Charles Geoffrey Disley was born in west Derby Liverpool, the son of Charles Disley and Charlotte May Coulson.

At a young age dad contracted Tuberculosis from infected milk which was quite common at that time.

As a result of this, He spent many years In Wrightington hospital near Wigan, his life, including his education was here, from aged three to fourteen, and one of my early memories is dad recalling those days to us around the dinner table. Dad would have been eight years old at the end of 1939, the kids on the ward made up a simple game of Plane spotting, to this day I can’t remember what the prize was for winning but I guess it involved food, which often becomes a prised commodity in such circumstances. They would look out of the windows, and before long, the calls could be heard, echoing around the hospital.....”sinitfaterry, sinitfaterry, sinitfaterry” The translation, for those not familiar with this foreign northern language is “I’ve seen it for Terry”. ....and so it was that this kid, called Terry, went on to win every single game of plane spotting on the ward.... Now you can come to your own conclusions about who Terry was, and his role on the ward. But I imagine an overweight Terry ended up in charge of a Merseyside drug cartel, and lived out his days looking over his shoulder on the Costa Del sol.

The Recent d-day celebrations caused me to think back to when Dad had to leave Wrightington. He needed his TB effected hip to be operated on, and the ideal time to do this, was when his bones had finished growing at eighteen years old, unfortunately, due to the demand for beds at the end of the war, dad had to be operated on some 4 years early, and as a consequence he spent the rest of his life, not only with a locked right hip joint, but one leg two and a half inches shorter than the other.

After leaving hospital dad, got involved with a local youth group, he had a good friend, Ray from Notty Ash, ..... for those of a certain age....the name Notty ash May jog some Ken Dodd memories...yes, it really is a place (in Liverpool) and yes, the diddy men do live there. Ray and dad would spend weekends out and about on their motorbikes discovering the scenery of North Wales and Merseyside, and, in case you were Wondering ... Dad and Ray adapted his Vincent 125 .... with a different brake and extra wheel meaning his driving license has a note in as follows.... Under the heading restrictions on driving motorcycles..it states “a motor car and motor tricycle with all controls fitted so that they can be correctly and conveniently operated, despite locked right hip joint and 2 1/2” shortening of right leg.” I would love a photo of dad and Ray riding through snowdonia, but this has to be left to our imagination, I do know that in recent days dad loved the sound of me turning up on my motorbike, I know it triggered some of those early biking memories for him, which made both of us happy. Dad remained best of friends with Ray for many years, we went to visit him and his family in knotty ash, on several occasions, which was truly a joy.

Dad attended old swan technical college studying engineering, he always wanted a job at the Cammell Laird shipyard in Liverpool, unfortunately they took one look at his mobility and his hopes were dashed. He ended up getting a job as a draughtsman for post office communications and went on to have an unbelievable career with them, becoming the youngest ever head of division in the country. He spent time at Martlesham research centre on Ariel transmission design and ended up doing the daily commute from Milford station to 207 Old street, London, where he eventually took retirement in his mid 50’s.

Being a workaholic, He then went on to work on the Hong Kong tunnel project, and other telecommunications design work into his early seventies. He then had a brief Foray into building design and planning, before properly retiring in his early eighties.

Geoff (as he liked to be known), met Marion Gregory on a Christian endeavour holiday on the Isle of Man, after courting for about a year or so, they were married at Queens hall Methodist mission in Wigan, on 17th September 1955, they went on to live in Kingsbury North London where Christine, Andrew & Myself were born. In late 1964 they moved to Milford and in 1971 they settled at 5 the lawns. Dad had headed to Milford, after admiring the beautiful countryside whilst on a journey for work, and had made up his mind that this was the place where he wanted to bring up his family.

Life in the 70’s at the lawns reflected many others at his time, these are a few family tv moments that stand out in my memory:
- trying to remember the prizes on the conveyor belt in the generation game.
- Dad yelping, like he was experiencing the pain himself as we watched big daddy flatten kendo Nagasaki on a Saturday afternoon.
- The whole family Crying with laughter on a Friday evening as we watched the brilliant oversized Characters with ridiculous sculptured expressions get pummelled in its a knockout..... je sans frontiers.
...Absolutely Cracking !

Dad had a long love of swimming and insisted on getting not only his kids, but a lot of our school friends swimming over at Cranleigh swimming pool, he loved being involved in all aspects of the swimming club and even used to play in goal at water polo, when Andy and myself started playing. His love of swimming stayed with him and got him into trouble on countless occasions whether it be getting stung by jellyfish in Scotland, where he had to be hospitalised, body surfing In Cornwall, or getting into trouble in rough seas on holiday with Beryl.

