Richard Barton (26 Jul 1947 - 3 Aug 2020)

I had the great pleasure of working with Richard at Esso. He was a fine, gentle man. The tributes which have been paid demonstrate how loved and well thought of he was. The pictures show a life lived to the full. My deepest condolences to his family and wide circle of friends. We will miss him.

With memories of a colleague but most importantly a friend.

We met in 1973 as colleagues with Esso & maintained close contact through retirement when he bravely rang me in late June 2020 to relate the sudden health problem. As usual Richard was calm & unruffled that was a hallmark of his life at work and in retirement. There was almost no challenge in life that Richard failed to overcome, hence we held him in high esteem as he was generous with his time to assist, guide or just chat.

Ironically hill-walking was a common pleasure, our last walk was some years ago that was to Pen-y-ghent from Horton via Helwith Bridge & Plover Hill. The first swallows were arriving & were talking flies from the Ribble. A delightful day & a fitting memory.

Visiting Granny and Grandad was always a treat when we were younger. It came with many hours of playing in our den - which Grandad carefully maintained through the years along with the rest of his garden - picking apples to eat or turn into crumble, and ‘helping’ to collect the endless number of golf balls he scattered for us. We were far better at this than the actual sport when he took us for a go – unfortunately none of us inherited that talent. The Easter eggs he masterfully hid could also be found throughout the year, as there were far too many hiding places for us to keep up with.

Walking around the Dales has also always been a large part of staying with Granny and Grandad. Whether we were practicing navigating or being directed purely by his extensive familiarity with the area, it was always an adventure, especially clambering up Gordale Scar en route to Malham Cove. During walks, he was always ready with things to tell us, whether interesting titbits about the history of the Dales, or ‘facts’ about the trolls that lived in the caves and the special sheep with longer legs for the downslope, and always had friendly words ready for any passers-by.

Grandad was memorable for his encyclopaedic knowledge of an eclectic range of subjects – he was unbeatable in Trivial Pursuit, and was particularly passionate about the music he enjoyed. Songs often came with stories and facts, and occasionally a warning to not listen to the ruder lyrics! Their exotic holidays spawned many other stories and pictures about the places they visited and the people they met. We have many memories of listening to recollections over his Sunday roast, a looked forward to event on every visit.

Our Grandad was very loved, and he will be deeply missed.

Sarah, your eulogy is beautiful, and is the best legacy anyone could hope for.
I’m so sorry for your very sad loss, and am sending my love to you all xxx

Happy childhood memories with cousin Richard.

Since first meeting Richard in the 70's as a colleague in Esso, when he and Ann moved to West Yorkshire, I have been privileged to enjoy his friendship for which I will always be grateful we had some good times together. Despite my moving around, along with retirement, we managed to keep in touch, now he has taken from us all so suddenly, yet he always seemed so young! Our thoughts are with Ann, David and Sarah.

Richard will be sadly missed by his many friends but he has left us with a heap of good memories

I was so sad to hear of Richard's passing. He was known as Dick when I knew him at Liverpool university where we shared digs for 2 years, a short sojourn at the David Lewis hostel and then a shared house. We played squash, swam and played bridge. We also attended lectures and did practical chemistry in the laboratories. We sank the occasional pint and in later years moved on to wine.
I knew him as a lovely guy while we were at Liverpool and after. Now I read the obituaries and tributes I realise what a truly special guy he was. Glad to hear that he still loved the poet Robert Zimmerman or as we knew him, Bob Dylan.
Love to Ann, Sarah and David.

It is wonderful to see the comments and Sarah's Eulogy, those of us who have enjoyed his company would relate to them all. I was priveleged to have known Richard since the 70's when he and Ann moved to West Yorkshire, working as a colleague. In those early days we spent some good times together and despite my subsequent moves away and eventual retirement was always delighted to keep in contact with someone who was a true friend and now very sad that it can be no more.

We couldn't attend Richard's funeral so this morning we took roses from our gardens and placed them on Richard's parents' grave at Somersby church. We spent some time reflecting on a very happy childhood in which Richard played a large part. This includes summers spent picking potatoes, droving beast and creosoting chicken huts! Although Richard moved away from Lincolnshire he never forgot his roots, although he settled in Yorkshire, we will always remember him as a 'yellow- belly'. Richard was always a very kind and thoughtful friend.
Our thoughts are with Ann and her family.
Christine, Helen and Susan, The Roberts family.

