Thomas Clifford Spriggs

My Dad - Tom Spriggs, was born in Bargoed, Wales on the 14th February 1931, and was the youngest of six children - the youngest son of William and Olive Spriggs. The family moved to Birmingham when Dad was quite young and he did most of his schooling there.

Dad joined the RAF in the early 1950s as an apprentice armourer and was stationed in Blackpool and then posted to Malta where he spent most of his free time in Valetta, M’dina and Silema. He also explored a lot of Egypt hitching lifts on transport planes that stopped at Malta for fuel.
When he left the RAF he moved with his mother to Corby, where he started working for British Road Services as a long distance driver, and then on to Geddington. It was there he met my Mother - Hazel and they married in 1970 and I was born in 1972.

Dad had kept up an interest in firearms from his RAF days and joined a Kettering club to shoot at the indoor range and eventually achieved his ambition of owning a Martini Vostock target rifle. When his eyesight deteriorated to a point he had to wear glasses he gave up shooting and took an interest in CB radio and from there graduated to amateur (ham) radio. Through this he made many friends all over the world especially Keith and Phyllis Cameron who he visited in Canada twice in the 1990s.
In the early 1990s Dad and Mum had divorced and Dad moved to Kettering where he made many friends: Agnes, Tony, Irene and Jean, Pam and June, Ken and Dave, Dean and many others - my Father was always a sociable creature!

In 1995 Dad became a grandfather when I gave birth to a son Jack Thomas, named after him, and then when I married in 2000 he gained a son in law Paul. Two more grandchildren followed Matthew and Hannah.

Dad was well known for his sense of humour. I have many memories of Dad's impersonations, magic tricks and practical jokes (including a well known phase of overusing a whoopee cushion). He had very strong opinions on a lot of things and was never backwards at coming forwards.
He enjoyed all things technical, watches and cameras (of which he had a large collection). Dad was always very determined and would not often let any object get the better of him. There was a Barnstormer kite Dad had bought for me when I was seven years old that went on a family holiday to Skegness. One afternoon Dad decided to fly it and immediately a storm blew up so within minutes of having had the kite impressively airborne it blew into a tree. I ran for cover from the rain while Dad took thirty minutes to disentangle the kite by which time he was soaked through. Dad was not a happy man but nevertheless he spent most of the week repairing the torn kite with sellotape. On our return home it was necessary to check the repairs were OK and the weather looked about right so Dad and I went into the cornfield behind our house in Geddington and once more the kite flew beautifully. Unfortunately Dad did not recognise the implications of the field of wheat having been harvested whilst he was away on holiday. When the wind dropped the kite fell out of the sky and landed on the sharp stubble and was pierced with more holes than the tree in Skegness had ever made. But still Dad sat and mended the kite and it remained with him, in the boot of whichever car he owned right through until 1992.

In July 2006 Dad was diagnosed with terminal lung and liver cancer. Dad was determined to carry on as best he could, not willing to leave his home until absolutely necessary. He still cracked his jokes and made his friends laugh - he had a certain way of cracking jokes that was unique to him. He cooked his own meals and refused help from ‘outsiders’ and with the support of only those closest to him achieved his aim. Even when he was eventually admitted to the hospice days before he died he was still telling dirty jokes to the nurses and, as always, getting the punch-lines spot on, with the same panache as he always had, even cancer never took that from him.

Dad's passing has probably left a hole in the lives of all that knew him. He was the sort of character that wasn't easily forgotten once you'd met him! As his only daughter, all I can do is hope that I have inherited his best traits and that I can pass them onto my children. My son Matthew certainley has the same twinkle in his eye that his Grandad had for 75 years.

Rest in Peace Pops.....Gone, but never ever forgotten.

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To the living I am gone,

To the sorrowful I will never return,

To the angry I was cheated,

But to the happy I am at peace,

And to the faithful I have never left.

I cannot be seen but I can be heard,

So as you stand upon the shore gazing at the beautiful sea, remember me.

As you look in awe at a mighty forest and its grand majesty, remember me.

As you look upon a flower and admire its simplicity, remember me.

Remember me in your heart, your thoughts and your memories of the times we loved,

The times we cried, the times we fought, the times we laughed.

For if you always think of me, I will never have gone


(Read out during Dads commital)


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You can shed tears that he is gone

Or you can smile because he has lived



You can close your eyes and pray that he will come back

Or you can open your eyes and see all that he has left



Your heart can be empty because you can't see him

Or you can be full of the love that you shared



You can turn your back on tomorrow and live yesterday

Or you can be happy for tomorrow because of yesterday



You can remember him and only that he is gone

Or you can cherish his memory and let it live on



You can cry and close your mind, be empty and turn your back

Or you can do what he would want: smile, open your eyes, love and go on.


(Read by me at Dad's funeral)