This content is protected against AI scraping.
This is Mirinda and Fi’s eulogy for Bob, which they read at the funeral today.
Fi: Hi I’m Fiona, Dad’s number two daughter. And this is Mirinda, my older sister. We’re going to share some aspects of Dad’s life, which was a wonderful life, and then some personal memories from each of us of Dad as a father, and he was a wonderful father.
Dad was born on the 9th of April 1939 – Easter Sunday – actually at home in Granville, where he lived until he got married.
He was very fond of his two sisters Manuela and Sue, but there was a big age difference, and he told us that he had quite a lonely childhood as there were no other boys his age nearby, and in those days parents didn’t drive kids around everywhere, plus his natural personality was actually quite shy.
But at 14 he decided to make a change, and answered a local paper ad about joining a tennis club. I imagine he really had to psyche himself up to do that – after all he was only 14 years old, and shy – but it was a good decision and changed his life. It was there he met Mum, and good friends Jeanette and Carl, and from then on he developed many friendships over his life.
Mirinda: Dad was an incredibly smart school student. Especially at subjects like physics, maths and chemistry. He once created a stink bomb in chemistry class which he hid behind the blackboard. It went off, filled the room with stinky gas and everyone had to be evacuated. The kids were thrilled, the teacher less so, but despite this naughtiness he went on to score so highly in his final exams that he was offered a place at Sydney University together with a full scholarship – and this was at a time when only a tiny percentage went to university, and even fewer got a scholarship.
It was at school he got his love of science. He was always reading and learning throughout the rest of his life, especially astronomy. A few days before he died we talked about how we all began as star dust, and we will all return to star dust. There is some solace in that. And on his last night one of the things I played to him in the hospital was some podcasts on astronomy.
Much as he loved science he really didn’t get art. I still remember him ranting in outrage when the Australian government spent three million dollars to acquire Blue Poles! To add insult to injury rotary organised a special visit to Canberra to view it!
Dad decided to go into his father’s business rather than to university. He completed his apprenticeship – starting from the bottom like anyone else. Poppy died when Dad was only 30, and Dad had to not only deal with that grief (they were very close) but also take over and run the joinery business.
I was always rather proud of Dad’s business. After all, he ran a successful business, it employed people, it supported their families, and it made beautiful things. That’s a great achievement for any business person.
Plus the factory itself was an entrancing place filled with the smell of wood, mysterious machines, and bottomless cups of cup-a-soups.
Fi: One of the people Dad met when he joined the tennis club was of course Claire Marshall – Mum. They were just friends and tennis partners initially. And remember Dad was shy and didn’t really think he’d have a chance with mum who was seriously gorgeous. But one day Mum asked Dad to be her partner at her debut. Soon Mum and Dad started dating, and ended up in a marriage that lasted 52 years.
Together they had children and grandchildren, innumerable pets, built two houses including Dural which they loved, worked in the business together, and were both rotarians and winners of the Paul Harris fellowship. They had many friends and loved tennis, picnics, dinner parties, and hosting exchange students, and our very first exchange student Wendy Long has flown in from Canada just to be with us here today.
They also loved our family holidays at Nambucca heads, Oberon and Angledool, and later in life travelling together all over the world.
And when the dark times came with Mum’s illness, which lasted two and a half years, Dad was truly amazing in how he cared for Mum, staying overnight in the hospital many many times, and doing everything he could to ease her life. The depth of their love was incredible.
Of course the years after Mum’s passing were tough. But he continued with rotary and golf, regularly met up with a group of dear friends he called the old farts, and he continued to travel.
But he was lonely, and then one day, many years later, he was lucky enough to meet Judy Jones. Although they lived in different states, they started seeing each other – again it was Judy who asked Dad out! And though it was a bit of a surprise to us at first, we were so glad to see Dad get a second lease on life, and for both of them to bring joy, love and companionship into each others lives. Judy unfortunately cannot be here today, but she did say “Robert will always be in my heart. I will always love him. Love him forever.”
Mirinda: Dad conquered his early shyness and became a deeply sociable man. All of us here today will remember how his presence would light up a room. He loved to talk and laugh and listen and tell stories. He loved reading non-fiction and Australian poetry and The Magic Pudding. He loved musical theatre and watching air crash investigations. He hated politics and telstra, modern art and jazz, abbeys and frescoes, and the endless rain which meant he couldn’t play golf.
He was a real out-doorsy Aussie bloke. And a talented sportsman. He was an A grade tennis player when he was young, and then an A grade squash player a bit later on, and of course an A grade golfer, as well as playing water polo, and going water skiing and snow skiing.
He went fishing at Sweers Island in the Gulf of Carpentaria, pig hunting in outback NSW, trout fishing in Oberon. He visited New Guinea with rotary to help build toilet blocks for a charity. He provided the doors and was a bit taken aback when they were removed by the local people to be used as beds instead. He travelled to Nepal and smuggled jewels back in the lining of his coat, and flew his little plane all over Australia, even as far away as Broome, and only a few years ago he took a special flight as a passenger over the Antarctic. He loved boating, swimming, and motor-bike riding. Even at 78 years of age he went to Lapland on his own to see the northern lights, go ice fishing, and take a three hour husky safari where he got frost bite.
