Roy McGrath Penney (19 Aug 1923 - 24 Dec 2015)

We’ve said our goodbyes to both Dad and Mum; in doing so we have shared many stories and memories, but I want to share just two more of Dad:-

Sue made allusion at Dad’s service to our family trips to country churches, where we were occasionally referred to as “Penney Von Trappe”, largely on account of the musical instruments we brought with us and played to accompany hymns. Dad of course had been invited to preach, but always tried to involve us in taking parts of the service(s). However, I recall one occasion when the rusty blue Bedford family van broke down, about 1 mile short of our destination in Cripplestyle. We had run out of fuel, but as the gauge didn’t work anyway, assessing residual supply in the tank at any time had relied on Dad’s imperfect memory. Although this happened in the days of no mobile phones, we were fortunately passed by one church member on their way to the planned service. She went ahead to pass on the news to Wilfred Foster, the octogenarian who ran the church. Being a resourceful man, Wilfred came to our rescue with jerrycan of fuel (remember – petrol stations used to be closed on Sundays). I shall never forget Wilfred’s somewhat bemused and quizzical expression when he said, in a slow and thick Dorset accent, “I don’t know Roy, you may be good at preaching, but you aren’t much good with cars”.

Paula also reminded us (below) of the cricket match between Wimborne and Moordown Baptist Churches. Dad was the captain of Wimborne and Robert Amess the same for Moordown; we won the toss and put Moordown into bat. As Paula said Dad took a number of the wickets with gentle off spinners, mostly caught on the boundary, and we got them out for about 110. Andy and I then opened the batting for Wimborne, and we had reached a stand of more than 40, before Dad (umpiring at that point), gave me out leg before to Amess for 19. I looked at him aghast before reluctantly walking. Andy went onto make 28, but Dad came in later and went onto score 40 not out. With one wicket remaining and scores level, Dad was due to face the next Moordown bowler. However, Robert Amess approached him (with a slight hint of gamesmanship in the air) and suggested that they had run out of time and that the match should be drawn with a tied score. Dad magnanimously agreed but I was furious with him for not taking the chance to win the match. Also, when I asked him why he had given me out to a ball that pitched outside off and hit the pad while I was attempting a pull shot (i.e. don’t you know the LBW rule?!), he simply countered with that mischievous twinkle of his “well why didn’t you just hit the ball?”

That sums him up in more ways than one
A generous man with an eye for fun
I’ll miss him loads, and am just so glad
Roy Penney was my special Dad

In memory of a very good neighbour.

Some reasons to thank Grampy:

1) Cricket coaching, I could never get the hang of batting like he could in his prime, but my bowling got me into a few teams and that was a testament to his teaching.

2) The humour, he could always make me smile. Particularly when the reaction he was chasing was achieved from his target (usually Mum or Granny) then the glint in his eye as he winked at me like it was our little game! Then when it was my turn to be wound up he pushed it far enough so that it toughened me up for future social scenarios. A true lasting impression. Also for calling Uncle Richard "Baby" over dinner in response to the pet name used by Richard and Sue at the time, I guess you had to be there but very funny!

3) Family values, he was never too busy, always ready to put down what he was doing for anyone in the family ever since I can remember. His family was always his first reason to give thanks.

4) Lessons in selective hearing, he was the grand master.

5) Driving, not only did he drive me back and forth from a great many church club meetings and school runs, he gave me valuable driving advice. "Always change up into the highest gear as soon as you can to save fuel" and "if you hit it fast enough, you can coast all the way down this hill, over the bridge, down Poole road and into the drive without using any pedals...but you have to be going pretty fast!". I believe these are now standard forewords in every copy of the Highway Code.

6) Resolution, life was not always easy for Grampy, but he managed 92 years packed with great achievements and many stories. With a great many years of unwavering dedication to his faith, his wife, his family and his values, he was an example to anyone.

