Frederick Albert Ball (30 May 1937 - 26 Dec 2015)

In loving memory of Frederick Albert Ball who sadly passed away at Medway Maritime Hospital on 26th December 2015 aged 78 years.

His funeral will take place on Tuesday 12th January, 1.15pm at Vinters Park Crematorium, Maidstone
(Bearsted Road, Weavering, Maidstone ME14 5LG.)

Call Julie or Peter on 01732 873162 if you need more information

Please light a candle for Fred at the bottom of this page

Tony Ball, Brother
I do not recall having a life without Fred being there. Only eighteen months between us in age. The very early part of our life our memories would be vague to say the least but grow up together we did. I don't think I would have wanted it any other way. I recall us being evacuated to a village called Leicester where we were put in separate accommodation to my mother she with Kenny, a babe in arms, our father away in the navy and at sea. Our accommodation was a large house with a large garden lawn surrounded by six foot high privet boundary. Behind which was multi fruit orchard, magnet for the likes of Fred but on entry to the house we were told that we ate in the kitchen with the cook and were not allowed to wonder the grounds outside of the lawn gardens. A red rag to a bull (Ball). Before going school it was my job to keep watch, whilst Fred crept into the orchard and filled our school bags with fruit, this went well for a few weeks until a teacher caught us selling to the other kids, from London and reported us to the house owner, we denied scrumping from the next door orchard and got away with it but was watched closely thereafter.
It was in this village whilst out in the woods with our newly formed London gang, which separated us from the locals, we captured a German parachutist.
Marching him proudly back to the village police station we were accosted by the local farmers who claimed the capture, for which we never forgave them and they suffered.
I was eight and Fred seven and we were marked down as ringleaders and we had a marvellous time dodging all sorts of people and sending the house owners mad.
My father came home on leave and saw how badly we were being treated for the few shilling our hosts were getting, packed us up and took us back to Bermondsey much to our delight.
Life began in earnest we had by our evacuation experience learnt how to take care of ourselves we had learnt at the age seven and eight to be men and not to be taken advantage of.
We went to live in Kent with the rest of the Ball family and branches thereof. Settling in Long field Hill our school had one class ages from eight to twelve, this turned out to be very interesting. Fred soon became the leading mischief making and his reputation held him in good stead for the rest of his life. Our cousins the Ashcroft's; Dinny, Norny and Mary, Uncle Dinny and Aunt Nora, we were very fond of. We went shooting with my uncle and his two dogs, Fred getting into trouble for riding on the pigs backs, we loved the country life but all good things had to stop I can't recall why they did this time.
We moved back to Dartford to go to a regular school with other cousins and there learning the Demi rural life away from the big smoke. All this time Fred grew up his own way and was his own man and always avoided getting into serious trouble, how I don't know!
We were returned to our own environment, back in Bermondsey and galley wall road school. We started boxing training with a professional trainer and would fight anyone at the drop of a hat. Many a time I had to finish because his opponent outweighed him so gradually a pattern formed. He would get us in to trouble and I would have to join in to get us out of it. So the Bermondsey Ball boy’s reputation expanded. Always, by luck not coming into the hands of the 'rosser'.

Growing up in this environment suited Fred and his outlook on life, no one would mess twice with him, once was enough to learn that you could be in serious danger.
Besides all the bad attitudes life was enjoyable and somewhat memorable. We had one another and were best of friends and when not fighting others we fought one another but the friendship between us never waned. In spite of this we were good Catholics serving as altar boys at St Joseph's Church in Bermondsey and father O’Brian who employed us to collect the offering from the church members who failed to attend on Sunday. We were eventually sacked as altar boys because we did not have shoes, our best shoes we kept for school so we wore Wellington boots and people complained so we left the church behind us and our voices changed along with our attitudes.
Our sizes we're obviously different but a hammer or any other instrument balanced that out, like the time I got the better of him in one of our many fights and he crowned me with a pick axe, mentally I wear the scars today. This became his trade mark.
Together we Liked Saturday mornings bunking into the pictures which Fred and I had down to a fine art. It would cost us six pence each to go but one of us would pay and enter and go to the toilet and open the emergency doors. One went to the toilet ten would come out.
When we got together we felt that we were invincible, like the day we were set upon by 10 to 15 youths from out of borough but close to home and we goaded them to chase us (idiots) down our street. (it was the habit there to put the empty milk bottles on the window ledge) the bottles we grabbed and threw them as we ran, this had two effects, made our pursuers mad and gathered up the local lads as we passed their houses so the trap was set and we were still invincible.
Life with Fred was never dull.
Eventually we parted, me into the army and Fred had gone to sea training at Greenwich. I came out the army and went to the dark side and joined the police force, I mention this because, it was whilst I was on duty at Peckham Police station that I received a call from South African police in Durban, “Say, do you have a brother Fred Ball because we have him custody here, what would you like us to do with him?" My reply was "Give-him a good hiding and send him back to me" which they did. He has never forgiven me for that.

My brother, my best friend. Whilst I was away doing my duty in the army taught my German wife to speak 'English,' only one third of the words he used you’d find in the English dictionary the other two thirds are buried in the London vocabulary. When I returned even l got embarrassed when asked in public what certain word’s meant.
Growing up we had a secret Irish philosophy;
"If I fall ill or are injured I worry, will I get better or die,
If I get better no worry, if I die I worry, will I go to heaven or hell,
if I go to heaven no worry, if I go to hell I will be so busy shaking hands with all my old friends I will have no time to worry"
So why worry,
If he does pass by hell my sympathy goes to the devil but they will soon send him to heaven where he belongs. For he married his best friend Colleen who showed him and kept him on the straight and narrow path all the rest of his life.
To say that we miss you is an understatement.