He experienced locust plagues, floods, mouse plagues, and his factory burnt down twice, he shattered his leg in outback NSW and detached his retina in Tuscany. But he also swam in piping hot muddy bores, experienced a magical white Christmas in the Dolomites, and had barbecues under the brilliant stars of outback NSW.
A love of being outdoors and active and being Australian was core to Dad’s being. We were so glad to be able to keep him at home till almost the very end, as a long stint in hospital would have been like prison to him.
I know that today we cannot help but be filled with sorrow, but we should also remember what a full and adventurous life Dad had. Almost as soon as he was diagnosed he said “Remember I’m 83 years old. I have had a wonderful life. I don’t know anyone who has had as wonderful a life as me”. He was genuinely and bravely at peace with his situation.
Fiona and I will now share some personal thoughts of Dad as a father, starting with Fiona.
Fi: Where do I begin to share my feelings about the most wonderful father in the world.
We had an extremely close bond. He was my rock, my go-to, dependable and protective.
He was so intelligent and knowledgeable about life, science, astronomy, history, business and mathematics (he was better than Google!)
I mean even as a young child I remember we’d go out to dinner and dad would set up a mathematical challenge using the salt and pepper shaker and various utensils, asking how long it would take five soldiers to get from point a to point b on a moving train going at a certain velocity that stopped at x amount of stops etc
Mirinda would work it out of course which would delight him.
I could ask him anything. I could ring him at any hour night or day and he would be there for me. He would recite poetry on demand. I’m sure many of you will especially recall him reciting the dog fight poem.
He had a gentle fun-loving nature. He was humble and selfless, always thinking of others before himself
For example at a dinner party one night Mum had mis-counted the number of dinners to be served (she was one short) so Dad – noting this – distracted everyone by topping up their drinks and keeping busy socialising so that nobody even noticed he missed out.
He was a wonderful story-teller and would create exciting Jonathan and Agatha stories when we were kids, which Lauren and Jason also came to love.
He had so many interests including rotary, flying and golf. Golf was always a big part of Dad’s life. He used to say “A bad day on the golf course is better than a good day in the office.”
Dad was a very patient man. Besides being patient with us girls, he put up with Mum’s menagerie of pets including three dogs, a horse, a cow, a rabbit, two guinea pigs, four birds, two joey kangaroos, two mice and three fish.
Everyone who met Dad would say what a lovely person he was. He was one of the happiest, most positive and enthusiastic people I know and spread so much positivity in this world. He would always look on the bright side of life.
I am so grateful for having him as my father and knowing how grateful he was for having such a wonderful and happy life. As he said he wouldn’t swap it for the world.
Mirinda: My earliest memory of Dad is his snoring. If ever I awoke in the middle of the night I would hear it echoing through the house – but for me as a toddler it was a sign of safety. Dad’s home and all is well.
Then there was the intense excitement of my third birthday party – and the many amazing birthday parties we had as children. There was always ice cream cake, fairy bread, thousands of local kids all piled up on the see saw in a delightful breach of health and safety that you wouldn’t see today, and lots of games.
But undoubtedly the star of the show was Dad. He’d take the dry ice from the ice cream cake to make his infamous witches brew which he served up to the kids with terrifying prophecies like how they’d now turn into a spider at midnight. Kids adored Dad. He’d spin them around airplane style by the hands or by the feet – or best of all by one hand and one foot. He’d let them clamber up his tummy and flip over in a somersault. I’m not sure how the parents felt but the kids would all be yelling for another go! Even today Dad’s neighbour’s little grandson, Jordan, has a seat in the garden facing Dad’s property so he can look out for Uncle Bob mowing the lawn or practicing his golf.
Many of you may not realise what a lovely singing voice Dad had and how much he used to sing when we were growing up. As a family we used to drive long distances and we would pester Dad to sing our favourites on the journey – Little Boy Lost, Beep Beep and Delaney’s Donkey were especial favourites. Fiona inherited that musical talent.
And finally Dad taught us so many things. How to ride motorbikes in our garden at Dundas – and then around this very golf course! He taught us how to fish, and catch yabbies, to shoot, and to drive. He taught me how to go outside to revel in a thunder storm – though for some reason Fiona, Mum and the dog only learnt how to hide in a cupboard till it was over. He took us and our friends boating and camping. He taught us how to explore rock pools and avoid jelly fish. And he taught us the names of the stars – and of course what they were made of.
Dad was one of those people who never lost his sense of wonder in the world. He was always learning new things and he passed that love of learning on to me. It is one of the things I am most grateful for.
And he was such a cheerful and jovial man. He had what I’d call a high happiness set point. And that is something he gave to both Fiona and me. Life might be difficult and sad at times, but sooner or later that inner happiness and contentment returns. Thanks to him.
It is hard to accept that Dad is no longer with us. And to believe we can continue to live and walk upon this planet without him. As Fiona says, he was our rock. He was our sense of security and safety and love.
On the 11th June just before 7am with the sunrise streaming into his room, Dad breathed his last. I was with him, and his end was very peaceful. The world has lost a wonderful man. A wonderful friend, a wonderful brother, but most of all for us a wonderful father.
Thank you Dad for everything. We will miss you every day.
