Eulogy
Peter Burt
15 March 1930 – 6 November 2022
 
I’d like to take this opportunity on behalf of my mother to thank you all for coming along today to pay your respects to my father Pete.
Pete was born in the then small market town of Tonbridge on 15th March 1930; he was the first child of George Robert (Bob) and Wynn Louise (Lou) Burt, and was to be followed by two brothers John and Pat and two sisters Valerie and Janet.
His father Bob was a successful and much respected Tonbridge businessman and property owner, who he gave his children the very best upbringing that he could afford. My father told me many times over the years how his father would impart sound advice to his young children as they grew, and although firm in his ways he was always a fair and loving man. 
Pete left school in 1944 at the age of 14, the school leaving age at the time. The war years meant that hisschool days were often interrupted by air raids but through sheer determination he studied when and where he could and did very well in most of the curriculum, and particularly excelled in mathematics. By all accounts he’d enjoyed his schooldays especially captaining the school football team. 
He talked often about watching the Battle of Britain being fought in the skies above him as a ten year old and I once asked him if he was ever frightened during that time, “only at night when the bombers came to bomb the goods yard at the railway station” he replied.
He joined local electrical firm, Gilbert and Stamper,as an apprentice that year having shown good promise in his interview. He remained working for them as an electrician until 1948 when at the age of 18 he was called up for national service. In the interim period he’d met a local girl, Ruby at the Capitol dance hall in Tonbridge, and they had started dating and soon fell in love dancing to the big band music they enjoyed so much, Louis Armstrong, Glen Miller, Duke Ellington, Frank Sinatra…the list goes on. He told me over a pint that at the time he was worried that he’d be posted far away and that their love would wane in his absence ….. he needn’t have worried, they remained blissfully together for 75 years. This very year on the 10th of August they celebrated their 70th wedding anniversary and received a card from Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth the second.
Pete opted to join the RAF for his national service stint. I once asked him why the RAF? His reply was that the uniform was much smarter than either the army or navy and that he felt that he was less likely to be posted abroad. He served as a radar specialist for Southern Signals, RAF Regiment, FighterCommand, something throughout his life he was very proud of. He was based at RAF Rye where his free time allowed him to spend time fishing on the marsh drains or enjoying a pint or three in the Woolpack Inn at Brookland, and of course a 48 or 72 hour pass would allow him time to travel back to Tonbridge to see his girl Ruby.  
During his time in the RAF the Berlin blockade by Russia and the subsequent allied airlift operation commenced. He was asked by his senior officer to extend his service as an experienced radar operative,he told me that he gladly agreed in the interests of national security, and also because he had become quite fond of his regular evening off trips into nearby Rye. If there was a pint involved Pete rarely turned it down he was a very sociable man! He was promoted for his agreement to staying on and soon found himself posted to an American airbase in Norfolk to teach the “Yanks”, as he affectionately called them,how to use our radar systems, apparently although they were our biggest ally during the war and knew that we had a system for detecting incoming enemy aircraft, we hadn’t told them everything! His mission was to fill in the gaps in their knowledge. It was an experience that he enjoyed greatly, having been fed on meagre rations of either kippers, porridge or toast for breakfast he was met in the NAAFI by a plate full of bacon, sausages, eggs, tomatoes, mushrooms and bagels every morning.
Life was soon to change again for Pete in 1951; his father Bob had become very ill at the age of only 52, and he was allowed compassionate leave to visit home regularly during which he did his best to support both his mother and younger siblings emotionally during a very difficult period. Bob passed away when Pete was just 21, a heart breaking time for him and family alike and I feel so grateful that he and I had so many more years together than he did with his father.  
Whilst he was finishing off his extended service in the RAF his uncle took over the reins of the family business. As soon as Pete could, he left the job he loved and under the careful eye of his uncle assumed the role left by his father in running the family business in order to support both his mother and younger siblings. Pete was always family first, he always put the needs of others before himself and that carried on throughout his life without exception.
