Thank you for taking the time to read this tribute to my Dad.

Dad was born on April 20th 1934 and was blessed with 83 good years.

He was born in Belfast to Sarah who sadly did not long survive after his birth. Dad kept two treasures from that time: a blanket he was wrapped in when he was brought over to England which to this day is kept carefully at home and Sarah’s wedding ring which he gave to mum on their wedding day and she has worn every day since.

Dad was brought by his father, also called Hugh to his home in Salford where he was raised by Mary and Bill Cox. His father, after whom he was named, remarried and a few years later a younger, much loved brother David was born.

Dad was proud of his Salford upbringing. He often spoke fondly of those formative years in Hodge Lane, and around old Salford, clambering over old bomb sites and confessing to getting up to monkey business such as throwing stones, breaking windows and playing knock-a-door-run!

He laughed about his school years – Nitty Nora checking for lice, shaving heads and painting them purple. Mary wrapping toast for him to eat cold at breaktimes. Dad was delighted to be able to reunite with many of his school friends a few years back, especially Albert Armstrong who now lives way up in the Shetland Islands but also remembers those days fondly, writing poems and stories of their younger days for local history books and the two kept in touch right till the end.

In his teens and early twenties Dad suffered from TB and spent time in sanatoriums at Nabb Top and in Ladywell Hospital. During this period he befriended Don Davenport and they bonded over a mutual love of sport and trying to get one over the doctors and nurses. Despite being obviously poorly these two renegades would frequently escape the wards to go drinking in the nearest pubs. Don remained a good friend for the rest of his life, and they stood as best man at each other’s weddings. Together they were life-long supporters of Salford Rugby Club, and cheered their team on at many home games. When Don passed Dad lost his enthusiasm for going to matches, but never wavered in his support of his beloved team. Together he and I attended their final match at The Willows. Alas he never did manage to bring me on board as a supporter, though it wasn’t for want of trying!

Dad first worked at Burtons the Tailors where he met the love of his life: Joan, my mum. They married in July 1959. In their 58 years together Dad never wavered in his love for Mum. Indeed when I was looking through his things I found a card he had put aside for their next wedding anniversary which simply said “To my beautiful wife.”

Three years after the wedding I came along. Legend has it that when Dad first looked at me and saw my red hair he said “Oh bloody hell!” as his Dad had been a ginger!

Throughout their marriage Mum & Dad spent very little time apart.

They enjoyed day trips and going to folk concerts following artists such as Gary & Vera, The Spinners & The Houghton Weavers but ultimately were simply happy in each other’s company.

Dad loved his cars though they were not always in the best condition!

One of my earliest memories is of a trip to visit mum’s friend Pauline. I was kneeling looking out of the back window as Dad attempted to drive up a hill. We passed a rather large bolder that caught my eye. The next thing the same bolder was rushing back towards us: Dad had lost control of the car and hit the brakes only just in time to stop a catastrophic crash. Many years later he confessed he was driving without a licence as he hadn’t yet passed his test. (And I had thought my Dad was such a law-abiding citizen!)

We once followed Aunty Marjorie and Uncle Ernie down to Cornwall for a holiday but Dad couldn’t keep up with Ernie’s speed. Eventually Ernie had to slow down in the hope that we would catch up. The next time we saw Ernie’s car it was at the side of the road where he had been pulled over for going too slow. Dad & Marjorie often laughed about the look on Ernie’s face as we passed by! On the journey home from that same holiday we travelled through a rainstorm. That old banger was so rusty the rain got into the passenger compartment and Mum & I had to sit with our feet up as the inches deep water sloshed back & forth all the way home!

For a time Dad worked together with his friend Don at Hodgkinson Bennis and every year they would save up in the factory Christmas Club to send us kids to pantomimes, enjoy a Christmas party and get a special present from Santa.

Dad loved his annual summer holidays with Mum. They visited places all over the country in their (mostly) trusty old bangers (Dad once boasted he had to call out the AA at least once each holiday). In later years they even travelled abroad to places such as Spain, Malta and Greece and a trip to the Holy Land.

One thing he always loved to do was to visit historical sites, and this was one love he did pass on to me. He especially enjoyed visiting churches and cathedrals. When I was young he took me and his brother David up to Durham cathedral for a day trip. They spent the whole day there tramping up and down the aisles playfully arguing over something they had read on the tombstones.

