John French 1941 - 2001

RIP

In 1987 my Father's Cousin and mine, one John French then in charge of a company at the forefront of the developing computer industry besides running an apparently successful business was worth a significant sum of money : especially on paper or so it had been rumoured. He was the only member of my Father's family apart from his sister, who wasn't a complete loss that I ever had anything to do with ; excepting biannual visits to Great Aunts and so on, several of whom it may be known have passed on within the last decade. I had known him since I was a small child, as an entrepreneur salesman on the streets of London and as a businessman in the Leeds area of Yorkshire where most of his immediate family reside : he had made sound career start with a six year spell in the Army before becoming involved in civil aviation and entrepreneurial activities.

He was close to my Father, rather than to myself and so didn't have anything much, to do with him until 1987 when at my Father's request he paid for an air fare return ticket so I could visit him in Thailand where he had been living for several years : I had almost been stabbed to death in a knife attack in a grimy bedsit and needed a break. Subsequent to our visit and before my Father's return to establish another permanent residence of his own here in 1997, I had written to him a couple of times asking him about the chances of a Job or perhaps a little backing for my some of my own ideas which included acquiring computer hardware and expertise, principally as a means to assist in my own legal difficulties which I had only partly explained to him at that stage. By that time I had spent years doing casual manual work, and whilst I hadn't learned absolutely nothing, wanted to do something different fairly badly ; by '98 I had borrowed almost £3000 to equip myself with some of the much vaunted up to date microchip hardware and take a couple of driving tests.

I have my reservations as I have said elsewhere about remaining in Ipswich, and sent the odd Christmas card thinking that his partner Pat probably did not want to facilitate a course of action that might lead to any more expenditure. I recall well that there was a conversation over one of his excellent meals in '91 I think it was which I pointed out that by then, Ken my Father had encouraged the expenditure of my going to the far East twice (the 2nd time with Criminal Injuries Compensation I'd received for the stabbing) and had hinted that some other more sensible investment might elicit the more serious approach to life than my continual unemployed, if not inactive existence was provoking as criticism : certainly that such serious expenditure of resources in the future, would have to be spent on more serious long terms goals, insofar as for example the hospitality, with which my Father had induced me to go a second time, had been non existent and money I could have invested in myself had disappeared.

Gossip started to trickle through via my Father that things were not going well with his business until a little over a year ago on August the 8th when my Father paid a visit to that branch of his family and returned with Cousin John who had come to stay, because ; his business had in fact folded some time ago : his longstanding partner had felt forced to leave him having succumbed herself to nervous disorders in the process of trying to sustain their business : his creditors were in the process of taking over his house that very weekend : his immediate family were sick of him sitting around self importantly in their homes 'nervously,' chain smoking : failing to face up to things in general : and being completely unable to contemplate seeking social security payments which he had apparently never countenanced. It was a shame really, there was much I could have done for any ailing business (locals had 'ripped me off' as they say for quite a lot) and believe I had mentioned as much, had learned all sorts of things in the previous few years about the advancing computer industry in which matter he had been the principal inspiration.

