Firsts are hard – tonight’s first - a sort of normal Friday was hard – it was a very weird Friday night though many of the elements could of made up a normal Friday night. BUT we are now the other side of a Friday. So that’s good – thanks Gilly.

Valetting the car was just too difficult probably not helped by having the dog with us. So we gave up and went IPWD (In Park With Dog). We had a good laugh over the hardback, second-hand copy of the Scottish Highlanders – I’m looking forward to reading it – seems to have a lot of pictures of crofts and crofters!

Rob is now hoovering out the car and I am in a bit of a ‘this time last week’ loop, but Gilly and I are going to the pub later aiming for the talking/laughing/crying/curry combo.

I do feel I’m a very lucky person - I am sad that Chris has gone but I have had such a lovely life with him - I can’t not but know how lucky I am.

I’m obviously going through a ‘Blessing counting’ phase of bereavement, probably something to do with my visitors this morning and memories of last Friday.

I had a visit this morning by some of the WP Team. It was lovely to see them. I am beginning to recognise that the world does go on. Don’t feel ready yet to get too involved but I can see a time when I will be able to. Which is good.

The postman came with the book I ordered from Amazon, which strangely enough was a hardback secondhand book about Scottish Highlanders. This came as a real surprise - I order another one at the same time so I await with anticipation to see what else turns up!

Rob’s been round and we sorted some clothes. He’s now clearing out the car and we will take it to be valetted. He met Stella in the pub last night and she said; “It doesn’t get any harder.” Which is good.

Jimmy’s friend Richard came round last night and got the microphone working on the computer so I spoke to Renata in Varazdin this morning. Dejan is an Astrophysicist!

My life at the moment is full of firsts and like the first time you do anything each has their own uniqueness. I haven’t yet found any of them unconquerable but I suppose that is what I’m doing now, pacing myself and only tackling the things that I think I can manage. Firsts and lasts are also inextricably inter-twined as the first time you do anything is also the last time you wont have done it.

Kipper had a first and last today – it was the first time he rode in the little car and the last. I drove over and dropped it off outside Gilly’s, as a surprise. Then I walked back with the dog through Sefton Park. The storms of yesterday had left it looking good in the morning sunshine. I also saw a yellow wagtail, a bird I don’t remember ever having seen in the park before.

It was the first time Cathy had been round since Chris died and we had a very special cup of coffee together. It was also the first time I had been to water aerobics through the thoughtfulness of a neighbour. As I swam in the pool I remembered the last time, which was with Sue around the bay in Mirca. That was a lovely memory.

Even though I slept last night I am tired, Rob and I just yawned all afternoon but that is probably just our bodies catching up with ourselves.

I sold the little car to Gilly last night and the buyer and seller were both very pleased with the deal. We then sat in the garden and drank wine and did the talk/laugh/cry combo for a very peaceful couple of hours.

New radio clock is great – the numbers are enormous. I tried to tune it into Radio 4 this morning and couldn’t but with Jimmy’s help finally managed it.

Chris used to listen to the radio all the time, Radio 4 during the day and the World Service during the night. Some nights he would get very little sleep with the nagging, wearisome pain. He would sometimes be grumpy in the mornings but he never complained, it was part of his life. Both things pain and Radio 4/the World Service.

The time before the funeral I didn’t listening to the radio but as I lay in bed early last Tuesday I decided to switch on Chris’s radio – it was Bob Dylan singing “Knock, knock knocking on Heaven’s door’. I thought this can’t be Radio 4 but then I heard John Humphrey’s voice – the piece was about the most popular pieces of music to be played at funerals.

Our task for last Tuesday was to choose the music for Chris’s funeral.

So today Jim and I have just been and bought a little CD/radio for next to my bed. I chose the one that had the largest clock display so I will be also able to tell the time!

Today is the day that I get the hand controls taken out of both cars. I have just taken the big one round to Double S Motors. They were lovely with me and just took the keys off me without expecting me to speak - thanks Gilly.

I then took the dog to Sefton Park and walked round the back of the cricket pitch. It reminded me of last Friday and how Aziz and Jamal got a football and started playing on the pitch. Within minutes it was full of a gang of young men and boys all playing the universal game of park football.

