Good afternoon. My name is Steve and I am Mick’s Cousin-in-law but having known him for virtually all my life I looked upon him as more as a brother-in-law. Seeing so many of you here today paying your last respects, I think says more about the love & affection in which Mick was held than I can ever say But my remit today was to not be sad but to be light-hearted. Surprisingly this was not as difficult as I had anticipated because as I sat down to gather my thoughts about Mick, I could not stop myself smiling and chuckling and when I spoke to others about him, two recurring themes came through; his love for life and his infectious laughter because Mick had a highly developed sense for happiness.

Mick embraced life and had fun through good times and bad. He was a real party animal, the life and soul of any party. Mary realised he was going to be a-hand-full early on in their relationship when in 1968 whilst recuperating from a cartilage operation in the Orthopaedic Ward, he coerced Mary, who at the time was visiting with their 3 week old son Alan, to smuggle beer into the ward for everybody and smuggle out the empties. So disruptive was his behaviour that the Ward Sister moved him into a single room to stop him having a bad influence on the other inpatients.

in 1972, the family moved to Worthing where Mick became a member of the local Round Table, raising money for good causes. It was not long before he found himself elected President of the local branch. He enthusiastically embraced charity work and never seemed to be bothered about making a fool of himself, provided it was all in a good cause. He was always willing to “volunteer and have-a-go”. I mean, who can can forget his Father Christmas impersonations, or the Seaford Theatre productions of ‘Formation Lawnmower Dancing”, or my personal favourite, “Randy Andy and Booby Loo” …funny beyond , but wrong at so many levels even then; ..and in light of subsequent events, probably illegal today!!

This “have-a-go regardless” side of his personality proved problematic on at least one occasion when we went horse riding. Mick, to my certain knowledge had never ridden a horse in his life, something that he failed to tell the stable hands who chose our horses. After all “how difficult could it be”? We were about to find out. As we waited in the yard, I heard neighing and snorting and turned to see Mick astride a magnificent 17 hand, black stallion looking like one of the 4 horseman of the Apocalypse. I gently suggested he might want to change horses but he was having none of it. We left the stable with Mick, briefly, bringing up the rear of our group. Suddenly and without warning, he galloped past us at speed, whooping he later said, although it all happened so quickly he could have been screaming. He disappeared down the bridleway in a cloud of dust. Before we realised what was happening, only to reappear, thundering back toward us in the direction of the stables, legs and arms flailing at his side and looking for all the world like a Thelwell cartoon. Fortunately no harm came to horse or rider but Mick never discussed it and wisely, in my view, never got on a horse again.

The family moved to Cobham in 1984 when Mick was promoted to Manager of the Surbiton branch of the Britannia Building Society but not long after this he decided to take early retirement to begin his own local gardening business that enabled him to combine his 3 great loves, exercise, the great outdoors and meeting & talking to people, ..any people. Many of his clients became good friends including a lovely Australian couple who, after returning to Melbourne invited M&M, Lynn & I to visit them when we were on holiday in Oz. Mick and I were invited to view the gentleman’s extensive and I suspect expensive, wine cellar. He asked Mick to choose a bottle for dinner that night and although I did not actually see what happened as I went back up the stairs, I heard a crash of glass and a string of expletives from our host and Mick who were still in the cellar behind me. Mick later denied taking a bottle from the bottom of the wine stack but suffice to say Dinner was a joyous, if a little subdued event. However, he chose well, the wine was lovely
..but strangely none of us were ever invited back.

Mick enjoyed his sport. He played golf and had a handicap of 10 at one time and enjoyed running, competing in the London marathon. In his youth he played football for the local Kingswood team. Following the birth to their first born, Debbie, in the early hours of a Saturday morning, he told Mary that he would be unable to visit in the afternoon because he had been picked to play for Kingswood’s first football team. Mary was not best pleased, but Mick, she tells me, felt vindicated because not only did Kingswood win but he scored a goal. Something of a rarity I believe.

Lynn and I travelled extensively all over the world with M&M but Mick of course never actually “went” anywhere. No, Mick as you know only ever whizzed or whooshed places. In fact, am sure he loved skiing so much because of the scope it offered for whizzing and whooshing all over the mountain but unfortunately, Mick’s enthusiasm for whizzing and whooshing, impaired his ability to read or listen to instructions.
On one occasion I was waiting for Mick at the top of a “T-bar lift. I heard him before I saw him approaching, accompanied by a large American who he was regaling with skiing tales. His companion suddenly noticed a large sign to the side of the ski tracks saying, ”DO NOT PASS THIS SIGN” and he hastily took his chance to disembark. Mick, however, did neither and, unbalanced by the sudden departure of his travelling companion, and in his desperate attempts to regain his composure found himself with his skis on the wrong side of the tracks, heading for the “Do not pass” sign. He realised too late that he had no option but to run into the sign and gathering it up in both arms he dragged it 12 feet along the track between his legs before clattering into a snowdrift on top of it…in his defence, as he later explained to the ski lift operator, ..he did not technically pass the sign, and after a short exchange they let him off with a caution.

On another US skiing holiday, so keen was Mick to whiz and whoosh down the slopes on the first run of the day that he failed to pay attention to our group’s detailed instructions to take the “Pioneer trail” that enabled us all to meet up at a particular restaurant for lunch on the other side of the mountain. Our attempts to stop him whizzing past the Pioneer trail signs were futile and he spent the rest of the day lost on the mountain looking for us. Although not disgruntled, I have to say he was a long way from being gruntled that evening when we met up for a drink.

Above all else though, Mick, loved his family. He was always there for them, giving his time generously and he was always great fun. In truth Mick remained a child at heart and was never happier than when playing with his children and later his grandchildren. Debbie tells the story of how one morning after it had snowed overnight he turned up early before the grandchildren had gone to school, The door bell rang. And as they came to the door, he pelted them with snowballs that he had lined up before ringing the bell.

Christmas lunch has always been a favourite time for our family. M&M invariably arrived last and Mick could not resist singing a carol outside the front door. Who can forget Mick’s rendition of Hark the Herald Angels Sing. …even if you could not recognise it because the truth is, Mick sung badly, extremely well, but I know, we would all give anything to hear him singing carols badly again …and although he is no longer with us he will forever remain in our hearts and in our minds.

There are many more stories about Mick but I must stop now. Before I do, I want to pass on the family’s thanks to all those from The Royal Marsden Hospital and Princess Alice Hospice for their expertise and care that they so generously provided for Mick toward the end of his life.

So Mick, it is time for you to whizz off mate but please, promise me you will listen carefully to any instructions because if you take the wrong turning on this run, you could end up in the wrong place …and that could prove very unpleasant?. So thank you Mick for all the good times, you really were a one off.