The Eulogy of Gerald Roy Beckford
(1950-2023)
Dad was born Gerald Roy Beckford in Clairvale Road, St. Helier, on Monday, January 9th, 1950, the son of Roy Emille Eugene Beckford, a roofer, and Rose Gwendolyn Beckford (née Rimeur), a housewife.
Dad's primary education was at St. Saviour's School; he then went on to attend Hautlieu School where he gained several O-levels. He was, by all accounts, a very capable student.
In the late 1960s and early 1970s, dad was not the silver-headed man that we all know and love. Back then, he wore a long mane of auburn hair that fell well past his shoulders. Those who knew him back in those early days will remember a young man enamoured with the music of the day, a person captivated by the likes of Bob Dylan, the Stones, and the poetry of Leonard Cohen. Dad was a guitarist, a poet, and lyricist, and he took his music and writing seriously. In August of 1970, he visited the Isle of Wight Rock Festival with my mother, where they saw such acts as the Doors, Joan Baez, the Moody Blues, Emerson Lake and Palmer, Miles Davis, and the headline and last live performance of Jimi Hendrix.
Dad married my mother in April of 1971, and in May of that same year, they moved to Southampton to pursue dad's music and poetry. In the evenings, he played in the local bars in and around the then notorious Denzil Avenue, where they lived until they moved back to Jersey in October of that same year. The music industry was a difficult one to break into, but Dad nevertheless felt inspired and brave enough to leave Jersey and to expose himself to a different way of life. After all, he once said, you cannot be truly inspired sitting at home; you must get out into the real world and experience it first-hand. In those heady days, they had no money, and they would hitch rides, his acoustic guitar slung on his back, just a young couple living free of the material trappings of everyday life. Dad's music career never took off, but of course, there is so much honour in having tried.
As the years went by, dad never fell out of love with music, and it played an important part in his life right up until the very end. Following their return to Jersey, dad went on to work for Spinners Suppliers and Kentredder, where he laboured in sheet metal fabrication and as a lathe operator. In September of 1978, my parents adopted me from Guernsey, and then two years later, my sister Jodie.
Undoubtedly, the prospect of impending parenthood played a pivotal role in dad's decision in late 1978, to apply for a position within the States of Jersey Police. However, his initial attempt at joining the force was met with a setback: his height! Standing at a modest 5'8", inches, he fell short of the required physical attribute and his application was refused. This initial rejection did not dissuade his ambition, and he allegedly managed to talk his way in on the second attempt. Once he had joined the force, his diminutive stature quite rightly became a legitimate target for banter and plenty of micky-taking, and it was not long before he received the unfortunate and entirely apt nickname of P.O.R.G., which stood for Person Of Restricted Growth.
Dad officially joined the force in April of 1979 and undertook the rigorous initial training at the Police Training Centre in Ashford, Kent. During his two decades on the force, he served on the firearms team and there was also a stint in CID. Dad kept a personal scrapbook of newspaper cuttings relating to cases in which he had been involved, ranging from arrests, armed responses, and some close calls, including a car crash in 1987. Dad was a backseat passenger in a Police vehicle that was traveling at high speed along the Five Mile Road during an advanced driving course. There was a collision at La Bray with a Volvo driven by a member of the public. It was extremely fortunate that nobody was killed, and dad and his three colleagues received bruises and whiplash injuries. The driver of the Volvo, the same. Dad returned to work several days later.
Today, dad is still fondly remembered by his former colleagues as a respected Police Officer and tutor constable—a role in which he trained new officers, some of whom would later rise to the higher ranks in the force. We had the pleasure of reading some of the comments on the former Jersey Police Officers Facebook group, and we would like to say thank you to dad's former colleagues for their kindness and the memories they have shared. We know he loved working with you all. Dad was clearly well-liked and respected for his work and brought his unique brand of humour and fun to what at times could be a stressful job. Dad apparently knew all the coffee shops, and I recall him telling us that the rear entrance to Pizza Express was a favourite stop for garlic bread on nights.
