Alf Croston (C.Eng; M.I.Mech E)

Dad drove himself to work as normal and was in his office at Tarvin Mill on the day he fell and fractured his hip at the beginning of December. In hospital what he said, very quietly, was “What a mess!” followed by “When can I go home?” He appeared to be making good progress but it turned out to be an event which tragically took away his independence.

Dad outlived nearly all of his contemporaries and it is humbling that so many people have come today to pay their respects. I had thought about giving a resume of each of dad’s 97 years but I don’t think the church does overnights!

Dad was born on 13 October 1925 in Liverpool. His father Charles was chief engineer at an animal feed mill and his mother Ruby was a stay-at-home mum. His brother, also Charles, died some years ago.

Dad passed a scholarship to the Liverpool Collegiate School and on the outbreak of war on 3 September 1939 the whole school was evacuated, in the case of dad to Bangor and his brother Charles to Preston.

Initially he was in a large house overlooking the Menai Straits in a family with two servants but then the servants were called up and dad said that he was “offloaded” with another boy to a smaller council property to a family with 3 children and an Italian lodger who was later interned. The evacuees attended school for half the day and the local children went to the same school for the other half day.

He couldn’t work out why the son of the family and the Italian lodger would go out in warm weather wearing heavy coats until the time he was invited to accompany them following which he became a proficient poacher using terriers and a ferret on the local country estate.

After 6 months of not much happening, a period known as the phoney war, he returned to Liverpool and lived through the Blitz.

Having had an interrupted education meant that he was one subject short of being able to go into the 6th form. Because he did not want to resit a year he left school and got a job as a trainee fruit importer. He found that boring so he joined an insurance company. This information came to me from one of many handwritten notes that he squirrelled about the house. In 1943 his father saw an advertisement in the paper to apply for an army engineering cadetship. Dad passed the selection by climbing ropes and proving he had good table manners. He took up the cadetship at Wigan Mining and Technical College where Margaret Spencer was on the secretarial staff. They, of course, later married in 1950.

He was called up in September 1945 and chose REME (Royal Electrical and Mechanical Engineers). The basic training was in Winchester and on the journey down he and colleagues were laughing and joking in front of 2 elderly ladies. When they told them they were joining the army the ladies replied “well you won’t be laughing much longer”. Those men remained lifelong friends and they held reunions until fairly recently and we believe he may be the last survivor of that group. Dad served in Austria and Germany. One of his many stories was that two of them purloined a senior officer’s staff car and took it for a drive. It would be called TWOC ing now. On being stopped by the military police the excuse they used was that they had just serviced it and were taking it for a test run. Fortunately that story worked. He had a great affection for both countries and he and mum visited many times. They particularly enjoyed the Munich beer festival.

In 1948 he was demobbed and joined W. S Barron and Sons in Gloucester on £2.50 per week with accommodation found. The company designed and manufactured milling equipment and dad became their representative for the North of England based in Chester. When they were taken over he transferred for a couple of years to work for Simon’s in Manchester but he found the regime too bureaucratic. He was headhunted by Miller’s Engineering in Wrexham the family returned to Chester. In 1976, without telling mum, who thought he was late leaving for work, he announced that he was no longer employed and was starting up his own business from the front room. So began Croston Engineering specialising in the design and building of bulk storage and handling systems, mainly in the food industry.

From small beginnings he built up a large network of family businesses and often worked on the basis of a handshake and that one’s word is one’s bond. On rare occasions this tested his faith in humanity but he deprecated the modern tendency of detailed formality instead of applying common sense solutions to problems. He was a chartered engineer and a member of the Institute of Mechanical Engineers. He had a particular interest and expertise in dust explosions and was regarded as an expert in this field. Roger joined the company in 1988 and I, as a solicitor, would occasionally sort out some legal issues. At home he was very happily married to mum and was immensely proud when she was awarded the British Empire Medal. They were a mutual support system for over 65 years. Roger and I never heard them argue and never heard dad swear, even mildly. The closest they came was when dad knocked a jar of honey off the table and it spread itself in a sticky puddle across the carpet. As mum knelt to start cleaning it up she said in a slightly raised voice “Oh Alf”.