I was happy to hear that he was coming to stay with my Father as he was the only sort of endearing or avuncular figure that I had known in my Father's family since his Father died. I had only just succeeded in persuading him (my Father) to send his other half-caste Son back to his Mother in Thailand because he had been beating up on him and wouldn't help with anything, had just spent much time cleaning and redecorating my Father Kenneth's place and imagined that he would be a big help insofar as my Father isn't able to do much for himself being officially handicapped, mainly with lung complaints besides having reached pensionable age himself and really needed the company in his flat across town with violent and lawless youth gangs marauding outside. He had been forced to take the first suitable ground floor flat available (couldn't climb stairs) and it may serve to illustrate the kind of neighbourhood it is if I tell you that in the course of the last winter, just from that housing estate, I had lost two 'friends' of about my age, one hanged himself after being unable to get treatment for severe stomach disorders, galloping skin complaints, alcoholism etc, he had in fact been kicked out of St Clement's despite the fact that he was obviously going to die one way or another very soon, the other was found dead from a heroin overdose and the local barmaid had been murdered in a closing time raid by some of the Town's numerous West Indian contingent in the last week before Christmas. I was quite shocked to note though he was quite lean and fit and didn't look his age, he had a vacant 'nobody home,' sort of look and some apparent difficulty talking. At first I put this down to his expecting younger people to do things for him or perhaps simple indolence, but he had almost no volition or self will and was completely uninterested in anything but his next cigarette, which he was virtually incapable of rolling himself. Wouldn't even clean up his CD collection which had been fire damaged in an 'accident,' or two, which along with a collection of Encyclopaedias was virtually all he owned and was apparently unable to carry out even the tasks that my Father does, let alone help me with my own PC difficulties or aught else. I haven't had a printer for over a year, amongst many other things, and such absence of equipment had already wrought great mischief with such plans as I had entertained by then. He missed his partner, not seeming to find fault with her despite her having said he had driven her to a state of nervous ill health and visited him but once in his last year : that she had visited him at all I didn't learn until after his death : I could well understand that anyone of any significant sensitivity would have found it extremely difficult to cope with him. Or with any of his immediate relatives of whom about three found the time to visit ; you understand that some had significant sums tied up with his sunken business enterprises. At that time I had done no work for some months ; in the previous six years I had worked on a voluntary basis as part of the attempt to clear my name of certain allegations, with the WRVS, see ( see CV Life History Section ) by then I had a real amount of practical experience in dealing with people suffering from various degenerative diseases, and was particularly concerned for him. I tried to comfort him with the assurance that as his Cousin's son I was well acquainted with disaster and failure but though he didn't seem to lack a sort of composure even cheerfulness never really displayed the lucidity of the man I had known and it was down to educated guesswork as to what degree the various problems he faced might have been responsible for the change : I think the separation from his longstanding partner had affected him to a greater extent than he cared to admit . My Father had been planning to go back to Thailand to stay with his family there over the early part of winter and left John in his flat on October 10th. I was involved in night work at the Post Office from the end of November and was able to do little for him in his daily visits to my place beyond giving him what little food, cigarettes and spare cash that I could, which was not a very great deal as I was still paying banking debts and which I think the neighbourhood children were taking from him in any case. I tried to help and persuade him to put on a clean shirt and do a bit of housework : he was not doing any washing up or cleaning. I was absolutely bursting to find him a better option being convinced he was actually ill and not malingering but he hadn't wanted psychiatric evaluation, my Father had had no luck in seeking to get him to do this. He was spending all his days pacing over the Town in shoes that were falling apart ; I have my own problems with the local civil authorities, see homepage ('The MP and his Mental Health) couldn't speak to my own GP about it and had really needed a break from all the recent family difficulties.

Besides having only just ended a two year nightmare of finding my Father another flat, he stayed in my rented home for a while but the 2nd floor apartment was increasingly difficult for him to reach, and setting things up trying to keep his odd cars and my bike on the road and repatriating his younger son. I had a garden and garage to manage on a pittance, and was by the early spring having to write letters to the DSS pleading for cash that it should have been a formality to collect, saying that I couldn't keep this or that appointment because of all these difficulties, which they weren't having, all of which only added to my difficulties, and I lacked a partner or stable relationship which might have enabled me to deal more effectively with the situation.

