Playing The Hand You Are Dealt

This is not an eulogy. I publish this blog to honour Ray’s memory, for I don’t think that he would have approved of me giving him high praise. Who was he? If you ‘google’ his name there are no hits, he had no website or Facebook pages. While no Luddite his personal social network predated modern technology.

A war baby, born in 1943 in a small village in Somerset, he attended the local school. On passing his 13+ examination he completed his formal education at the Bridgwater Technical College. After briefly trying an engineering apprenticeship he joined the RAF. He saw service in North Africa where he tried his hand at amateur dramatics – his Michael Caine impressions are legendary – but not a lot of people know that! Incidentally his time in the RAF left him with a fear of flying.

He returned to civilian life and after a failed RADA audition and a boring office job he found his niche working for the Tote. Travelling from race course to race course, he developed a love of the sport of kings, and an extensive knowledge of horse racing history. Naturally his hero was Lester Piggot. Along the way Ray created friendships that stood the test of time.

He also worked at Gatwick airport on the bureau de change, handling large sums of money every day, smiling at all the grumpy transatlantic passengers as they changed their dollars, dinars and drachma.

Besides being good with numbers (possibly developed by playing “Jack out of Doors” by Tilley light in Hamlock Cottage), he also had artistic and practical skills, patiently and carefully working in many mediums with modelling as his special choice. He was always proud to show off his latest efforts, explaining how he had achieved the desired results.

His last job was with a national travel agency. This allowed him to travel around the U.K. using his currency skills and acting talent to educate local agency staff in cash conversion and the dark arts of spotting forgeries. As the travel industry changed, his role reduced and he was less able to visit other branches and the confines of one office did not suit him.

A change in his personal circumstances allowed him to retire and he and his wife Rosemary were able to travel extensively in the UK and Europe, usually by train or driving. His choice of cars over the years were idiosyncratic, ranging from VW combi’s, a Dutch deux-chevaux mail van and various pick-up trucks. His last vehicle – a ‘Chelsea tractor’ was probably his favourite. Although he had the freedom to travel he still liked to visit his local pub, playing or scoring for the darts team, enjoying the camaraderie or as the Irish so eloquently put it “just for the craic”.

He took the news of the seriousness of his disease stoically and remained steadfast in his final days. He kept his dry sense of humour and I never heard him complain during those last long months. In fact all the years we shared I cannot remember him getting really angry or raising his voice.

He loved going back to Somerset, visiting his old haunts, friends and relatives. And this is where I will sing his praises. Over his sixty-six years he developed strong bonds with many, many people always enjoying the company of his family and friends where laughter was never very far away. He was loyal and loving with a generous nature to all who knew him. He has left a void in my heart that will take a long time to fade.

In summary he was much loved, with my sister Jean, our foster brother Roger and I very proud to be able to say that Wilfred Raymond John Chown was our brother.