Dad was also involved in the social side of the Police force and was a member of the Police Athletic and Social Club, where he played snooker for the police B team. I eventually joined the team in the 90s and can remember the first time my dad invited me to the Police Club. I loved my dad and always enjoyed my time spent with him. He was always there for me, and I have my dad to thank for our mutual interests, including our love of music. Some of you will already know that dad also pursued a brief and, we were told, somewhat profitable screen acting career. In the late 80s and early 90s, he made several appearances as a Police Officer in the popular television detective series Bergerac, an experience he looked back on with some joy. Above all, dad was immensely proud to have served as a States of Jersey Police Officer.
Throughout the years, dad cultivated valuable friendships, yet among his most cherished companions were books. His intellectual pursuits spanned a diverse array of subjects, encompassing amongst others, military history, politics, sociology, English history, and biographical literature. Dad's profound affection for history, particularly his fascination with the American Civil War, led him in 2001 to begin a degree course with the Open University. For a span of six years, he dedicated himself to study and in 2007 he attained an undergraduate honours degree in History. When dad directed his focus towards a goal, he became totally invested—a trait we esteemed and admired. His graduation in 2007 is still remembered as a proud day for our family.
Dad was a cheeky chap with, at times, a risqué sense of humour—one that may not have appealed to everyone's taste—but he brought along with his humour a charm and a reassurance that wherever he went and whatever he did, he would be okay. Dad after all, at his roots, was a people person, and looking back, this is clear in his career choices and how well he was liked by so many whose lives he touched. Those who knew him well understood that not very far beneath the surface there was also a very sensitive man who cared deeply about his family and friends. Dad's relationship with his sisters, Gloria and Carolyn, was close, and from a young age, he was always very loyal and looked out for their well-being.
Gloria and Carolyn were, without exception, the only people who could really get away with calling their brother Gerald, and this was frequently used when attempting to tease their brother and in concerted efforts to entice Gerald to do something that was clearly in his best interest but with equal measure, he had no desire of doing. My dad also understood that you are never too old to be chastised by your elder sister. Gloria and Carolyn's love for their brother was without question, and this love was certainly reciprocated for the duration of dad's seventy-three years. While he was, in many respects, a private person, he felt able to confide in his sisters some of his most private concerns, and this was particularly important during his periods of poor health.
Dad did have some health problems, and he developed both bowel and bladder cancer, which he bravely dealt with head-on. He was never one for any kind of fuss, and he just got on with things and enjoyed life. Despite the difficulties, dad was able to maintain his independence and would frequently venture into town on the bus to do his shopping. Dad also enjoyed meals out and spending time with his family and took occasional trips with friends to such locations as Krakow in Poland.
Dad was not really one to talk about his feelings, but he did say to me not that long ago how proud he was of Jodie, both as a daughter and as a wonderful mother to three of his grandchildren: Samuel, Kayleigh, and Cameron. Dad loved us all in equal measure, and he was a fantastic father who was always there for us. My sister Jodie was always daddy's little girl, and she and dad became very close over the years. Dad knew Jodie and I would always be there for him.
On the 27th of July 2022, Wiola and I became parents to a beautiful baby girl whom we named Lily Victoria Beckford. Dad was, to say the least, over the moon to have another grandchild, and to see his face light up in her company was wonderful. We celebrated Lily's 1st birthday on the 30th of July. Dad was there, along with the rest of the family. It was a wonderful day, but we could never have imagined that it would be the last time we would speak.
It is difficult to sum up what our father meant to us in just a few words, but our love for our father, grandad, and brother is clearly exposed in the grief we now feel in our hearts in losing him. And isn't it the heart that offers us a clue to what really matters?
Saying goodbye to someone you love is perhaps one of the hardest things, but as my sister once said to me, goodbye is not the end; it simply means we'll miss you, dad, until we meet again.