All day.

I was the forgotten child following behind wishing fervently to escape to the shops to spend my pocket money, but by the time they had resolved whatever the argument was all the shops had shut and we had to come straight back home! If you go to Durham cathedral look for the track-marks in the stone floors where they walked!

Dad loved to cultivate the image of a penny-pinching miser, but the truth was quite different. He would drive miles out of his way to give someone a lift home. When I was very young and Mum worked at Burtons on a Saturday Dad would drive into Town to pick her up from work. He would always go early enough to have a little wander around the shops first. I often went along with him. As kids do I would usually ask for a toy. To this Dad would always say “no”. However if I showed any interest in a book, he would immediately buy it for me. I once said I enjoyed a piece of classical music I had heard at school. Dad sought out the composer and the next birthday bought me the album as a special extra present just from him. From an early age I loved cameras. Dad encouraged this and took me to a specialist shop to buy a camera that could be handled by such a young child.

For years Dad would save his loose change in assorted pots and jars in the wardrobe. He could frequently be seen carefully counting the coins into little bags and loved that it made him seem like Ebeneezer Scrooge. Yet once he had saved enough he used that money to spoil Mum. She once told me she never had to pay for a thing when they were on holiday, Dad would insist on paying for everything.

Dad could always be found with a book in hand reading voraciously. As a result he had a fantastic general knowledge and would have been a serious opponent in the annual family Christmas quiz if he could have just grasped the concept of not blurting out the answers thus giving away points to the opposing teams!

His favourite books were about history and sport. In the winter he had his rugby team to follow, but in the summer he turned his attention to the cricket. Again he tried and failed to get me interested. Every holiday he would buy me a cricket set for the beach and encourage me to play. What joy for Dad when he discovered Marjorie’s partner Lloyd enjoyed cricket too. Alas Lloyd’s team seemed to win more test matches! Once I answered the phone to Lloyd who was giggling so much he could hardly speak. I gathered he wanted to speak to Dad. It transpired that the West Indies had just thrashed England in the Test. Lloyd was hysterical. Dad took his ribbing in good humour but oh how he relished the chance to get his own back when some years later England actually beat the Windies! He chuckled about that for hours!

My cousin Craig mentioned Dad’s love of cricket when he messaged me after Dad’s passing. He hoped Dad saw Alastair Cook’s century against the Ozzies. The thought that he did brought a smile to my face.

In later years Dad worked as a porter and driver at Prestwich Hospital. Apparently he and the lads worked very hard and were renowned for their ingenuity. Such as the day when they had to remove a carpet from an old office, but were faced with the problem of a heavy desk in the middle of the room. No problem! They simply cut the carpet out around the desk!

Eventually he retired but volunteered one day a week at my school. Well I say volunteered, I kind of dragged him in there to hear readers, but he enjoyed doing this and joining us on school trips for years. I still see some pupils from those days who remember my Dad fondly and they always ask after him.

Everybody loved my Dad. My Aunty Ann said the loveliest thing: she first met Dad when she was very young. She said she always felt safe with him. He was the first man she trusted.

As I have been around telling the neighbours about Dad’s passing all have been genuinely upset and immediately said what a lovely man he was. A gentleman. Funny. Kind. Don’s sister Beryl wrote she would remember him as a wonderful, loyal friend.

The love that so many of you have shown for my Dad has been a comfort to Mum and I and for this we thank you from the bottom of our hearts.

Every morning he would greet Mum with a kiss. Being older and frailer himself in recent years he couldn’t do much to physically help mum but every day he sat by her side to keep her company and keep her safe. And that is what he was doing right till the very end.

Dad would have described himself as a plain, ordinary man. He had no false airs or graces and was proud to call himself a working class, Lancashire man: Remember Mum, how his accent would become increasingly more northern the further south we travelled!

That was my Dad. We may have argued from time to time and lord knows I was his fiercest critic, but I always knew this: He was a good man. Someone you could trust and rely on. Honest. Steadfast. Loving. And despite his attempts to appear otherwise –generous.

Above all else Dad was a loving husband and father. I believe this is how he would like you to remember him.