,

He went to his church every Sunday,

Where with the congregation he did pray.


The God he knew was warm and kind,

The kind of God I’d love to find,

And going to church he never neglected,

By everyone he was well respected.


He was teetotal, he didn’t drink,

His mind always clear and able to think,

Nobody saw my dad getting pissed,

My dad was a true Methodist.


My dad practiced Christianity in the way he did live,

He always seemed to have something to give,

With him you never seemed to be judged,

But from his morals he never budged.


Dad took older people to church in his car,

Because otherwise for them it was too far,

He took Mr & Mrs Hartley and Mrs Twaddle,

It meant the world to them, for him it was a doddle.


Dad seemed to know everyone in town,

Yes they knew him, Dennis Brown,

Dad was heavily involved with Labour,

Vote for someone else, do me a favour.


In Hallam he stood as the candidate,

But the vote he got was never that great,

As a result he never did win,

But he lost with a smile and a grin.


My mum lectured in Russian in the Arts Tower,

As kids we went there for the odd hour,

The lifts were unusual as they had no doors,

You had to jump off, they didn’t stop at floors.


The first child born to them was a son,

Then 2 years later was born more fun,

This was a girl, which was me,

Who completed our family.


No that’s not true, that’s not reyt,

Because something happened when I was 8,

We got a black and white cat we called Jim,

Whose life in Somerset did begin.


My grandparents brought him up to The Fairway,

Where from then on, he did stay,

My dad was a real gent,

And was careful with the money he spent.


We weren’t super rich, but we never went without,

I had great parents, there is no doubt,

Dad never swore, he just said “blurge baggers”,

Even when telling us off, his finger all a waggers.


Dad took me to athletics, orchestra and choir,

A lot of time this did require,

My dad was usually very humble,

But at Wednesday matches he did grumble.


Sometimes dad bought a quarter of sweets,

For me these were lovely treats,

For him Sherbet Lemons, for mum Pear Drops,

For these were the sweets they liked lots.


My mum loves a dark chocolate bounty bar,

She thinks they are the best by far,

One time we went cycling as a family,

And many sites we did see.


We went to Scarborough, Whitby and Boggle Hole,

Doing this trip was rather bold,

Especially after dad toppled down a bank,

When I saw that my heart really sank.


Thankfully he got up, there was nothing wrong,

So we were able to keep cycling on,

On holidays and walks for energy’s sake,

Mum would give us Kendal mint cake.


It helped us get up cliff and hill,

But following mum was still quite a skill,

I asked for Mental Kink Cake when being daft,

In the middle of nowhere we always laughed.


In sunshine, I would get a tan,

So of hot sun I was a fan,

But dad ‘Mr Brown’ turned bright red,

So in the shade he stayed instead.


My mum is vegetarian, so no meat was dad fed,

If he missed meat, he never complained or said,

As he didn’t make mum prepare him meat,

Instead it became an occasional treat.


My mum’s favourite numbers are 7 and 3,

A love for these numbers she passed onto me,

My least favourite number was 42,

But dad brilliantly changed it to fortitude.


Now that number doesn’t bother me,

Anyway I’ll shortly be 43,

Dad was always on time he was never late,

His favourite number was 88.


Dad loved the Ying Tong song by The Goons,

He’d sing it like a kid with party balloons,

Ying tong diddle I po, Ying tong diddle I po,

That is how the silly song did go.


He loved Geordies and Northumberland,

He loved Alnmouth Beach with its sand,

He really loved the Cheviots and the sea,

So up there my mum, his ashes set free.


Sylvie Wright

June 2016

&

Through a poem by his Daughter, Sylvia

This poem can also be found on Sylvie’s website at www.livingwithms.co.uk/poems2.html