Dad was closely involved in village and Chester life. He was part of this church’s community ever since the family moved here in 1964. He was a sidesman, churchwarden, choir member, server and a member of the PCC. Roger and I were members of the St James choir boys’ football team. We were league champions in 1967/1968. I clearly remember dad’s sense of fair play getting the better of him on one occasion. We were playing a match in Christleton and were probably 6 or 7 goals up when, in dad’s eyes, I committed some sort of misdemeanour in the 2nd half and he sent me off. The trouble was that he wasn’t even the referee and the misdemeanour was the quite justified kick I’d aimed at my brother for having missed a sitter.

Dad was a great sportsman and played tennis until he was 90. He played badminton to a high standard and I must have been about 30 years old before I was able to beat him and then it was at squash. He and a former rector of this parish Charles Mack were avid Chester City football fans for years. Dad was a tolerant man who encouraged Roger and myself to follow our own interests. He must have been anxious at times when we went off mountaineering or on expeditions through the Sahara, in my case Kyrgystan, and in Roger’s case Sudan and the Yemen.

He was occasionally forced to confront a challenge. I hadn’t realised that shortly before I introduced him to my wife to be, Linda, that he had voted against divorced people getting remarried in church. I presented him with a divorced, catholic, actress and mother of a little boy, Stuart. However, he came to see Linda in a production of Hello Dolly in which she was playing Dolly Levi. She played at him all night and he was won over. He was a generous grandfather to our children Stuart and Rowena and a proud, if perhaps bemused, great grandfather to his lively great grandchildren Harrison, Maggie and Fraser.

Never one to hold back I’m sure many of you will have memories of him reciting some doggerel or singing a music hall song. “The Flea” was a favourite. He would dress up for the village fête. A newsprint suit or Worzel Gummidge come to mind.

He was highly sociable, belonging to many local organisations such as Round Table and then 41 club, the City club, the Pitt club and Masonic and I know members of these organisations are here today.

There were some things that he couldn’t do. He could not swim out of his depth in a swimming pool. He couldn’t boil an egg to save his life. Mum waited on him hand and foot and we never saw him with a Hoover or dust cloth in his hand. Even on holiday he would ask “where’s the toast?” to be told it was in the toaster and then ask “where’s the toaster?” However, he was a dab hand at washing up. He was generous to a fault and never forgot people.

Dad’s wish was to ensure that the employees of Croston Engineering were secure and that relationships with customers and suppliers should continue into the future. At the time of his accident plans were well advanced to form an employee ownership trust and this was completed in February this year enabling the company to plan for its next phase of life. There is a team of great people who are carrying that legacy into the future. Roger and I are really proud of what he achieved with the company and we will continue to be involved for a time.

I’d like to pay particular tribute to Roger who looked after dad after mum died nearly 7 years ago and who dedicated himself to caring for him in the 7 months between his fall and passing away. Dad was determined to stay at home and not be placed in a residential unit and Roger was determined to keep him at home. That took a huge amount of commitment and dedication against which my occasional helping has been rather pathetic.

Roger was supported by a team of carers and district nurses. They brightened up dad’s days and I hope he brightened up theirs. They do some horribly unrewarding personal tasks with humour and genuine care. I want to thank them so much for all they did for dad and Roger.

Thank you also to rector Stefan and Peter Lee for the care you gave to dad over his last months. He had a strong faith. Several times we thought he was gone only for him to wake up hours after your visits to ask what time it was. He confounded us with his resilience and your blessings undoubtedly revived him . It was a case of “not yet Rector”. So, the epilogue has been written and the book is about to close. Sad though we are to be here, this service is a celebration of a very long, honourable and well lived life. I’m sure you will share your memories. Farewell dad and may you join mum in peace.