This then led to my recalling how Jeanette and I had played for the Vandyke Dolly Birds. It was the summer of 1974. I was working in Derwent House Remand Home and a girl who had absconded was playing for the opposite team!




I then walked through an avenue of beech trees and listened to the rain and thought about Jan who died in 1995.

I then thought about how I love this blogg knowing that some of you will share some of these memories and are even in the photo!

Time now to take the little car to the garage. Chris only had the hand controls fitted whilst I was in New York last month. It will be funny to drive a car without them.

Another early start – this time to comfort a completely terrified dog through this thunder storm – he’s sitting next to me now shaking uncontrollably. He’s trying to crawl under the desk and the last time he did this, with Chris, he chewed through the mains cable to the computer! I’m typing with one hand and holding Kipper with the other.

I have just read two wonderful emails – it is so lovely to find them waiting for me. They will get me through another day. Thank you.

The third postman brought a card from a woman who understands and she wrote:

Grieve at your own Pace
Heal in your own Time

This is a good one for today as I keep feeling that I should be alright, back to normal and I’m not. The boys aren’t and some of you aren’t either.

We should all:

Grieve at our own Pace
Heal in our own Time

Later when the doorbell rang and it was the postman, it still wasn’t the books from Amazon but flowers from Jersey. From my Mum and Dad. They are on holiday there at the moment.

My Dad is 89 and my Mum is 86 and they will have been married 60 years on the 2nd of November 2006. They met in Germany at the end of the second world war.

I love this photo is of my parents walking together in the spring of this year.

Two weeks ago today

Today started weirdly. I had gone to bed last night very tired but awoke in the early hours and struggled to get back to sleep. When I did get back to sleep I was woken up at 8.30 by the door bell. Jumping out of bed I looked out of the window and saw the postman. As I’m waiting from a book from Amazon I shot downstairs but when I opened the front door he had gone.

I stood on the path shouting ‘Hello’ because I knew he couldn’t be far away. I looked at my watch and realised that I was standing in the garden in my pyjamas shouting ‘Hello’ at shadows and it was 6.30. This was the time Chris stopped breathing two weeks ago today.

Chris had many good friends as last Friday showed. However one man Chris was particularly fond of was Paul. We had all been on holiday together this summer sharing a house with the ‘Independent travelling boys’ on the island of Brac. Chris and Paul had a beautiful easiness with each other and they could sit and discuss the finer details of a Swiss army pen knife for many a happy hour or three!

This is Paul with his particularly fine binoculars looking over the coast beyond Split.

Monday morning

Not unchanged but still strong - will be the motto of today and maybe for the rest of my life!

I love this blogg as it gives me a way to order my thoughts and I also know that it is appreciated by the readers.

I am alone in the house today and thought I would be lonely but then technology and the post office remind me that I’m not!

This is hard.

I have been for a run in Sefton Park this morning – which was really good. There was a 5k run on so I didn’t go my normal route which was also good. Alex has gone back to Leeds today and Rob will be going home this evening. We are starting the process of re-entering the real world.

Sitting around the table and eating, talking, laughing, drinking, arguing and enjoying ourselves has always been at the very heart of this family and house. Sitting around our table is also a shared memory that so many people have.

Yesterday the Jenkins’s and Gilly forced ourselves to sit around the table for the first time since Chris died. It was very hard but we did it. We ate Spaghetti Bolognese. It was Alex’s birthday and it was also the start of our new lives without Chris.

Chris’s legacy includes the strength of this family. That meal wasn’t a lot of fun but we all know that future ones will be happier.

The next day

Well that was yesterday and today is today.

The service was beautiful and I think people were surprised by how much my boys and I laughed. We ended up with a house full of dear friends including lots of young men and drank far too much and continued laughing until way into the early hours. Chris would have approved.

Chris's memorial service

Entrance Music: Begala e Vena by the Bulgarian Women’s Choir


We meet here today to honour and say farewell to Chris Jenkins who died suddenly last week at the age of just 55. My Name is Bill Dawson and as a member of the British Humanist Association I have been asked to lead this ceremony for Chris. This will not be a religious ceremony as that would not be in accord with Chris’s own views on life. There will be time in the ceremony to have your own moment of personal reflection; those with a religious belief can use this time for silent prayer if you so wish.