Sorry to have lost a good friend and neighbour.

Eulogy for Dad

To his family, my Dad was a very special husband, dad and grandad; but over the last two weeks I have come to realise what a special friend he was to a whole host of people from the many heart-felt messages of condolence that we have received.
When thinking about my Dad, the most important element of his life was family. Whatever our childhood interests, they became his own. He must have spent many hours driving us to music lessons and sitting in numerous halls enjoying music of varying quality. In my teenage years, we went to music concerts from both of our times such as Eric Clapton and Dire Straits as well as jazz and classical groups. He was always happy to help with school work and with his excellence in Chemistry, and his patient enthusiasm, I thoroughly understood the gas laws, after our series of kitchen sink experiments. Dad and David were both avid sportsmen and spectators. When David joined the village cricket team, Dad’s passion for the sport extended to coaching junior teams. As a teenage boy, David was lucky enough to reap the benefits of Dad’s Esso perks, enjoying matches from the comfort of the executive box at Old Trafford football ground, but always supporting the away team. They made a great father-son team every weekend playing golf and taking part in club competitions. Aside from all of these activities, Dad was also the family cook and loved nothing more than having the whole family together to enjoy a banquet of homemade curry or a delicious Sunday dinner.
I cannot talk about Dad without mentioning the pride which he was famous for. His recent pride in mum’s bowling and bridge prowess, and his pride in the various achievements of me, David and his five grandchildren. This pride didn’t leave him, when even in the last week of his life he was overwhelmed by Alex’s outstanding school report. When accompanying Dad to the Colne Blues Festival, it took me back to my own childhood, when Kate, my oldest daughter, was proudly introduced to a group of aging men with complete mortification, as they strangely seemed to know every last detail of her musical and academic achievements.

His interest in education was all-encompassing. After all, his own education at the local grammar school, then on to Liverpool University gave him choices. Instead of the inevitability of a farming life in the deepest depths of Lincolnshire, he had a well-travelled life based in his beloved Yorkshire dales working for Esso which later became ExxonMobil. He was an avid reader of a wealth of books from histories to novels to biographies. Whatever the topic under discussion, Dad always seemed to know the underlying facts (this was sometimes annoying when discussing politics). His memory was amazing. I have been to many pub quizzes with Mum, Dad, and their friends Val and Stuart, where he has been able to pluck a fact from a distant memory such as a character from a book he probably read 40 years ago or an ancient cricket statistic.
David has already spoken about the generous time and effort that Dad put into his community. He was a loyal man in whom friends could put their trust. The many comments in cards have referred to him as a smashing chap, a decent bloke, a great guy. When a bridge friend moved to Manorlands hospice, Dad was a daily visitor until the very end. He never took on a role in a superficial way: he wanted to make a genuine difference to his community. He had the strength to stand up for what he believed in, knowing that these actions may not always make him popular. Particularly for the people who didn’t have a strong or confident voice. He said to me once “I want to do what is right, I‘m not here to be liked”. He took his duties seriously: such as when taking his much younger sister-in-law Rhian on our family camping holidays: one night on her later return than had been agreed, without thinking of the Anglo-French consequences, he went out in his pants on a search for her until she was discovered.
His oldest friend Christine, described his 21st birthday celebrations. Typical of Dad, during his big day, he thought of others. Instead of a party gathering, he took a basket of beer round to every home in his small village and shared a beer with every member of the community.
Dad was a passionate fan of music. Having browsed through his ipod this week, I was surprised at the broad spectrum. Martin, Frank and Judy, friends from university all recalled his wide record collection. I remember him playing Jazz piano such as St James Infirmary by Thelonious Monk and Alice’s Restaurant by Woody Guthrie. Summer holidays were defined by Neil Young tapes accompanying our journeys through France. And it seems that modern music was not all derivative (a phrase he often used in my house when listening to music he didn’t approve of) as he had lots of Bruce Springsteen and even some Guns and Roses. He became more willing to embrace new music as he got older. My brother was astonished to be told recently that Noel Gallagher is a musical genius. And of course Bob Dylan. This particular love was not shared by many of his family, which I empathise with because mine isn’t either. Dad was a regular at the Bronte Blues Club until its demise, and at home, he continuously experimented on his own guitar, preferring the finger-picking blues style.
The Yorkshire Dales, where Dad has chosen to make his home as an adopted Yorkshire man is another love of his. His regular walking trips with a groups of friends, hiking up and down hills and over moors remind me of Last of the Summer Wine, a show we used to watch when I was young. Which of the three he was, I am not sure. Probably Foggy, as he always had a story to tell. He was an ambitious and adventurous walker, keen to take part in longer walks such as the Dales Way or the Three Peaks – the proper Yorkshire one.

