Fred

Just recently, my other half bought a book for me.  The occasion, if it can be called that, was my sixty-eighth birthday, not a cause for jubilation, you may say, but when you consider the alternative it could be worse.  Sadly, the author of this worthy piece did not make it past sixty-six, sadder still because he was one of my heroes.

Now, the selection of heroes is a very personal thing, of course.  One man's hero is another man's horse's arse, so to speak.  I am - obviously - fond of my heroes, although I willingly accept that others may not agree with my choice.   I have no problem with this, just as long as the insults don't get too personal.

However, I feel fairly confident that very few people would rubbish this particular hero, essentially because it would be difficult to find a man with less malice and arrogance in his soul, making him very, very difficult to dislike.

The book is called 'Did You Like That ?', and it was by the late and very much - lamented Fred Dibnah.  If Fred had have had a list of his ingredients stamped on him, that list would have contained many of the ones that had put the 'Great' in Great Britain.  Never an academic, Fred was tough, intelligent, modest and open.  He also had, by his own admission, somewhat Victorian values, and I suggest that may not be such a bad thing. He was not, of course, perfect ('er downstairs informs me that neither am I - a great surprise!), and his obsession with steam-engines was an award-winning marriage wrecker, as I suppose, are all obsessions.

He was a natural teacher, possessing all three of the essential requirements; he knew what he was on about, he had a tremendous enthusiasm, and that enthusiam was contagious.  He seemed to communicate in a way that many university lecturers can only envy.  He were a good lad, were Fred.

Just rambling thoughts on a good bloke really, but I miss him, because he was so essentially English - as comforting as a whistling kettle and Sunday tea.  I hope he's sitting on a great big chimney, with a pint of Guiness in his hand, watching the trains (steam, naturally), and chatting with some mates.

My first glimpse of Fred on TV was when a figure  emerged from a dust-cloud wearing a flat cap and a manic grin, asking "Did you like that?"

We did.