(1950-2023)
Dad was born Gerald Roy Beckford in Clairvale Road, St. Helier, on Monday, January 9th, 1950, the son of Roy Emille Eugene Beckford, a roofer, and Rose Gwendolyn Beckford (née Rimeur), a housewife.
Dad's primary education was at St. Saviour's School; he then went on to attend Hautlieu School where he gained several O-levels. He was, by all accounts, a very capable student.
In the late 1960s and early 1970s, dad was not the silver-headed man that we all know and love. Back then, he wore a long mane of auburn hair that fell well past his shoulders. Those who knew him back in those early days will remember a young man enamoured with the music of the day, a person captivated by the likes of Bob Dylan, the Stones, and the poetry of Leonard Cohen. Dad was a guitarist, a poet, and lyricist, and he took his music and writing seriously. In August of 1970, he visited the Isle of Wight Rock Festival with my mother, where they saw such acts as the Doors, Joan Baez, the Moody Blues, Emerson Lake and Palmer, Miles Davis, and the headline and last live performance of Jimi Hendrix.
Dad married my mother in April of 1971, and in May of that same year, they moved to Southampton to pursue dad's music and poetry. In the evenings, he played in the local bars in and around the then notorious Denzil Avenue, where they lived until they moved back to Jersey in October of that same year. The music industry was a difficult one to break into, but Dad nevertheless felt inspired and brave enough to leave Jersey and to expose himself to a different way of life. After all, he once said, you cannot be truly inspired sitting at home; you must get out into the real world and experience it first-hand. In those heady days, they had no money, and they would hitch rides, his acoustic guitar slung on his back, just a young couple living free of the material trappings of everyday life. Dad's music career never took off, but of course, there is so much honour in having tried.
As the years went by, dad never fell out of love with music, and it played an important part in his life right up until the very end. Following their return to Jersey, dad went on to work for Spinners Suppliers and Kentredder, where he laboured in sheet metal fabrication and as a lathe operator. In September of 1978, my parents adopted me from Guernsey, and then two years later, my sister Jodie.
Undoubtedly, the prospect of impending parenthood played a pivotal role in dad's decision in late 1978, to apply for a position within the States of Jersey Police. However, his initial attempt at joining the force was met with a setback: his height! Standing at a modest 5'8", inches, he fell short of the required physical attribute and his application was refused. This initial rejection did not dissuade his ambition, and he allegedly managed to talk his way in on the second attempt. Once he had joined the force, his diminutive stature quite rightly became a legitimate target for banter and plenty of micky-taking, and it was not long before he received the unfortunate and entirely apt nickname of P.O.R.G., which stood for Person Of Restricted Growth.
Dad officially joined the force in April of 1979 and undertook the rigorous initial training at the Police Training Centre in Ashford, Kent. During his two decades on the force, he served on the firearms team and there was also a stint in CID. Dad kept a personal scrapbook of newspaper cuttings relating to cases in which he had been involved, ranging from arrests, armed responses, and some close calls, including a car crash in 1987. Dad was a backseat passenger in a Police vehicle that was traveling at high speed along the Five Mile Road during an advanced driving course. There was a collision at La Bray with a Volvo driven by a member of the public. It was extremely fortunate that nobody was killed, and dad and his three colleagues received bruises and whiplash injuries. The driver of the Volvo, the same. Dad returned to work several days later.
Today, dad is still fondly remembered by his former colleagues as a respected Police Officer and tutor constable—a role in which he trained new officers, some of whom would later rise to the higher ranks in the force. We had the pleasure of reading some of the comments on the former Jersey Police Officers Facebook group, and we would like to say thank you to dad's former colleagues for their kindness and the memories they have shared. We know he loved working with you all. Dad was clearly well-liked and respected for his work and brought his unique brand of humour and fun to what at times could be a stressful job. Dad apparently knew all the coffee shops, and I recall him telling us that the rear entrance to Pizza Express was a favourite stop for garlic bread on nights.
