Uncle James

My favourite story about Uncle James is to do with his pet goose.

Ever since I can remember, James kept a goose on his lawn. Whilst it had a little wooden house with a gate that it slept in, by day, it was allowed to roam free across the green. Its wings had been clipped so it couldn’t fly away. Perhaps out of resentful anger at the wing clipping, the goose was very bitter.

My family lived in a part of James’ house when we moved back to England after I was born, and as a little girl, that goose was a source of constant terror for me. Just stepping out of the back door meant you were in the goose’s territory. I’d see it poke it’s head over a little wall, it’s beady eye glaring at me with ferocious insanity. Many times, it would chase me around, spreading its wings wide, flapping and honking, waddling towards me faster than my two year old legs could run. One time it even knocked me over, although I was unhurt, Mum was pretty mad about it.

The goose survived long after we moved out, and even though it didn’t have a name, James really loved that goose, regardless of its grumpy, attacking tendencies. A few years ago, James woke up one morning to find the goose had been slaughtered during the night by a fox. I wasn’t there to see his reaction but what he did next showed just how upset he was.

James kept a caravan on the lawn, which he would sit in during the day, passing the time by enjoying the sunshine and the wonderful view of the moors it afforded him from it’s position. As soon as he saw a fox had killed the goose, he cut a hole in the caravan door. He invited his friend Roland around and they stayed overnight in that caravan for days, poking a gun out of the hole he cut, waiting for that fox to return so they could exact their revenge.

Sadly, the fox never came back, and so James was never able to avenge his beloved goose’s death. But for me, that story really reflects James’ character. He’s grumpy and stubborn, yet loyal and loving. He never has a lot to say, but when he does, it’s with a wry grin and plenty of swearing.

When we moved out of James’, my family lived a minutes walk down the street, and would visit regularly. I remember James’ chocolate cupboard was something we would always look forward to. He would shuffle from his chair to the kitchen and rustle around in there, usually producing a Mars bar or packet of crisps each.

As we grew older, James regaled us with tales of his life, how he’d been made to work in the coal mines curing the second world war rather than fight, how he went to live in Africa for many years, referring to the natives as ‘nig nogs’, a phrase we always cringe at but could never stop him saying. He told us these stories in such a thick Lancashire accent, there were only bits of each sentence that I could understand, but the parts you heard were always so interesting, or funny, or at times almost unbelieveable.

A month ago, James was rushed to hospital with stomach problems. I flew straight out from Belgium to visit him. He’d pestered me for a couple of years to give up smoking, and so I proudly took the oppurtunity to tell him I’d managed to quit completely, thinking he’d be over the moon. Perhaps in my absence I forgot how deep his grumpiness ran, as all I got in response was "Well. You should’ve never bloody started in the first place!". Touche, James.

James’ health deteriorated quickly, and I arrived in England just under a week ago to see him lying in the front bedroom of his house, so he could still have that fantastic view of the moors he so often watched during the last few years. He was very weak and had trouble recognising those around him. He was resfusing to see any of his old friends because he knew he looked very ill.

True to form, James had requested for there to be no announcements, no funeral service, and no fuss. His only request was for an Elm wood coffin, a strong wood that doesn’t split or break easily, and is resistant to decay. Typical that even when planning for his passing, he was practical and understated.

On the third day of my visit, with my Dad by his side, James peacefully passed away.

RIP Uncle James

XxX