Tribute from Clive Bates
Good morning everybody. I’m going to start with the greatest struggle of my Dad’s life – actually, it wasn’t against heart disease, it wasn’t against Microsoft and IBM, it wasn’t even against the Conservative party. No, the greatest struggle of my dad’s life was against a tent. Not just any tent, it was a sprawling frame tent with a life of its own we used for our first camping holiday. It was so complicated that no human being could ever assemble it properly. In a light breeze, it would dance, flap and taunt us hapless campers, frightening the children, and upsetting everyone. And David would go into battle against it – and it was man-versus-tent – an epic struggle of blood sweat and tears... mostly sweat.
But he would eventually triumph – probably not in the way the tent makers had intended – but always in a way that was good enough. Good enough for us to have those brilliant first holidays out in the fresh air by the sea. And that’s what he was like – no struggle was too great, no mission too impossible and no hill too hard to climb - he would do anything for us, anything for his family. David was a brilliant father to Moira, Gavin and me, and he was Pat’s devoted husband of 50 years. He was many things – but above all he was a big man, and especially he was a big family man. We adored him. We absolutely adored him.
He was a big man in the computer business too. He was up with the dawn of the information age. It was when mighty Atlas computers could fill a huge room and dim the lights of a small city – the era of punch cards, spinning tapes, and beeping screens – the time of men in sharp suits and white coats, women in bee-hives and conical bras. He was in there at the beginning at one of the most exciting times that industry has ever known - and he stayed there all his working life – with Sperry, with Honeywell and then with his own creation, MCL.
To be honest, he was also quite annoying when it came to computers in his retirement. He loved the free computer programs you get on those disks that come with computer magazines. It was as if no free program was too obscure or useless that it wasn’t installed on his computer… which was a so full of stuff it barely functioned. Over 50 years, Pat and David had evolved a pretty strict division of labour in their marriage: and it was David did the computers. Pat would never touch the things. But now, that will be changing! And so Gavin is training her up to use e-mail and the internet. So we can announce today, that Pat will be on-line shortly. (and in case you are wondering, it’s Pat dot Bates at Ymail dot com).
He was a big man in other ways too… he loved a big car – always an automatic, he had big appetites for good food, good wine, and good company. He loved conversation and banter - and frankly he had a terrific razor wit. He was great fun on holiday - I can still picture Moira aged about 4 being carried on his shoulders with her hands over his eyes in a mad race – he looked huge and she just looked tiny and incredibly excited. He had a big mind too - he loved arguing and discussion – he had a view on just about everything. He was political, but not a dull party follower – he really cared about the issues and ideas. He was a larger than life character, and literally too…I think he peaked at 18 stone.
In doing these kind of tributes, you are supposed to leave the things that might bring you to tears till the end. And so we have reached that point in this tribute to David. Yes, time to talk about football. In about 1971, me and my dad started going to Old Trafford with our season tickets. It was the tail end of the Busby era – but we still saw Law, Charlton and Best. George Best – we just absolutely idolised him, like a magician, dancing through the opposition, chipping the goalie – ball seemingly stuck to his foot. I loved those times: it was all relegation battles, hopeless managers, FA Cup dramas, Tommy Docherty, the grumpy old men behind us, and eventually a beer at Wilmslow rugby club afterwards. But the main thing was being out there with my dad. It was more than just football for me – and it still is. In fact just about the last thing I said to him – a couple of weeks back now - was to remind him of a very special Best goal. His face just lit up.
So I must finish now. The final thing I want to say is about his death. He was very ill in 1998 and almost died – he fought back and lived a good life for another 12 years – that’s time we think of as a bonus and he and Pat did a lot in those years. When he did eventually pass away, it was peaceful, it was dignified and it was at home. Above all for him, he had his dear wife, Pat, close by. That really is how he wanted it. And that’s how it happened. So let’s not be too gloomy…
Thanks so much for coming. Seeing you all here today, I’m sure David would have wished he was coming down to the Lord Clyde for a glass or two afterwards. I guess we’ll just have to take our memories of him with us instead. Thank you.