Death takes from us the people we have relied on, the people who are important to us and the people who we love. But what death cannot take from us is the time we have had. Your relationship with Chris will never be lost. To compensate for the grief of losing Chris, you have had the privilege of knowing him. Chris did not live on this planet as a shadow but as a man that touched you and his touch left an impression, a tangible impression that will be with you all for the rest of your lives. And so Chris will live on through you. The ripples of his life will continue to touch, in known and unknown ways, those of us here and those who have yet to be born. I did not have the pleasure of meeting Chris but having heard about him from his wife and sons that is definitely my loss. Let us now remember and celebrate Chris’s life.

Chris was born on the 19th of October 1950 in Newcastle. Both his parents were teachers and his mother was 47 when she became pregnant. They were busy people and after only three months at home with Chris his mother returned to work.

From the age of three months Chris had two childhoods one with his childminder Aunty Calendar – this was the warm and cuddly one. The other was with his parents – this the more formal one in Jarrow during the week and weekends walking in Northumbria. Chris always felt an affinity for Northumberland.

Chris was a bright child and gained a place at the Newcastle Grammar School. He also had a gift for music and attended a music school on Saturdays. It was one of these Saturdays, when Chris was 13 1/2, he was late and the train was just pulling away from the platform. The guard told him to jump on board. Chris did but he fell and slipped under the train.

Chris woke up in Newcastle General a double amputee. He was not expected to live. They didn’t know Chris! 6 months after the accident Chris was walking on prosthetic pylons. This was a hard and painful process. His parents were not the sort of people who thought molly coddling was a good idea and so would force him to persevere. Yes this was a harsh approach but it made Chris the man he was.

Chris returned to school. It was during his A levels that Chris’s father died. Chris and his father were not close when he died and Chris always regretted that he had not been closer to his father. He was determined that if he were ever a father he would be a good and loving one.

On leaving school Chris went down to Nottingham to undertake a degree in Agriculture. He enjoyed the social side of things here, releasing pigs in the girl’s dorm and the like, but agriculture was not really for him. He looked around for another degree and plumped for Psychology at the University of Liverpool. That was 35 years ago last week. It was here he met Trish and Trish will share some memories of Chris with us a bit later.

In 1974, Chris gained his degree and decided that Edinburgh was the place to go mainly because he wanted to play in a band there. Trish got a teaching job and Chris ended up working in various welfare rights projects, work he really enjoyed.

With his son Robert’s arrival in 1977 Chris and Trisha’s little house got smaller. They returned to Liverpool and were soon ensconced in Cheltenham Avenue. Chris got work for Halewood Community Council. He then moved to Liverpool Community College to teach Welfare Rights, Law and Psychology. The job kept him busy but he still had time to obtain a Masters in Education.

Chris’s son Alex was born in 1983 and Jimmy in 1990 – but more of fatherhood later. Chris’s job became more mundane, focussing just on psychology – Chris was someone who needed variety. He couldn’t go up the greasy pole of management either, as that was never his way. Nor was pandering to the whims of Little Hitlers as he would call them.

Throughout his time at college Chris had had a massive impact on many young peoples lives by being a gifted teacher with a perfectionists touch. Chris began to tire wearing his heavy legs week in week out and five years ago he took voluntary redundancy.

And these five years have been happy times for Chris.

So how did he fill his days?

For a start Chris registered to do his Skippers License – he reckoned it was his proudest achievement when he received it. He knew everything anyone needed to know about flags, clouds and knots. He got it because he wanted the basic skills needed to pilot a powerboat whilst on holiday but ended up with a qualification that would enable him to captain a trawler!

Chris also did some part time teaching and for the last three years he worked as a moderator for the Open College Network. He said it was money for old rope. A hundred days a year, time to fit, perfect.

Chris now got into cooking. He was a happy man planning his weekly menu. Occasionally he would have a week of menus using food none of the family had eaten before!