In August 1952 a respectful time after losing his father the previous September, Pete married his long time love Ruby and they bought their first house in North Tonbridge, off the Hadlow road.  He alsobought a dog that he named Bobby; he was and remained a dog lover throughout his long life. Life for them both was very good; big gatherings were held regularly at their house with family and friends and again when he had a house built for them in Ridgeway Crescent, Tonbridge. I came along in 1963 and I remember asking him when I was in my teens having moved to the village of Hadlow before I started school, whether I was named after his father or the dog; both he replied with that mischievous smile and chuckle!
In time and after their spells in the army during the 50’s, his brothers John and Pat joined him to run the family business. Pat left at some point to become a printer but could often be found helping his brothers out on busy race days. Three brothers so close and with a similar disposition and sense of humour would be difficult to find; their bond was inseparable and I know that as John first passed away in his late sixties and then Pat four years ago in his eighties, Pete felt their loss greatly.  They’d not only been brothers but close friends too.
During the mid 80’s, Pete and John both fed up with the increasing encroachment of the bigger national firms on their patch decided to wind up the business which had up until that point given them a very good living and embark upon a new venture. Both being anglers they decided to open a fishing tackle shop.Tonbridge Rod and Line was born and thrived under their management. The reputation of the shop spread quickly and Pete and John’s welcoming nature along with their deep knowledge of the sport brought them many new friends and opened a new chapter for them and the family. Both of them supported the work of the local angling clubs in Tonbridge and Penshurstand they took a particular interest in helping the junior members with gifts of tackle and sound advice on where to fish; both felt strongly and rightly that the young anglers represented the future of the sportwhich they loved so much.
At around the time of the opening the new business,Pete and Ruby moved back into North Tonbridge a few roads away from where they’d bought their first house, closer to John and Pat and the rest of the family. I’ll admit that I was disappointed they’d left Hadlow where I’d grown up but I was grateful and still am that I was raised a country boy by a father and mother who essentially gave me the best childhood that anyone could wish for.
Pete was never happier than when he was out walking the river with one of his Labradors; he was a countryman and angler, a man with an inquisitive mind for the natural world - just to look through his bookshelf would give you the measure of the man’s affinity with nature; books on landscapes of the British Isles, fish, mammals, insects, plants, dogs and one which I found recently about earthworms! 
He had travelled widely during his angling forays:Salmon fishing in Scotland, Sea Trout on the Welsh borders, Pike on the Norfolk Broads, barbel, chub and roach on the Hants Avon, Dorset Stour and Kennet. His easy going nature and wonderful sense of humour made him many friends throughout his life, including me; not only was he my father but he was my best friend too. I can remember very well meeting his Scottish friends, Stuart, Annie and Chickin the early 80’s on the river Deveron in the Highlands; they welcomed him like a returning brother in the hotel bar that evening where there was much banter and of course whisky, but he had a way of treating everyone the same, whether they be the ghillie or the Laird, they were all anglers and friendsin his eyes. 
As I grew older, my friends were always welcomed into his home and treated like family especially Kevand gradually as we aged together and spent time fishing, enjoying a pint and a chat, my friends became his friends as his friends became mine. Having a pint with Pete’s friend David when he couldn’t join us seems as natural as Pete going off for a day’s fishing with my old mate Kev when I was hard at work…. Bringing people together is rather special in my eyes and he did it with ease, he was the nucleus around which everything else circulated.
Pete was a true gentleman; his humour rarely risqué but hilarious all the same, I hardly ever heard him swear but I do remember well the day we were fishing the lower beat of the Downton stretch on the Hants Avon, we’d walked down through the water meadow toward the river, I’d have been about 14 at the time and deftly stepped over a little feeder streamwith my tackle. He followed but misjudged his footing slipping over backwards into a lovely fresh cowpat!  It was the first and last time time I’d ever heard him use the F word, he was covered in it! I’m not proud to say that I laughed so much that it hurt! He eventually cleaned himself up a bit with some wet grass but then being a hot day later on was surrounded by flies….we had a laugh together in the bar afterwards but I was sworn not to tell mum about his use of the F word…. I never did. What happens on the bank, stays on the bank…..