Dad was also involved in the social side of the Police force and was a member of the Police Athletic and Social Club, where he played snooker for the police B team. I eventually joined the team in the 90s and can remember the first time my dad invited me to the Police Club. I loved my dad and always enjoyed my time spent with him. He was always there for me, and I have my dad to thank for our mutual interests, including our love of music. Some of you will already know that dad also pursued a brief and, we were told, somewhat profitable screen acting career. In the late 80s and early 90s, he made several appearances as a Police Officer in the popular television detective series Bergerac, an experience he looked back on with some joy. Above all, dad was immensely proud to have served as a States of Jersey Police Officer.
Throughout the years, dad cultivated valuable friendships, yet among his most cherished companions were books. His intellectual pursuits spanned a diverse array of subjects, encompassing amongst others, military history, politics, sociology, English history, and biographical literature. Dad's profound affection for history, particularly his fascination with the American Civil War, led him in 2001 to begin a degree course with the Open University. For a span of six years, he dedicated himself to study and in 2007 he attained an undergraduate honours degree in History. When dad directed his focus towards a goal, he became totally invested—a trait we esteemed and admired. His graduation in 2007 is still remembered as a proud day for our family.
Dad was a cheeky chap with, at times, a risqué sense of humour—one that may not have appealed to everyone's taste—but he brought along with his humour a charm and a reassurance that wherever he went and whatever he did, he would be okay. Dad after all, at his roots, was a people person, and looking back, this is clear in his career choices and how well he was liked by so many whose lives he touched. Those who knew him well understood that not very far beneath the surface there was also a very sensitive man who cared deeply about his family and friends. Dad's relationship with his sisters, Gloria and Carolyn, was close, and from a young age, he was always very loyal and looked out for their well-being.
Gloria and Carolyn were, without exception, the only people who could really get away with calling their brother Gerald, and this was frequently used when attempting to tease their brother and in concerted efforts to entice Gerald to do something that was clearly in his best interest but with equal measure, he had no desire of doing. My dad also understood that you are never too old to be chastised by your elder sister. Gloria and Carolyn's love for their brother was without question, and this love was certainly reciprocated for the duration of dad's seventy-three years. While he was, in many respects, a private person, he felt able to confide in his sisters some of his most private concerns, and this was particularly important during his periods of poor health.
Dad did have some health problems, and he developed both bowel and bladder cancer, which he bravely dealt with head-on. He was never one for any kind of fuss, and he just got on with things and enjoyed life. Despite the difficulties, dad was able to maintain his independence and would frequently venture into town on the bus to do his shopping. Dad also enjoyed meals out and spending time with his family and took occasional trips with friends to such locations as Krakow in Poland.
Dad was not really one to talk about his feelings, but he did say to me not that long ago how proud he was of Jodie, both as a daughter and as a wonderful mother to three of his grandchildren: Samuel, Kayleigh, and Cameron. Dad loved us all in equal measure, and he was a fantastic father who was always there for us. My sister Jodie was always daddy's little girl, and she and dad became very close over the years. Dad knew Jodie and I would always be there for him.
On the 27th of July 2022, Wiola and I became parents to a beautiful baby girl whom we named Lily Victoria Beckford. Dad was, to say the least, over the moon to have another grandchild, and to see his face light up in her company was wonderful. We celebrated Lily's 1st birthday on the 30th of July. Dad was there, along with the rest of the family. It was a wonderful day, but we could never have imagined that it would be the last time we would speak.
It is difficult to sum up what our father meant to us in just a few words, but our love for our father, grandad, and brother is clearly exposed in the grief we now feel in our hearts in losing him. And isn't it the heart that offers us a clue to what really matters?
Saying goodbye to someone you love is perhaps one of the hardest things, but as my sister once said to me, goodbye is not the end; it simply means we'll miss you, dad, until we meet again.
The Eulogy of Gerald Roy Beckford
(1950-2023)
Dad was born Gerald Roy Beckford in Clairvale Road, St. Helier, on Monday, January 9th, 1950, the son of Roy Emille Eugene Beckford, a roofer, and Rose Gwendolyn Beckford (née Rimeur), a housewife.