Now onto Chris’s family life; Let us start with one of the disappointments Chris had being a parent – he couldn’t hold his sons but could not carry them in his arms. It didn’t stop him doing his share of parental duties though. He would do it in his unique way, for instance; One of his son’s would be in the pram whilst Chris would lasso it back and forth. He particularly enjoyed having sons. Chris would often read to them Captain Pugwash and Roahld Dahl being two favourites, which he delivered, complete with voices.

His lads also fondly remember listening to him playing on bass, violin or sax with Strad and Hef, the Rabid Cats in the front room every Wednesday evening.

Chris and his family also travelled a lot Chris would be dropped off in a bar the kids on the beach then they’d meet up again and it was usually Chris who had had the more interesting time with the locals. One of the most memorable holidays was when they drove down to Spain in their new Nissan Prairie. The Spanish children had never seen anything like it and called it El Coche Futeristico – futuristic car. They stayed in a house above a pig sty – as you do. The boys were 1,6 and 13. Whilst Jimmy toddled, Alex ran through the fields and Robert was chased by the girls. Chris would often be in the bar just around the corner. One night Trish went looking for Chris only to discover him comparing scars with the bull gored locals – Chris’s were obviously the most impressive.

Chris was also a devoted son to his mother. She too had moved to Liverpool and he would visit her every week until her death at the age of 96. Chris’s death was more sudden last week through a brain haemorrhage.

But let us not dwell on his death but rather remember the vibrant Chris; The man who had an eclectic taste and passion for music. He would often make compilations for friends first on tape and more recently on CD. It could be anything from Mongolian throat music to elephant orchestras from rockabilly to Kitsch Eurovision.

Remember Chris the cook. His kitchen table was the heart of the house he would cook for friends and colleagues of Trish. His Ciabatta bread the other Saturday was magnificent I’ve been told, that and the discussion on Pre-Cambrian fossils. As you all know Chris had an immense general knowledge. Once a fact went into his brain it stayed there. He was a Quizmeister and the Guardian Saturday Quiz became a Jenkins family tradition. Chris would infuriate the rest by preceding the question with “I know the answer”

Remember Chris the compassionate man who when his friend Hef died he took a keen interest in Hef’s sons, Aziz and Jamal. Chris the man with a dry sense of humour. The man who would shout at the radio at hypocrites on the news. He had a strong dislike of the pompous and abusers of power.

Remember Chris a man liked by women because they felt safe in his company, he listened and was supportive. He loved his coffee beans but always had the instant in, as that’s what Cath the cleaner preferred. Trish will now share some memories of Chris with us.

I know this is going to be a very hard thing for me to do… and I know I will cry and I expect you all to do the same… because as Chris would have said; “If we are going to do this … let’s do it properly.”

Thirty five years ago this week I started at university and as I registered for my courses in the Science Lecture Block of the University of Liverpool, I met Chris. I was 18 and he was 20. I was wearing a skirt made out of my mother’s front room curtains and had long hair down my back. He had wild hair and a beard and was wearing loons.

Within a year we were going out together, within two years we were living together and within three we were married.

Since then we have been together – Chris and Trish. Some of you knew just the Chris part and some of you knew just the Trish part - but actually you all knew ‘Chris and Trish’ because I wouldn’t be the Trish I am, without Chris and Chris would not have been the man he was, without me.

We grew up together.

Chris lived on borrowed time and more importantly, he knew he lived on borrowed time. To have been so close to death at the age of 13 gave him a love and appreciation of life.

There is an American Indian story about a young man who asks his Grandfather how he can live with the history of their people. The old man replied that within each of us are two wolves. One wolf is fierce and full of hatred, the other wolf is very gentle and full of love. Within each of us these two wolves fight constantly. The young man asked; “But which wolf wins?” and the old man replied; “Which ever one you feed.”

Chris could have been a bitter man, he could have resented the fact that he couldn’t walk without pain. He could have hated the reality that there were so many things that he wasn’t able to do. But he didn’t. He didn’t feed the wolf of hatred, he fed the wolf of love.

Though I must say he did throw a few titbits to the wolf of hate and these were mainly directed at politicians, various managers of Newcastle United and most recently the Committee of the Sefton Park Cricket Club about their winter opening hours.