Family holidays mostly revolved around Christian endeavour holiday homes, or Methodist guest houses. Cornwall, Wales, Scotland, the lakes and Blackpool were all places that created wonderful family memories but it was probably the trips to the Relatives and friends in Wigan and Liverpool that we were most fond of.

The ford Anglia with big luggage trunk on the roof, would work its way north on an eclectic series of A and B roads, (not motorways) taking in the views of the beautiful English countryside that dad loved so much, without so much as a hint of consideration for Marion, who was having to deal with trying to keep 3 kids occupied whilst not killing each other on the back seat. We spent evenings playing dominoes or ludo with an eclectic mix of friends and relatives, auntie Daisy, giggly auntie Bertha and one tooth Ginny, all with fantastic stories of Wigan life to tell. We went putting at Haigh Hall, crown green Bowling in Mesnes park and swimming at Wigan international pool, dad Joined in everything and was always competitive showing no mercy on us kids with his winning mentality. A side of himself I think he possibly regretted as he had to witness his kids winning putting, bowling and croquet competitions on Christian endeavour holidays, showing no mercy to age, reputation or handicap as they swept up the trophies with embarrassing ruthlessness.(I hope this explains some stuff to you Nay and Abbs ) !

Our trips to Liverpool were a wake up call, grandad lived in Huyton, it’s about as far removed from life in Milford as you can get, as kids we couldn’t understand why shops had steel shutters down during the day, with a buzzer entry system for a steel door, just to get some fruit salads and a sherbert dib,dab. Myself and Andy experienced a traditional scouse welcome from some lads at the local building site.....however this was slightly less scary than the day when Andy, happened to let his hand wander slightly too close to where grandad hid his money, down the side of the sofa. I can remember the growl and the show of teeth from Jackie, grandads lovely Alsatian cross jack russell as it leapt 3 yards across the front room. Andy had never moved so quick and grandad managed to grab Jackie mid flow, as he new the dog was just protecting the money, and would in all likelihood have taken Andy’s hand off, just part of everyday survival in Huyton.

Years later I know that when dad went up to bury his father he confessed the worst part of the trip, was taking Jackie to the vets for the last time.

We all attended Godalming Methodist church up to an age when sport took over Sunday mornings for First Andy then myself. one of dad’s first musical forays was a Christian musical put on by the church called spirit.

It was this that sparked dad’s interest in music and he went on to join Bow bells choir in London, the Guildford cathedral choir and Shalford Choral society.

Dad was in his mid fifties when the pressure of trying to deal with mental health issues within the family finally became too much for him. He separated from Marion And started a relationship with Beryl whom he had met through their common Love of singing.

Beryl and Geoff were married at Guildford registry office, travelled extensively and included singing in their holidays whenever possible, they also enjoyed playing golf together, pottering in the garden and were very much soul mates until the end.

In his late seventies Geoff was diagnosed with prostate cancer and unfortunately due to his locked hip he could not be treated in the usual way, So his prostate had to be removed, which at least totally got rid of the cancer.

We are all just reflections of our childhood, The time spent in Wrightington hospital, where, incidentally, he wasn’t visited by his parents between the ages of four and eight years old, being operated on too early ....leaving him with this huge boot to carry around the rest of his life, and the rejection from the job he desperately wanted on the shipyard, meant that Geoff had a lot of trauma to deal with.

This is why he was so independent, he had to fix his own car, he had to fix the washing machine, he had to do his own plumbing, and house diy. I can remember walking into the back garden and seeing him painting from near the top of his trusty old ladder, however this was around 2012 when dad was in his early 80’s, the ladder is an absolute beast to move, not like modern lightweight ladders of today, oh no, dad enjoyed the challenge far too much, so with his locked hip and his heavy boot he would shimmy up (I use that term very loosely) The dodgy old ladder. The ladder is still at the lawns and if anyone wants to try moving it they are welcome to it, I ended up bringing my own aluminium ladder to do Work at the lawns, rather than face the embarrassment of me going over whilst trying to move dads beast out of the garage.

In recent times, dad’s mobility issues began to get worse, the pottering around the garden became less frequent, more time was spent sitting, watching and napping in the garden, his body began to shut down on him and in the last year or so he became bed bound. He got on with the carers and was grateful for everything they did for him, dad would always engage and be interested in them and their families, this is something that comes up time after time from conversations with friends and was a particularly endearing quality of dad’s.

He was gentle, kind, honest and trustworthy, but I think above all he was amazingly resilient.

Unbelievably and against all odds, he worked his way up to have an amazing career, explore parts of the world that he must have only ever dreamed he would see as a boy in Wrightington, he sang in Cathedral choirs, swam in tropical waters, but above all raised a family that all love him, and will miss him more Than he will ever know.

Rest in Peace Dad.