A year or so later I wandered down to the village to catch the bus to school. His car was parked outside the paper shop, nothing unusual as he was, I thought,probably having a natter to his friend Gaffer the proprietor on his way to work. Upon arriving back in the village on the bus after school, the shop was closed and his car was mysteriously still parked in the same place. I hurried home to find him lying on the couch in a rather inebriated state! A few coffees later the story of the day unfolded; he’d gone into the shop like he did every morning to collect his paper and tobacco and it turned out to be Gaffers birthday…now Gaffer had a bar upstairs in the flat above the shop and invited him up for a quick toast….which had ended up lasting all day and involved four of the village pubs…. My mother was not amused!
Just a few years back he said he’d like a day’s fishingon the Medway at Penshurst. I picked him up in the morning and helped him over the field with his tackle to his favourite swim, I set him up for the day and wandered downstream 30 yards or so. I’d just tackled up and cast in when I heard a large splash and a shout; I thought he’d hooked a monster barbel so I reeled in quickly and ran up the bank to help him….there was his chair and his tackle bag but no sign of him… then on looking a little closer I saw his hat in the river ……. he shouted again …… he’d slipped in on striking a bite and all 5feet 6inches of him was now treading water almost under the bank, all I could see was his head. I grabbed him and pulled him out and helped him back to the Landrover, started it up and got the heater running whist I ran back and retrieved our tackle… I got him home in double quick time, got the shower warming up nicely…. but all he wanted first was a large scotch. My mother found the whole episodeabsolutely hilarious!
Pete gave me many gifts in life; life itself, his sense of humour, an appreciation of the countryside and adeep love for angling as indeed he did for his grandsons Si and Jay too. I was honoured to be by his side when he hooked and landed his biggest salmon on the river Deveron and when having taught me to fly fish I caught my first brown trout in his company he took me for my first proper pint to celebrate and said to me “now you can fish like a man yopu can drink like a man”... I was 15! We spent many treasured years on the riverbank together andhad very many laughs and giggles along the way.One last laugh of the multitude we had together I must share from his extensive back catalogue was when we were out trout fishing on Bewl Water from a boat.  It was a windy warm day and the trout were taking readily, we were having fun. One of my casts went awry and I looked round to see that I’d caught him firmly in the earlobe with my fly; he winced a bit, cut the line and carried on fishing leaving me to tie on another fly. There was no way that I could convince him to return to the bank to get it removed as the blood tricked down his neck. Remarkably the fly was still embedded in his ear when we sampled a pint that evening in the pub. Two young punky types were sitting at the bar and I pointed out to him that he fitted in quite nicely…. Pete being Pete saw the funny side as usual!
But he wasn’t just about angling. His greatest love was for my mother Ruby. He was until his last day,totally and utterly devoted to her. He’d always, as he did with family, put her needs first; he was unselfish with his love and his time. His other great loves were his dogs upon which he dotted; he always loved having a dog in his life and quite often when he and I were out together, he’d phone mum on the pretext of making sure she was ok, but start with the sentence “how’s the dog darling?” Snooker was another passion which he played to a very high standard andhe won many trophies at both the constitutional club and the British Legion the last being when he was in his early eighties, quite unbelievable but true. Horse racing was a big part of his life, he twice whilst we were away fishing for a week won enough money to pay for the whole holiday with plenty left over to buy something nice for mum on our return. He was so chuffed that I’d won a very good pay-out on this year’s Grand National on a horse with the same name as my spaniel, Yates. And of course how could we forget his long love of Arsenal football club the team he’d supported all of his life and which he veryrecently reminded me are top of the league with a big smile and twinkle in his eyes; how fitting that they won again on the day he passed….I’m sure that itwas meant to be…
They say that the most valuable thing you can give to anyone is your time… you dad, gave it freely and in abundance… thank you!
Pete, we’ll all miss that laugh, that incrediblymischievous smile, the twinkle in your eye, and your generosity of spirit. I’ll see you on the other side,don’t forget to save me a good swim on the river …I’ll bring the apple pie and cream of which you were so fond….and we’ll do it all again mate!