John (written March 2017)

Being with George

Reflecting on times shared with Dad, these were times which I valued, probably because he worked long hours with limited holidays so the times we actually spent together became special.

Early memories go straight to family holidays and the week-long sojourns we spent at Fleetwood – always at Osborne House, immediately opposite Fleetwood Pier. I remember good weather and sea air and especially spending the whole week with Dad. These were the holidays of my time at primary school and latterly we ventured further afield to the Isle of Man and Morecambe but as we children grew into teenagers, family holidays fell behind us as we went off on school holidays, amongst which Paul and I, in turn, went youth hostelling to the lake District and Elaine on a French Exchange visit. It wasn’t long before we were organising our own holidays and Mum and Dad were happy to see me going on holiday with pals.

During the 50s and early 60s Dad cycled regularly to and from Leyland Motors, initially at Leyland and then at the Grime Street works in Chorley. There were many times that I would walk down to the junction of the A6 and Mill Lane to meet him and we would walk together back up home on Hillside Crescent. Eventually, in 1961, Dad purchased new bicycles for Paul and me. For Paul, riding a bike was a skill to be acquired but I had already learned the basics riding on a friend’s small bike on the soft grass of Whittle Cricket Club. A bike was a passport to adventures and as a utility and Dad knew this well.

George and Alice with their three teenagers, September 1965

When Granddad Tustin died in January 1966 Dad, Paul and I cleared the house together and we used our bicycles to ferry some of the contents back home. There was, however, much stuff to be burned on a bonfire in the garden, a process I followed 40 years later at Hillside Crescent. Going through all the cupboards and drawers of a family dating back to the Victorian era presented its surprises but opening a tobacco tin to discover Granny Tustin’s false teeth was something I never forgot. Finding a leather truss called for an explanation and just opening the door under the stairs made the hair bristle and eyes open wide. Remnants of Granddad’s WWI uniform including helmet and leather webbing were still hanging on a coat hook.

Dad was always supportive of his children doing things and he was certainly happy for Paul and me to take part-time work to supplement our pocket money and develop independence. In due course, I used much of the money I earned from the grocery delivery rounds to finance driving lessons. This hard earned cash didn’t go far but did get me up to taking my driving test (three times unsuccessfully.) In 1968 Dad purchased a new Triumph Herald in time to take me off to college at Matlock with my trunk and other baggage.

Dad was generous with his new car and was happy for me to complete my driving practice and successful test in “LTB 721F” on my return home at the end of my first term. He was also happy for me to teach Paul to drive and to use the car when it wasn’t otherwise needed. Dad hired a lock-up garage near Mount Pleasant, on Chorley Old Road – a five minute walk from our house and Dad was happy for me to put the car away and bring it back to the house as required when I was home. Eventually, the Herald became Paul’s and Dad purchased other new cars, my favourite being the Triumph 1500. When my car was it the garage for repair, Dad would lend me his Triumph, which I loved to drive; better than my own mini.

As I grew up and returned home to work, teaching in Farnworth then Bolton, Dad was very tolerant but we did reach the point in 1977 when he said that I should decide if I was living there or not. From Easter 1977 I flew the nest and never slept at the family home again.

There were things on which we connected; I joined the Territorial Army at the age of 22 and after attestation I was kitted out. I remember sitting on the living room floor, piecing together my 38 pattern webbing with Dad’s valuable assistance. In fact, Dad watched me with interest as I settled into The Duke of Lancaster’s Own Yeomanry, going off for weekend training and annual camps, developing the essential skills of an Armoured Corps soldier. I am sure he was pleased to see me progressing, gaining my commission at the Royal Military Academy Sandhurst and eventually gaining my appointment as Commanding Officer at Manchester & Salford Universities Officer Training Corps as a Lieutenant Colonel – another significant step up for the family military history. The card of congratulations which Dad sent me on my final promotion was deposited with my archives in the Museum of Lancashire.

I am sure it was a relief to see me leave the family home. Twelve months later Diane became his daughter-in-law and a new Mrs Tustin. Eventually I did hear Dad say to Diane, “it seems like we have known you all our lives;” a compliment indeed!

Dad retired from Leyland Motors when he was 63 to care for Mum who was gradually deteriorating with MS and after Mum had passed away in 1993 Dad and I began to see more of each other. Diane & I included Dad on trips out and we shared some special times together.

George and daughter-in-law, Diane on a "day out."

'Orme Sight' Beacon Fell, near Chipping, Forest Of Bowland AONB, Lancashire, UK

Sometimes Dad, Irene, Elsie and Paul would come round and join us for tea or even Christmas lunch. Dad, Diane & I were all equally confused when we saw a war memorial in Downham. It became clear when we realised that Downham had been used as the set in a TV series (and the war memorial was a papier-mâché prop.)

Dad was generally quite independent well into his 80s, but just needing a little help and advice from time to time. He never shied away from modern technology, and, although not having a computer himself, he was quite handy at emailing and viewing his bank account through his TV using his wireless key board. Indeed, his ASDA shopping list became a regular arrival in my email inbox. Sometimes Diane or I would do his shopping, but often he could be encouraged to come with us. ASDA at Clayton Green was his regular supermarket shop. Although he was focussed while taking his trolley through the aisles, I learned not to be surprised when blanked as we passed. We did need to watch for the rain starting if we were on our ways back to the car as Dad was quite likely to abandon his trolley and sit in the car while we were left to catch his trolley and secure all the goods in the car. It was quite funny really.

In January 2006, it quickly became clear that all was not well with Dad. Noticing mouldy bread and used tea bags on the draining board, confirmed to me that Dad was not coping and intervention was needed. Liaising with Dad’s GP, a former pupil of mine, Dad was admitted to Chorley hospital where he spent the next 6 weeks. The letter I received from Dad’s consultant haematologist paints a detailed picture of his condition. When released from hospital Dad lasted just one night back home, but he was disorientated and at short notice, a place was found for him at Highcliffe Rest Home, in the village. His stay there was interrupted with return visits to the hospital and had only lasted barely 6 weeks when he passed away.

Clearing his room, registering his death and arranging the funeral all went fairly smoothly. Although, not quite making 90 years, his exit from this world was all done in 6 weeks and from leaving Hillside Crescent he had been well looked after. George now rests less than a mile from where he was born and by the side of the love of his life, Alice.

The division of George’s estate, according to his will, was fairly straight forward once Diane had sorted out the cubic metre of paper and, with the agreement of Paul and Elaine, I secured probate. The council house which George and Alice entered in early 1948 sold relatively easily for the asking price and with the payment of the inheritance tax, the division of the estate unfolded. Discussing with the vicar, the essence of George’s life in preparation for a eulogy at the funeral proved quite cathartic and if he could read the words in this last chapter of his website I suspect he would look on kindly and smile – “it is what it is.”

John Tustin (second son)

16^th March 2017

Advance to Tamsin (written March 2017)