Whilst my Father was away the local youths took take advantage of his incapacity and stripped the flat of everything of value including even his razor, they continued taking money from him and abusing him until he began habitual shoplifting. Some time after my Father returned and we had at least partly redecorated his flat, which had also suffered a large leak from the central heating system to make matters worse ; John was eventually placed in the local Mental Hospital St Clement's after haplessly getting caught continually taking chocolate by which time, it was then April, it had become glaringly obvious to anyone that he was suffering under the influence of some serious undiscovered malaise. I had been forced to cut down my regular visits to My Father's to odd sneak raids once the local youths had smashed up his car soon after Christmas, which John had crashed and I had spent a huge amount of time repairing. Also my motorcycle, apparently as revenge for the fact that the Police had been notified of the thefts and bullying, which literally crippled my attempts to do something serious in the earlier part of this year about a decent going over of the housework and modest redecoration, all aside from being more able, to get medical things, for John and Ken, than they were themselves. I did manage to restore and partially redecorate the flat but was very much less able to be there for either of them once attacks costing three figures became habitual and there was also the fact that it was only my Mother's money that had really allowed me myself to live with anything resembling real dignity (eg she had paid for both my aged motorcycles) and there was a certain resentment in view of Ken's lifestyle that these resources were getting back to him, especially in view of the fact that if anyone was to blame for my general failure to find prosperity and success etc (excepting myself) it was he. As for the role of the Police, they made promises of investigation but did nothing, despite eyewitnesses to raids on our vehicles, which came as entirely unsurprising to myself, and is partly explained by certain of the other articles on my homepage.

It was rapidly confirmed that something was quite wrong, John had premature dementia resulting from almost unnatural decay of the frontal lobe of his brain and it was made known that he would be requiring 24 hour supervision for the rest of his days. This was obviously the case as I pointed out I was immediately quite convinced of this, so much so I would certainly have insisted on him remaining with me last winter had he been able to avoid smoking or hold a cigarette though he had already burned a valuable chair at my Father's ; the place I live in is a hundred years old and is full of dry timbers unlike my Father's all stone apartment and I could not leave smoker in his condition there without significant risk even though I have smoke alarms and so on. I moved in to my present address some eight years ago when it was virtually derelict and have been fleeced of thousands of pounds worth of work on the place : the Landlord is also called John. I had begged him to stay if only just to rest properly, take a bath etc, but he wouldn't relax for more than a few minutes at any one time : though he visited at least once almost every day. The lengthy seven night a week shifts at the Post office finished on Christmas Eve, just as Ken my Father returned ; I had only failed to get out of bed for John's often incongruously timed visits once or twice. His appearance had excited the curiosity of the neighbours, particularly the two professional ladies who share the flat below as without razor and toiletries he had the look of a 19th century American backwoodsman, they liked him despite this and I made it plain that he was always to be treated as a most honoured guest. I had calculated correctly that he could at least survive until then : my main immediate concern was that Ken my Father would suffer a sever asthma attack making a plane journey around the world alone, considering his age and infirmity especially his lung condition.

For the last summer of his life John was shuttled about between hospitals on the north eastern side of town and my Father was put to much work in visiting him sufficiently, as were myself (with aged motorbike lacking rear footpegs amongst much else), and my Father's sister, so as to lighten the obvious deleterious effect that incarceration had on him, he was soon no longer able to stride around proudly as he had all winter in mere rags, but was a shambling hobbling wreck that had often to be physically supported despite all the efforts of state medicine and poorly paid NHS employees : I had already wept at having to leave him in St Clements hospital, he was utterly broken by then and only desired liberty, pleading with my Father in half Queen's English and half reversion to a Yorkshire accent, 'I want yew to tek me away from here.'

He wasn't able to talk much at all the last time I saw him alive in mid August but could write and we agreed that he seemed much better than he had. As my Father was visiting almost every other day and giving me regular reports I considered that my time was probably better spent on his behalf in planning a move to somewhere that we could have taken care of him, which I had mentioned as a possible alternative to an old people's home or something such when the matter was officially discussed in my presence : having also my Father's likelihood of being in a similar position in the medium term to consider. This was going to entail the completion of various tasks that weren't going to get done if I spent hours gawping at his face and making vain noises that he was unable to respond to. I had tried to bully the staff there into letting me take him out for at least odd days, but he started having collapses necessitating resuscitation and my crippled Father was then the only one with effective transport, having been forced to buy another car, and was worn to a frazzle by what had been happening and I couldn't keep pace with what was being broken and stolen, even without eating at all and had to lean on friends, and Ken for a little financial support to keep the flat and garage paid up and operational etc.