His personal journey wasn’t easy and as a young man he did have anger. Chris only learnt to feed the wolf of love through self discipline and self control, and the older he got the easier this became. I was so fortunate to have been his partner through this learning journey and as he learnt, so did I.

Chris could appreciate little things,. He would spend a lot of time thinking about how he could show his love to us as a family. For example if I had been away and was returning home tired and travel weary - he would cook for me - ‘comfort food’ like Naverin of Lamb. He could spend hours scratching the dogs head, because he knew Kipper loved it. Chris lived his life with the knowledge that little things are so important.

Chris had particular contempt for those who abused power. He hated hypocrisy. He was a remarkably honest man and he was honest with himself as well as with us. He couldn’t lie and if you asked him a question you got a straight answer. He was also very funny, though he could never tell a joke.

I have discovered over the last two weeks just how important Chris was to so many people, and they remember him for the small things; the obscure fact, the witty email, the loaf of bread, the track of music. Little things that can easily be overlooked. But it is the little things we should cherish as these are the things we will remember and miss.

One of the things I will miss most is asking Chris questions. I would say; “Remind me what was going on in 13th Century in this bit of the world” and I would get a whole history of the time and place. He was remarkable.

Chris and I had a family together, our three beautiful sons Rob, Alex and Jimmy. They will now have to learn to live without him and I know this will not be easy for them.

I also know that their lives so far have been shaped by their father’s values. Chris’s integrity, honesty, knowledge and love has made them the young men that they are. He was immensely proud of them - as am I.

You are all here today to say: “Goodbye to Chris” and to support us as we say farewell. Chris was very matter a fact about death. He would not want us to indulge in grief. He would not have wanted to grow old and I am comforted by the fact that he died ‘As old as you could possibly be to die a young man.’

We all live on borrowed time - Chris knew he did and as a consequence he made the most of the time he had with us. He loved life.

Chris was my husband, the father of Rob, Alex and Jimmy, a good friend and colleague and a lovely man.

Good-bye my lovely Chris.


Chris Jenkins, a proud and loving father, a fantastic supportive husband a loving son. Chris a man genuinely interested in people a good man.

I shall pause now to give you time to reflect and remember your Chris. First we will listen to another piece of music then this will be followed by a short period of silence to remember Chris in your own way. Those with a religious belief can use this time for silent prayer if you so wish.

Music - The Lark Ascending by Vaughan Williams

We will now formally say goodbye to Chris’s body. Please stand if you feel able.

Today we have been remembering Chris Jenkins’ life, the love you all had for him and he had for you. He is now beyond harm, fear and pain.

Chris, we rejoice that you lived
We are glad that we saw your face
We took delight in your friendship
We treasure that we walked life with you
We cherish the memory of your words
Your achievements, your character, your qualities.
With love we leave you in peace
With respect we bid you farewell

Here in this last act, in sorrow but without fear, in love and appreciation, we commit the body of Chris Jenkins to its end. Please be seated

Chris was a realist he wouldn’t have wanted you to speak of him in whispers. He would want you to live life as fully as he did. And now just remember you never lose anything that is good. You can never lose the happiness or the memories you all have, because they are true. And that means the qualities that you loved in Chris will stay with you. Hold Chris in your thoughts. Talk about him often and enjoy those memories of him.

We have now come almost to the end of today’s ceremony here for Chris. His family wish to thank everyone for rallying around them at this time. Many of you will have had a pint with Chris at the Cricket Club it is most appropriate then that you are all welcome there to further reminisce about this special man

We will finish here with another piece of music please listen to as much of it as you wish.

MUSIC – Harry Lime Theme (The Third Man) by Anton Karas

The beauty of the trees,
the softness of the air,
the fragrance of the grass,
speaks to me.

The summit of the mountain,
the thunder of the sky,
the rhythm of the sea
speaks to me.

The faintness of the stars,
the freshness of the morning,
the dew drop on the flower,
speaks to me.

The strength of fire,
the taste of salmon,
the trail of the sun,
And the life that never goes away,
They speak to me.

And my heart soars.


Little things
are important,
because they are little
we see them
but not understand them.

Chief Dan George

Forget-me-nots from Slovenia