Eulogy delivered by Steve’s brother at St Peter’s Church.
I can’t pretend that this is anything other than extremely difficult. The circumstances that bring us all together today are so unfair. We are still reeling from the shock. Less than two years ago, we, the family, had gathered; joined by many of you who are here again today, to attend Mum’s funeral. At that time none of us, in our darkest imagination, could have or should have foreseen we would be regathering so soon in such very sad circumstances. Mum was 92 and had been ill for a very long time. Steve however was just 70, and apart from a brief illness just before he died, had enjoyed good health all of his life. He still had such a long way to go, so much to look forward to. That is why this is so difficult, that this is so unfair. But we are here to remember him and to celebrate his life. And so we will.
Steve was born in February 1954, the first child of seven to Len and Joan. Our big brother, the leader of the Way gang. Although I am sure that Steve would be the first to recognise that in childhood that role was never easily fulfilled, waging a constant power struggle with the would-be usurper Clive. Clive was clearly the mischievous one, Steve on the other hand the sensible sibling who always steered the right course and had Clive’s back on numerous occasions.
There is a story often told in the family about when Steve and Clive, were nippers. They had run out of caps for their cap guns and knew that Chivers’ newsagents on Newton Road stocked them. However, due to their age they were forbidden from crossing the Dunns and Newton Road. Clive persuaded Steve and another friend to make the trip anyway, and after successfully navigating Newton Road and securing the ammunition, on the return journey Clive ran out in front of a car in Gower Place getting struck lightly by the vehicle. It was not serious; Clive was not hurt and more remarkably the car was not damaged; and the driver was reassured that no harm was done. Clive warned Steve not to mention anything about this to Mum “or else” risk getting walloped. Steve dutifully kept his silence, only for Mum to find out anyway by somebody, who had witnessed the incident, stopping her in the village and asking how her lovely little boy was after being hit by the car. It was Steve more so than Clive, who bore the brunt of Mum’s wrath, for not keeping him in check and worse for joining his conspiracy of silence. Clive does relate however that both he and their friend also received summary justice at the hands of Mum. Incidentally, the driver of the said car was no other than the Vicar of Newton Church!
The pair of brothers were obviously close and not just due to their proximity of age, and yet very different. Clive told me the other day, that when he was about 8 (so Steve about 10), the family were often treated to a fish supper from Johnnie’s chip shop at the weekend, on a Friday or Saturday evening. Clive would be the one routinely sent out to collect which obviously meant in winter time, being after dark. On one such occasion Clive protested that it was always him and suggested Steve go instead. Dad, it seems on this one occasion agreed, on the condition that Clive accompany Steve as his minder. Not the outcome Clive was after.
Steve was then by comparison at least, the quieter one. He was most certainly the responsible one. As a youngster he used to help Dad at weekends on his milk round in West Cross. So adept was he at numbers that in no time at all he was helping Dad to keep his delivery books balanced much to Dad’s delight. There was Steve, showing at a young age what his strengths were and providing an insight into the career that lay ahead of him.
This acumen for book keeping is further illustrated by the time Mum spent in hospital when we were kids. Steve was placed in charge of the housekeeping money, taking receipt of Dad’s unopened pay packet on payday, and budgeting for all expenses and, if funds permitted, occasionally awarding Dad “pocket money”, back to him out of his wages. Lynne recalls this time well. Her job was looking after the “little ones” – Ali and Nigel. She specifically remembers Steve pointing out to her that she had overspent on groceries, and so tightened his grip on the purse strings. His regime of austerity paid dividends because when Mum came out of hospital there was a surplus in the kitty. Most memorable for Lynne, from this time is the realisation that this was the closest Steve ever came to telling her off. And that is a sentiment that all of us siblings can relate to, having never had a cross word with Steve – ever. It was simply not his way.
But this image of being quiet and responsible risks hiding the full qualities of his true character: – He was conscientious and industrious. He kept his own counsel. He was the calming influence in the family. He was clever, extremely well read with an encyclopaedic knowledge of just about anything and everything. He was funny, had a formidable sense of humour and was without fail always good company. And more so always there to help, a kind and supportive son and brother and a devoted husband to Liz. He was methodical but it seems could be prone to being somewhat random. Liz told me the other day, as is the sad reality of a loved one dying, that she was going through all of the necessary paperwork, which Steve by his nature, meticulously maintained, or so she thought, only to find various records out of place. She said that she spoke to Steve in that moment, reminiscent of the classic Morecombe and Wise sketch, of which Steve would have been very much appreciative, saying to him “You have all the right documents, just not necessarily in the right order.”
