The obituary notice of Bernard TINGLE

A poem to Dad

As a small child I used to see.
Our dad tinkering with my toys in front of me.
His desire to find out how they worked.
His careful skill to deconstruct.
Once he’d seen the bit that made them tick.
He’d put them back together rather quick.

As i grew older he’d happily teach.
He guided us all through life’s potential reach.
From riding a bike to programming computers.
To brewing a beer and drinking it properly.
Advice on first dates and what not to say.
Our dad’s knowledge passed onto us to all.
The biggest tinkering he did is with our hearts and our souls.

He wasn’t a believer in religion, or prescribed to heaven or hell.
But I know he believed theres somewhere out there where we all got to go.
So dad I know you’ll have found your workshop, I hope it’s well stocked and in good order.
Maybes spend some time with Babbage, Brunel and Wallace to talk engineering over.
Then invite them to a small gathering with family and friends, you know like the ones you never wanted to end.

To all of you here as my dad used to say, keep looking for answers, engineer the problems away.
He’d want us all looking forwards, only briefly reflect on the past.
Sadly no longer can we pop over or call to ask for advice.
But I’m sure dad you know all advice previously given will never be forgotten.

I love you, until we meet again rest easy dad, my best friend x