When choosing which route to take in order to pass the obstacle of Gordale Scar, he would always suggest climbing straight up, to the delight of any children on our walk. At the start of his retirement, he fulfilled his walking dream, organising two treks of the Himalayan Annapurna range for a group of friends including Harry and John, who are here today.
Although I have described Dad as quite a serious person, he also had a humorous side, a dry humour, and took great pleasure in life, living it to the full. He often recounted his first date with Mum. He regretted his choice of a cinema trip to see Cat Balou with Jane Fonda and Lee Marvin, during which he laughed until the tears were streaming down his cheeks throughout the film. Unfortunately, it seems she did not share this enjoyment of slapstick comedy. Luckily, she gave him a second chance.
I have heard some lovely stories from others, such as the time he bought his first car, whilst at Liverpool University, a Wolseley 1500. After much merry-making with friends, during an end of term Ball, it was suggested that they drive in his new car to North Wales and see the sun rise over Snowdon. It was an unforgettable experience.
Dad was a lifelong supporter of Grimsby Town Football Club. His loyalty never wavered despite the fact that being a supporter of the Mariners was a rollercoaster ride. David says it is a distressing memento of his Dad to be a Grimsby fan-for-life. Although, the peaks made the angst worthwhile. I wish I had witnessed the sight of Dad jumping up and down on his chair, ecstatically waving a giant blow-up Harry Haddock, when Grimsby won at their first ever Wembley match, a league trophy against Bournemouth. His enthusiasm for life was exemplified during his 15 years of retirement, during which time, he and Mum travelled the globe, experiencing many unforgettable sights such as the Iguazu Falls in South America, the red city of Petra in Jordan, the Northern Lights (which turned out to be quite disappointing), pilgrimages to the home of his favourite music, the delta blues, and his highlights of India and Namibia.
The most frequent words that people have used to describe Dad have been dignified and honourable. He certainly showed true dignity and bravery in his final days. Despite his relatively young diagnosis and rapid decline, he never complained or made a fuss, probably hiding his true suffering to protect us. Misquoting his favourite poem, “Do not go gentle into that good night” by Dylan Thomas in his typically dry or even black humour, he explained to friends that he was going gentle into that good night. The next big excursion was going to be a rail trip around China. Many times, he expressed his satisfaction that he had ticked off all of the places on his bucket list and “never wanted to go to China anyway”.
We’ll all miss you Dad.

Dick’s life was beautifully lived filled with love and devotion, fun, laughter, adventures and friendship.
We are so glad to have been part of this life for so long .
Our deepest condolences

The boundaries which divide life from death are at best shadowy and vague. Who shall say where the one ends, and where the other begins?"

Dick will be hugely missed, he was a kind man of great integrity who introduced me to the delights of Italy many years ago for that I shall be always grateful.
Never to be forgotten

Thank you for all your hard work for Silsden Park Bowling Club

Richard will be sadly missed, our deepest sympathy goes to Ann and all of the family.

In memory of Richard, a dear brother in law.
‘When the person you are closest to is gone, hold on to their memories and know they are always with you’
Thinking about you all at this very sad time.

In loving memory of Richard, a dear brother in law.
‘When the person you are closest to is gone, hold on to their memories and know they are always with you’

Yourly be sadly missed

Richard was one of the best, if not the best. Stuart R