Sadly, after a long illness, my step-father, William Hart (1924-2012) passed away in his sleep at 6am in Belfast, today December 7. To say that 'he' was a very kind, honourable, selfless and giving Gentleman of 'the old school,' hardly does him justice.
Partial to a drop of Black Bush either in the glass or his porridge, along with his favoured buttermilk and his morning Daily Mail, he enjoyed life with his meals out, good wine, good company, travels to various parts of the world & cruises, his monthly meetings of former colleagues at'The Dinosaur Club' and when he was able, his bowls.
Bill enjoyed my homecomings to Ireland probably because it was an excuse to have an Ulster Fry for breakfast and have someone to share in a Guinness in the evening, but the 'craic' was always good and he would often regale me with a story from his childhood or younger days working on The Tyne and living in Northumberland in England.
As a young engineer in the 30's, from the Northeast of England (Northumberland) he would 'cycle' the 20 miles to work down on the River Tyne (Clarke Chapmans) to do a full day's work before cycling home again.
I remember his telling me of working on new types of torpedos for the Royal Navy at the Isle of Skye during WWII. Then later moving to Belfast to develop and build the Landing Craft that would be involved in the 'then anticipated' full scale military Invasion of Imperial Japan and its islands (which subsequently never happened).
He then worked at Sirocco Works in Belfast, developing & installing turbines for air conditioning for such places at London Underground and the QEII, to mention a few.
A member of the Arts Club in Belfast and Knock & Belmont Bowling Clubs, his easy manner and welcoming handshake won him many friends over the 88 years of his lifetime.
Never to be seen outside the house without a jacket, tie and trilby, he was the consummate 'old school' who 'cut a dash' wherever he ventured.
He will be very much missed by his friends and families and leaves a great chasm of emptiness in the lives of those who knew and loved him and had the privilidge of being touched by the sincerity of this gentle giant of a Gentleman from Cramlington. But he also has left a lasting warm glow in the beating hearts of those of us who were lucky enough to be a part of this lovely man's life.
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Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone,
Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone,
Silence the pianos and with muffled drum
Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.
Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead
Scribbling on the sky the message He Is Dead,
Put crepe bows round the white necks of the public doves,
Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves.
-WH AUDEN