When we were children Steve and Clive would tease me mercilessly. They would wind me up at every opportunity. I still remember one such incident even though I could have only been about 5 years old. They had spent an evening telling me that a monster lived in the wardrobe in our bedroom. I slept right next to it. Having gone to bed that night, from their side of the room, they began pulling on a string they had attached to the wardrobe door handle earlier. It creaked as it slowly opened, sending me jumping out of bed and screaming to Mum and Dad and leaving them howling with laughter. With hindsight I suspect that it was probably Clive’s idea.
Pranks aside though Steve was always there for us, throughout our lives. He was a constant, a rock. Steve played the part of big brother well. An avid sports fan, supporting the Ospreys and the Whites, a keen follower of the Welsh rugby team and lifelong supporter of the Swans and Chelsea, he took me to my first ever football match, at the Vetch, when I was just 7 or 8 years old. I sadly cannot remember who the Swans played that day or what the score was. Steve would have known, because he had such a capacity to retain details. His support of Chelsea in the 1970s was ardent. During the 1970 FA Cup Final Chelsea played Leeds, the match ending in a 2 all draw. This resulted in the first FA cup replay in nearly sixty years which took place midweek at the end of April at Old Trafford. We watched it at home on our grainy black and white tv with Steve only inches away from the screen throughout. At full time it was a 1:1 draw. In extra time though Chelsea’s Ian Hutchinson put the winning goal into Leeds’ net. Steve’s reaction was to scream with delight and launch himself into the air headbutting the lintel of the kitchen door and briefly knocking himself unconscious! I think he bore the dent at the bridge of his nose ever after.
His influence over me manifested itself in a number of ways. Steve was, in his teens into the rock music of the era and again inspired me greatly by the music he listened to. Whilst my school friends were into T. Rex, Mud and the Sweet, I was introduced to the Who, Hendrix and the Doors. In his teens, Steve had a holiday job for years in the pier chip shop. Another indirect influence on me, as I was to follow him into the oil business as we liked to call it, but at Johnnies chip shop for me.
Steve went to infants and junior school in the Mumbles before passing the 11 plus and attending Dynevor Grammar School in 1965. There he passed his O Levels and then A Levels before gaining a place at Aberystwyth University to study for a degree in Economics. A fact that filled Dad to bursting point with pride, the first of our family to achieve this and the son of a milkman, as Dad was keen to point out to anyone who cared to listen, or in fact didn’t care to.
In recognition of this remarkable feat, Clive who was 16 and who had at that time a summer job at Dick Barton’s chip shop at Southend – bit of a family pattern there, hired the Collectors Bar at the pier to throw a good bye / good luck party for Steve. Unfortunately, Steve got so drunk he was sick when he got home. Mum was the epitome of patience and understanding: with Steve, as she gently tended to him saying “there, there” whilst simultaneously tearing into Clive saying “This is all your fault”.
I remember Alison, Nigel and me had a day off school to go with Mum, Dad and Steve to Aberystwyth for his enrolment in September 1972. If my memory serves me rightly Hazel and David had lent Dad their car, a lovely big Hillman Super-minx. The journey as I recall seemed to be made up, not of motorways or A roads, but endless country lanes and we got constantly lost. We eventually arrived and delivered Steve to his ‘Digs’ in (curiously for me) Grey’s Inn Road in the town, where Mum tearfully passed over care of her first born to the lovely landlady Mrs Williams. Mum cried in the car all the way back to Swansea. It was only Aberystwyth, but by Mum’s reaction you’d have thought Steve been drafted and sent to Vietnam. Every week she sent him a carefully and lovingly packed food parcel, made up of all of his favourites including Mum’s famous pasties and belly pork. She would also include a copy of the Evening Post Sport’s edition, which I think came out on a Sunday morning so he could keep abreast of his beloved sports results. How lovely life was before the internet.