About a week before he passed on, perhaps a little more, my Father called me to say they had been doing some more specialist tests at Addenbroke's and had also diagnosed motor neurone disease, which sounded a bit more like it. He told me that John might have only a few weeks to live and that failure to resuscitate him after another of the collapses he had recently been having, might occur : I asked him if John had been told and we agreed that we should both get there soon. When my Father called midweek I had only just arisen and he couldn't wait for me to get dressed ; he was wearied and resigned by the whole business I knew as was I myself, having endured the usual starvation diet, in particular as a result of having to pay for so much vandalism and it's consequences. I also had some serious back trouble in July, and had to spend more time taking it easy after a minor accident caused by a lady motorist in the first week of August, in which I sustained bruising to my legs and just about scrapped the bike, and have been supposed to have been writing a CV for several years.

Besides having regular trouble sleeping, I have been hunched over my computer throughout the small hours most of the year, watching back episodes of the Secret Army amongst other things this last month, downloading music and playing computer and internet games : I had just switched to an NTL digital package and was able to get thirty odd channels for negligible extra cost. My attempts to work effectively had become increasingly vain as the summer progressed ; I had only just nursed my finances back to a survival situation after many weeks of doing little and being constantly bedevilled by mechanical failures, a temperamental computer, late spring cleaning and household maintenance which had all been shelved, and asked my Mother as an old friend to go and cheer him up one day when I'd said I'd see him and couldn't. I live close to the town centre and roughly half way in between an open air swimming pool(now quite dilapidated and a modern flagship facility indoor pool and usually look forward to hot weather and being able to spend pleasant days at the outdoor though this year had been skulking around behind curtains despite the last three summers having been bad.

We didn't make the same mistake on Saturday September the first as I requested him to ring me before leaving home to make sure that we'd get there at his convenience. When the call came I leapt out of bed and was ready within 15 minutes thinking that Ken was on his way. After thirty minutes I decided to take a bath which I was completing as Ken pulled up outside ; we didn't hang around for long, I abandoned brushing my teeth half way through and we put a couple of odds and ends in the car I think. When we did arrive we practically ran through the security doors to his room, a Nurse whom I recognised and who recognised us both came out with a very worried look on her face to say he had collapsed again and that the medics were with him, could we sit down in the Lounge to await developments, by then I was as white as a sheet and Ken wore a rather resigned air. She came out literally within one minute to announce it was all over, leaving me profoundly grief stricken at the centre of a ghastly tragedy>. When I had sought to get him days out, wanted to know what was this nonsense about non resuscitation, was prepared then and there to take him to my home where he could have died in peace and dignity among friends if that was really all he had left, as my Father's garbled telephone message had implied, but he was lost. There are no words that can possibly describe how appalling I personally felt at that moment.

He was a good and kindly soul whose warmth and compassion will be sorely missed by a world in which these dwindling human virtues have always been in far too short supply. I had come to know and love him as I have known or know very few people in these last months. He knew and understood my Father as no-one else, and though he was confused and incapable his presence was always a healing balm to the irascible incompetence of his Cousin whom I've never understood anything like as properly as in his company. I really don't know what to say, and cannot forgive either myself or the fates that have concocted such a devilish tale for me to enact, standing before him late and useless like a jilted Bridegroom at a Church door, such a fate I would gladly exchange for the utterly ghoulish and profoundly sinister nightmare of the role that I have just played out.

During his time as an entrepreneur he had paid a lot of tax and contributed much to the nation's well being : amongst other things he was the architect of the British Army's first computerised artillery firing system. Serious questions are going to be asked about how anyone could labour for so long, with so little help, under such a burden undiagnosed, let alone someone of his recent standing and eminence.

it will be several weeks at least before I can establish a full, detailed and accurate picture of what happened to this, dearest of friends and noble kinsman, in strictly medical/scientific terms. I salute his memory as a Soldier, Aviator, Captain of Industry, scientific innovator, Connoisseur of fine music and wine, and as a man who appreciated beauty for what it is really worth ; but most of all as a simply great human being whose personal qualities of tolerance, perceptiveness, generosity and plain humanity will remain a shining eternal example for all, and I ask you, to do the same.

In Deepest of Sorrow

Frederick Arthur Kevin Whiting

(Grandson to his Mother's eldest Brother)