Eulogy to Ron CROUCH by his daughter Sarah.
Part 5
My Mum saw him shortly after he passed away and she said he seemed so peaceful. I pray this will comfort her especially as although he was taken from us swiftly he is now at peace in God’s house without having to endure further suffering.
I look forward to the day when we will be reunited and see that roughish smile of his once more.
Once again on behalf of my family I thank you all for being here today

Eulogy to Ron CROUCH by his daughter Sarah.
Part 4
My husband in France, Pascal, says he was like a rock, the anchor man of the family. He didn’t need to talk to let you know how he felt about you. Life was a long quiet river and he would take everything in his stride. Including his painful illness. Our daughter, Lydia’s second Christian name is Constance in tribute to my Dad’s personality.
He deeply regretted having to give up lorry driving due to his ill health. He was so happy trundling up and down the county, always accompanied by BBC Radio 2. Lloyd so loved the times he got a ride in the cab and is always under a bonnet fixing a car to this day.
As for me, I was perfectly happy to be in his company watching ‘Porridge’ or ‘Only fools and horses’, seeing him relaxed and happy.
His death was sudden and we are all still deeply saddened and will be for a long time to come.

Eulogy to Ron CROUCH by his daughter Sarah.
Part 3
The annual camping holiday, always somewhat fraught in the initial preparation; would the car suspension stand up to Mum’s packing? “Are we nearly there yet” half a mile after leaving the house so excited was I to be going away as a whole family and the joy that entailed. Once the tricky tent had been put up amidst some blue and not just sea air, we could relax and have fun. Dad would see to our beach ‘encampment’ each day making it just how everybody liked it and would blow up our dinghy and pull it around the sea so fast to our yells of delight - we thought we were in a speedboat. During those memorable holidays he would do all he could to help Mum out and this was a time when we saw their complicity and love more than ever.
As time went on and we grew up, although Dad was not a man of many words, we both knew he was there if we needed him. He was a constant unchanging man who put on no fancy airs and graces, he always remained true to himself.

Eulogy to Ron CROUCH by his daughter Sarah.
Part 2
Then it was time for fun and teasing. Dad truly loved to play with us when he could and squeals could be heard resonating around the house and garden as he chased us around pretentending to be some scary character with his portly frame and of course his famous black beard. His teasing, which never meant any harm has been wonderful to see as he has played with his four dear granddaughters. Lydia, Chloe, Grace and Eleanor who will all miss him very deeply. He was a Grampy in a million
As we grew older, the play changed to help and advice, mending bikes, motorbikes and cars for us with patience and love. Cooking Sunday morning breakfast for us and preparing Sunday lunch to give Mum a rest. He always booked us on the Club or Work’s outing giving us immense pleasure and at those times showing an extra insight into his relationship with MUM. How happy we were to see them up rock’n’rolling on the dance floor.

Eulogy to Ron CROUCH by his daughter Sarah.
Part 1
Firstly, to those who do not know me personally, I would like to introduce myself as Sarah, Ron’s daughter and on behalf of my Mum and brother, Lloyd, extend our gratitude for your presence here today. Your support at this time is of immeasurable value.
To his colleagues and friends my father was always to be counted on and was faithful to his word. He worked hard and was a good friend.
For my Mum, Lloyd and I that relationship went much deeper. He worked hard to look after us making sure we wanted for nothing. Although, as my Mum put it, he was content with his lot, glad to have his newspapers, pipe and a pint – a decent one if you please – my Dad’s coming home on Friday night when we were young was the highlight of the week. We would peek out the window hoping he would get home before we had to go to bed.

A tribute to my late Husband Ron, by his Widow Bobbie.
Part 3
He loved his job and the freedom it gave him. He was very content with his lot, all he wanted was a warm happy home, a loving family, his papers, his pipe and the telly.
He was a complete optimist and liked to have a flutter on the lottery but if he had won he would have spent it all on his family.
I am missing him more than I thought possible, he was my “partner in crime”, his words. And I think he is the only person in the whole world who really knew me. I feel lost and alone without him but I have so many happy memories and our children and granddaughters to help me through.
He was my love, my life, my reason to be. His disability made the last year or two very difficult for him but he tried very hard to stay cheerful.
Rest in peace Ron, until we meet again.

A tribute to my late Husband Ron, by his Widow Bobbie.
Part 2
He was a good and loving husband and father and provider. He was a sentimental old softie who loved playing with his children and grandchildren and making them squeal with delight.
He had few close family of his own, his only brother lives in Australia, so he really loved being part of our family whom he always referred to as “the outlaws”. When asked why, he always said “outlaws are wanted”. He always enjoyed our family get-togethers, many of which took place in our home.
He liked to grow his beard in the Winter when he was younger. Reluctantly, at my insistence, I would make him shave it off during the Summer months
He loved our family holidays. They were really special times for him and I have lots of wonderful photos. Ron would pose beautifully and then pull a silly face at the last moment.
Putting up the tent after quite a few expletives was always a military operation and usually took about three attempts.