You will be truly missed Grampy for many more reasons than the above, thank you for being such an important influence to me, and to so many others that knew you.

I remember Roy's warm smile as he greeted me each Thursday and welcomed me into the home that he and his beloved Frances shared.

I only knew Roy in his latter years but the memories he recounted to me of times throughout his life helped me to realise what a caring, gentle and charming man he was.

One memory he shared was of a time when, as a young lad, his mother had enlisted his services towards running errands and helping an elderly disabled lady. He admitted that he often found the work tedious and sometimes very unpleasant, however, he did, of course, remember appreciating the monetary reward! Reflecting back on this he would express his gratitude for the valuable character building life lessons that he learnt. Those lessons, no doubt helped shaped the compassionate and charming gentleman that I knew as Roy Penney.

My lasting memories of Roy will always be centred around the genuine warmth and love that he showed to everyone. The warmth that he (and Frances) showed to me when I was saved as an 18-year old was the same warmth and love that they showed to mum and dad when we moved Moordown, and the same warmth that they showed to Gran and Granddad when they came to visit, and later to Granddad after they moved to Bournemouth and Gran died.

We went through a period in Moordown where several youngsters came to the Lord and began attending prayer meetings, and I always looked forward to Roy's prayers of thanksgiving and his bounding over to the youngsters to encourage them and welcome them. It was always so genuine, his beaming face always told you how he felt!

At Frances' funeral a few weeks ago Steve Ellis was very gently introducing people to Roy outside the crematorium. Roy didn't recognise me, but when Steve said 'Roy this is Andy' a smile spread across his face, 'Andy, this is a lovely surprise' he said. This just underlined the person that he was, even in ill health and sorrow, his default reaction was loving and warm. That will be my final memory of him.

We live in a world now where things and people seem to be becoming increasingly more fleeting and transient, but as a young (ish!) person I think about Roy and the example that he set, loving and serving his saviour for 85 years, married and devoted to Frances for over 60 years. There is no greater testimony than that.

The words which have sprung to my mind most over the last few weeks when I think of my dear Grampy are 'warmth' and 'joy'. During every visit home I was met with both, and it was always a genuine and heartfelt greeting.

I was always grateful for his constant presence in the family home as we grew up. The little twinkle in his eye when he joked and smiled (and teased Mum, which I know wasn't always appreciated!!) was a wonderful way of connecting with him as a child.

Hearing and him sing in church is something that will never leave me. I usually sat behind him in church and would often watch him "make a joyful noise unto the Lord".

I will forever say the word "pizza" with Grampy's accent and pronunciation (pit-zerr!), and will always have far too much cream with desserts ..... after all, apparently there is no such thing as too much cream!

He will be so terribly missed but he is now free of pain, suffering and confusion. In the words of A. A. Milne, "How lucky I am to have something that makes saying goodbye so hard".

One of my earliest memories of dad is watching him play cricket whilst sitting at the edge of the field. I didn't always appreciate spending Saturday afternoons in this way! He taught us to play leaning over us holding the bat with his hands over ours.
A far more important memory is of watching him pray. In a house where there were six children, often demanding attention and making a fair amount of noise, I couldn't understand how he could concentrate, but he could. Communicating with his Lord was very important to him.
Possibly my most lasting memory was when our brother Stephen died. Dad and Mum were out when the telephone message came and I had to tell them what had happened when they returned. He was quiet for a moment and then said, 'The Lord gave and the Lord hath taken away. Blessed be the name of the Lord', a direct quote from Job 1 verse 21. Even in that moment of extreme sadness, he acknowledged that 'all things work together for good to them that love God, to them who are called according to his purpose'. (Romans 8:28)
In dad's eyes, serving God was the most important thing that we can ever do.
He developed Alzheimer's in his eighties and he struggled when Mum went to glory in November, just seven weeks before him. He is now out of pain and is singing the praise of the God he had served since he was seven. I really hope he already knows the tenor and can remember the words!