Eulogy
Created by Sean 8 years agoDon’t talk when the cricket is on, don’t mention football scores if Sunderland have lost, and don’t wash the inside of the teapot. Simple rules for us to live by. But, it wasn’t that simple when it came to gravy…
Most of you will know that Mum is no slouch when it comes to the kitchen. But when it came to gravy, Mum was usually just the sous chef! To me, the making of the gravy always seemed to take much too long; it was more like a Japanese tea ceremony than a simple finishing touch to a roast dinner. So, if you were invited to the household of Group Captain and Mrs McQuillan for that sort of dinner, you might be forgiven for thinking that some sort of decorum would apply to consuming the gravy.
Not for Dad. On a good day bread would be used. More likely, guests or not, the gravy would be slurped noisily, without a hint of shame, straight from the plate.
And that slightly irreverent approach to life, mixed with good measures of stubbornness and forthrightness, was Dad.
He also regarded the English language as something precious, and hated to see it being abused. In our house you dropped your t’s and h’s at your peril. But he especially enjoyed a good book and, when we were younger, he enjoyed sharing some of his favourites with us. So bedtime stories consisted of books like The Secret of Pooduck Island, Puck of Pook’s Hill and Arthur Ransome from Swallows and Amazons to Great Northern. But despite a solid command of the English language, he never quite mastered pronouncing “bath” or “grass”.
All McQuillan-related histories involve water – usually with someone, often Dad, falling in it. But Dad had a more extensive love of water. Which meant fishing trips (at least for me and Dad) and holidays on the Broads and by the sea, especially in the Scilly Isles. Obviously, then, he joined the Royal Air Force!
But not before an attempt at University. Despite his best efforts, it actually took St Andrews University a whole year to work out that they should go their separate ways. Then off to the Air Force it was, with just a Diploma from the School of Life.
You may not know, but Mum was actually in the Air Force as well, which was where she and Dad met. In fact, when they met, Mum outranked him, and he would fondly point out that when they first got married he had to salute her before going to bed!
Dad served for 34 years. It wasn’t all glamour, but he did serve in Gan, Germany, the Falkland Islands and Australia, and I think he would have counted Lossiemouth in his favourites, too, being right by the sea. Each also gave him the opportunity to indulge
a sort of passive passion for ornithology. And it was a successful career – he left as a Group Captain, and picked up an OBE on the way, too. Not bad for someone who was “excused” the last 2 years of university.
I recently found out that Dad was a bit of a document hoarder. Which is handy, 'cause I found some stuff you might appreciate.
This bit comes from a questionnaire Dad filled out when he was retiring from the Air Force. It gives a bit of an insight into Dad as an engineer, as well as illustrating what I said earlier about Dad and English:
Short Title: Transport Crisis
Date and Place: Lake District 1968
Problem or Situation: On a very cold and wet Saturday afternoon in the Lake District our car suddenly shed all response to the accelerator. The problem proved to be disintegration of the outer portion and footing of the accelerator cable. We were not members of the AA or RAC and the children were young and hungry. We needed first to get to civilisation and ultimately to get home.
Actions: We recovered sufficient fragments to reconstitute, temporarily, the outer cable with the aid of sticky tape. A beer bottle top, found at the roadside, formed an improvised footing. This got us to the nearest town, where both garages were shut. We were able, however, to purchase a motor cycle brake cable which we cut to length, thereby solving half the problem. The beer bottle top continued to provide the remainder of the solution.
Results: We never were able to procure the manufacturer’s spares for our aged foreign vehicle but the improvised solution was still working satisfactorily when we finally sold the car some time later.
Importance to me: I became more aware of the importance of ingeniousness in engineering and more self reliant. In this case, at least, the French word is more appropriate than ours.
(That last, one of very few compliments he ever directed towards the French.)
This next bit was written by the Australian Ordnance Board. It’s from a group of individuals called The Auditors, and it’s addressed to President, Australian Ordnance Council. It reads:
Completion of Exchange Duties and Return to UK of Jack McQuillan
Although he has an honest looking face, every precaution should be taken to ensure that he “does not nick off with our mop and bucket !”.