A tribute to my late Husband Ron, by his Widow Bobbie.
Part 1
I met Ron in the Talbot Hotel in the summer of 1962 which is now the Hob Goblin. I was with my best friend Janet and we were trying to avoid a couple of lads we had a date with. We were straying away from our usual haunts. Jan got off with his friend and Ron and I were “lumbered” with each other. Whenever I recalled this anecdote he would comment in his jovial manner “And I’ve been lumbered with her ever since”.
We were married in 1963 and when Lloyd was born two years later Ron was like “a dog with two tails”. He always had pet names for people he really cared about and Lloyd’s was “Chirpy” until he was quite grown up and became “Fred”. When Sarah was born two years later, we couldn’t agree what to name her so he called her “missis”. Lloyd had difficulty pronouncing this and called her “Fizziz”. And later when her personality changed, she became known as “Madam”. They both knew when they were in trouble if he called them by their real names!

Part 5
Dad passed away very suddenly this week. He is going to be missed. But over the last 4 ½ years, since he couldn’t continue to drive his beloved Lorry at the age of 68, Dad has been suffering a slow degenerative neurological disorder, which meant that starting at his feet, and slowly making its way up his body, he has been loosing the use of his legs, resorting to sticks and a walking trolley. As if that wasn’t bad enough, he was also suffering excruciating spinal pain. My one solace at his passing away is the knowledge that he is no longer in such terrible pain.

Part 4
Dad always worked hard during the year, but the big annual event was the annual holiday. We always camped, and it was a wonder the overloaded car got us there, in fact a Morris Oxford and a Vauxhall FB Victor both failed on separate occasions. Newgale, in west Wales, just past Haverfordwest was my favourite location, and we went there each year for many years. Dad liked familiarity and resisted change for changes sake, so our holidays were annual same agains. I still go to Newgale with my family as the place still holds many happy memories for me.

Part 3
Dad loved driving, and from the Scammel Pioneer’s with their Queen Mary trailers during 5 years service in the RAF, driving has been the only career my Dad had.

However I was doubly lucky, because as well as seeing my Father at work – and how many of us can say that, I also saw him at home. In my rose tinted spectacles I think of him in Sid James mode in Bless this House, spending Sunday afternoons asleep on the settee under the newspaper, but in reality, he was a loving Dad, with a kind word of encouragement, or a small gesture of help, and was always there when needed. He was a rascal as well, always full of fun. He used to cook a Sunday breakfast for me and my Sister, whilst Mum had a lie in, and we used to have a square fried egg in our fried bread. In trying to find a suitable photo of him, I have looked at over 600 pictures of him over the years, and only 16 did not have him poking his tongue out or pulling some other type of comic face.

Part 2
– Dad loved his “Akky” RGL 538M; and then onto more modern times with the various Mercedes and Volvo Lorries. He was not mechanically sympathetic to his trucks, as I am sure the fitters at the places he worked will remember all too well; no his mantra was to get there and back ASAP. He was known as “Flyer Crouch”. I used to sit in the passenger seat, about 5ft away from Dad, shouting to make our selves heard over the din of the huge diesel engine, watching the sun rise at 5am as we pounded along the M4 either to London, or to cut down through Newbury to the south coast. I loved going to the large places like Heinz, or The Smelter, because there, once inside the gates, I would sit on Dad’s lap and drive the Lorry. Dad loved the freedom of the open road, and I remember all to well his regret at the passing of the Log Book for the Tachograph. At work he was an uncompromising man, who stood his ground in the male dominated society of the lorry driver.

My Father – Ron, was a stoic, even keeled figure, who, as time passed and I grew up to become a man, became my best friend. He worked every day of his life, from when he was 14 years old. He was one of those rare figures who knew his own mind, did not sit on the fence, and viewed the world in binary or black and white. He was not one to tolerate the grey, wishy washy, decisions of the Politically Correct society we have today.

In my early years, my parents were not rich, and as they both worked to provide for me and my sister Sarah, it came about that each and every school holiday, I would travel the highway and byways of the UK in the cab of my Dad’s lorry. The Lorries, and the firms Dad drove for are largely consigned to the history books. The Ford D series for Amey at Tormarton (now TNT I Believe), The Bedford “paddywagon” at Guests, along with the Meadows airfreight and the lovely old Atkinson Borderer’s with their pneumatic powered windscreen wipers and silent 7th on the Membury Banks on the M4, or telegraph hill out of Plymouth