Steve graduated in 1975 and began training as a Chartered Accountant in Cardiff originally with the firm Man-judd before becoming Touche Ross. It was that year also that the most important thing ever to happen to Steve occurred. He started seeing Liz. Liz who was to be his soul mate and constant companion for the rest of his life. They married in 1979 and lived for a year or so in a flat in Cathedral Close in Cardiff. I remember staying with Steve and Liz in October that year with two school friends, to see the Boomtown Rats play at Sophia Gardens and to bunk off school the next day to see The Stranglers sign autographs at Spiller’s record shop.
In 1980 Steve and Liz returned to Swansea, living on Gower Road in Sketty, for the now fully qualified Steve to take up a position as Financial Director at Atlas Fire Engineering, a firm that I in turn would have connections with, thanks to Steve.
In 1983, having gained a position on a law degree at University in London, I couldn’t go because I had no funding. I had to defer my place for a year and look for work to save money in order to pay my fees the following Autumn. I took the bus to the job centre in Swansea three times a week, but there was nothing, no vacancies for anything. This was a bleak time, the depths of Thatcher’s Britain (apologies to Liz but Steve would have expected some politics from me). By late October it looked as though my aspirations of a legal career would end before they began. But Steve had my back. Discussing my situation with his colleagues at Atlas he secured me originally a three-week temp job doing clerical work starting at the beginning of November at the premises in Fforestfach. This thankfully and amazingly extended into ten months full time work with the opportunity for overtime enabling me to meet my fees the following year. It also provided me with constant vacation work during my entire time at university. This I have Steve to thank for, and with the added bonus of having the pleasure of working with my brother.
In 2000, Steve accompanied Mum and Ali to North America to visit family. He went out of his way to ensure they had a good time, driving them to all of the sights including Niagara Falls, and introducing them to some of his favourite foods Canada had to offer, notably Tim Horton Donuts.
Steve left Atlas in 2006[?] but was not ready to retire. He took up work as an accountant with an agency for about a year before a permanent post came his way at the La Brasseria restaurant in Swansea. Not in the kitchens I hasten to add, but as their accountant. A short time later Liz joined him there on the workforce and they enjoyed a number of years working together. He did finally retire in 2015 and embarked on a happy and contented life in retirement.
He repeated the gesture from my childhood, taking me a number of times to the Liberty Stadium to watch the Swans play during their brief but brilliant spell in the premiership, and the two of us went to watch them at Wembley to beat Bradford 5:0 in the League Cup final.
He maintained his association with his old school being treasurer of the Old Dy’vorians, a role he found so rewarding.
He loved pub quizzes and was the only male member of the team made up of Liz and her colleagues at the RNLI shop called “The Lifeboat Lovelies AND STEVE”. They attended the monthly quiz at the Beaufort Arms where Steve could put his encyclopaedic knowledge of everything to great effect. It has sadly been acknowledged by members of the team that now without Steve they may well never win again. He was also to that end the undefeated Trivial Pursuit champion in all of the family games played.
He was a rock for Sandra, Alison and Nigel during their care of Mum in her final years and throughout the difficult time of Covid, offering his support and reassurance in his calm manner.
He loved travel particularly his annual trips with Liz and the dogs to Beer in Devon and had enjoyed a number of cruises, the most recent being only last year.
He looked forward to his weekly coffee meetings with his lifelong friends, our cousin Rob and Colin Muxworthy and Mike Venn, where no doubt the ills of the world were put to right by four seasoned cynics.
He loved taking the dogs for a walk and meeting up with the extended family whenever the opportunity presented itself, always the first to suggest a Zoom meeting, always there at Verdi’s when the family convened for a gathering.
Most of all, he just loved being with Liz.
Conclude
There should have been many more pub quizzes for Steve, many more trips to Beer with Liz and the dogs, perhaps more cruises, and certainly many more meetings for coffee with his mates. There should have been more family gatherings with Steve in attendance. But there won’t be, and we must bear the loss of Steve no longer being amongst us. Hard though that is we can take comfort from our happy memories of Steve, the lovely, gentle, man that he was, and the immense impact he had on all of us, enriching our lives in the process. Having spoken with my siblings over the past few weeks, it is so clear that we all treasured our time with him and I feel privileged he is my brother.
Our thoughts, our love and our support are with Liz.
Good bye Brother, we all love you and are going to miss you so much.