Well, I can’t speak for the mop, but I think the bucket has now been accounted for….
So long, and thanks for all the Grandpa sweets.
Most of you will know that Mum is no slouch when it comes to the kitchen. But when it came to gravy, Mum was usually just the sous chef! To me, the making of the gravy always seemed to take much too long; it was more like a Japanese tea ceremony than a simple finishing touch to a roast dinner. So, if you were invited to the household of Group Captain and Mrs McQuillan for that sort of dinner, you might be forgiven for thinking that some sort of decorum would apply to consuming the gravy.
Not for Dad. On a good day bread would be used. More likely, guests or not, the gravy would be slurped noisily, without a hint of shame, straight from the plate.
And that slightly irreverent approach to life, mixed with good measures of stubbornness and forthrightness, was Dad.
He also regarded the English language as something precious, and hated to see it being abused. In our house you dropped your t’s and h’s at your peril. But he especially enjoyed a good book and, when we were younger, he enjoyed sharing some of his favourites with us. So bedtime stories consisted of books like The Secret of Pooduck Island, Puck of Pook’s Hill and Arthur Ransome from Swallows and Amazons to Great Northern. But despite a solid command of the English language, he never quite mastered pronouncing “bath” or “grass”.
All McQuillan-related histories involve water – usually with someone, often Dad, falling in it. But Dad had a more extensive love of water. Which meant fishing trips (at least for me and Dad) and holidays on the Broads and by the sea, especially in the Scilly Isles. Obviously, then, he joined the Royal Air Force!
But not before an attempt at University. Despite his best efforts, it actually took St Andrews University a whole year to work out that they should go their separate ways. Then off to the Air Force it was, with just a Diploma from the School of Life.
You may not know, but Mum was actually in the Air Force as well, which was where she and Dad met. In fact, when they met, Mum outranked him, and he would fondly point out that when they first got married he had to salute her before going to bed!
Dad served for 34 years. It wasn’t all glamour, but he did serve in Gan, Germany, the Falkland Islands and Australia, and I think he would have counted Lossiemouth in his favourites, too, being right by the sea. Each also gave him the opportunity to indulge
a sort of passive passion for ornithology. And it was a successful career – he left as a Group Captain, and picked up an OBE on the way, too. Not bad for someone who was “excused” the last 2 years of university.
I recently found out that Dad was a bit of a document hoarder. Which is handy, 'cause I found some stuff you might appreciate.
This bit comes from a questionnaire Dad filled out when he was retiring from the Air Force. It gives a bit of an insight into Dad as an engineer, as well as illustrating what I said earlier about Dad and English:
Short Title: Transport Crisis
Date and Place: Lake District 1968
Problem or Situation: On a very cold and wet Saturday afternoon in the Lake District our car suddenly shed all response to the accelerator. The problem proved to be disintegration of the outer portion and footing of the accelerator cable. We were not members of the AA or RAC and the children were young and hungry. We needed first to get to civilisation and ultimately to get home.
Actions: We recovered sufficient fragments to reconstitute, temporarily, the outer cable with the aid of sticky tape. A beer bottle top, found at the roadside, formed an improvised footing. This got us to the nearest town, where both garages were shut. We were able, however, to purchase a motor cycle brake cable which we cut to length, thereby solving half the problem. The beer bottle top continued to provide the remainder of the solution.
Results: We never were able to procure the manufacturer’s spares for our aged foreign vehicle but the improvised solution was still working satisfactorily when we finally sold the car some time later.
Importance to me: I became more aware of the importance of ingeniousness in engineering and more self reliant. In this case, at least, the French word is more appropriate than ours.
(That last, one of very few compliments he ever directed towards the French.)
This next bit was written by the Australian Ordnance Board. It’s from a group of individuals called The Auditors, and it’s addressed to President, Australian Ordnance Council. It reads:
Completion of Exchange Duties and Return to UK of Jack McQuillan
Although he has an honest looking face, every precaution should be taken to ensure that he “does not nick off with our mop and bucket !”.
Well, I can’t speak for the mop, but I think the bucket has now been accounted for….
So long, and thanks for all the Grandpa sweets.