Dad's primary education was at St. Saviour's School; he then went on to attend Hautlieu School where he gained several O-levels. He was, by all accounts, a very capable student.
In the late 1960s and early 1970s, dad was not the silver-headed man that we all know and love. Back then, he wore a long mane of auburn hair that fell well past his shoulders. Those who knew him back in those early days will remember a young man enamoured with the music of the day, a person captivated by the likes of Bob Dylan, the Stones, and the poetry of Leonard Cohen. Dad was a guitarist, a poet, and lyricist, and he took his music and writing seriously. In August of 1970, he visited the Isle of Wight Rock Festival with my mother, where they saw such acts as the Doors, Joan Baez, the Moody Blues, Emerson Lake and Palmer, Miles Davis, and the headline and last live performance of Jimi Hendrix.
Dad married my mother in April of 1971, and in May of that same year, they moved to Southampton to pursue dad's music and poetry. In the evenings, he played in the local bars in and around the then notorious Denzil Avenue, where they lived until they moved back to Jersey in October of that same year. The music industry was a difficult one to break into, but Dad nevertheless felt inspired and brave enough to leave Jersey and to expose himself to a different way of life. After all, he once said, you cannot be truly inspired sitting at home; you must get out into the real world and experience it first-hand. In those heady days, they had no money, and they would hitch rides, his acoustic guitar slung on his back, just a young couple living free of the material trappings of everyday life. Dad's music career never took off, but of course, there is so much honour in having tried.
As the years went by, dad never fell out of love with music, and it played an important part in his life right up until the very end. Following their return to Jersey, dad went on to work for Spinners Suppliers and Kentredder, where he laboured in sheet metal fabrication and as a lathe operator. In September of 1978, my parents adopted me from Guernsey, and then two years later, my sister Jodie.
Undoubtedly, the prospect of impending parenthood played a pivotal role in dad's decision in late 1978, to apply for a position within the States of Jersey Police. However, his initial attempt at joining the force was met with a setback: his height! Standing at a modest 5'8", inches, he fell short of the required physical attribute and his application was refused. This initial rejection did not dissuade his ambition, and he allegedly managed to talk his way in on the second attempt. Once he had joined the force, his diminutive stature quite rightly became a legitimate target for banter and plenty of micky-taking, and it was not long before he received the unfortunate and entirely apt nickname of P.O.R.G., which stood for Person Of Restricted Growth.
Dad officially joined the force in April of 1979 and undertook the rigorous initial training at the Police Training Centre in Ashford, Kent. During his two decades on the force, he served on the firearms team and there was also a stint in CID. Dad kept a personal scrapbook of newspaper cuttings relating to cases in which he had been involved, ranging from arrests, armed responses, and some close calls, including a car crash in 1987. Dad was a backseat passenger in a Police vehicle that was traveling at high speed along the Five Mile Road during an advanced driving course. There was a collision at La Bray with a Volvo driven by a member of the public. It was extremely fortunate that nobody was killed, and dad and his three colleagues received bruises and whiplash injuries. The driver of the Volvo, the same. Dad returned to work several days later.
Today, dad is still fondly remembered by his former colleagues as a respected Police Officer and tutor constable—a role in which he trained new officers, some of whom would later rise to the higher ranks in the force. We had the pleasure of reading some of the comments on the former Jersey Police Officers Facebook group, and we would like to say thank you to dad's former colleagues for their kindness and the memories they have shared. We know he loved working with you all. Dad was clearly well-liked and respected for his work and brought his unique brand of humour and fun to what at times could be a stressful job. Dad apparently knew all the coffee shops, and I recall him telling us that the rear entrance to Pizza Express was a favourite stop for garlic bread on nights.
Dad was also involved in the social side of the Police force and was a member of the Police Athletic and Social Club, where he played snooker for the police B team. I eventually joined the team in the 90s and can remember the first time my dad invited me to the Police Club. I loved my dad and always enjoyed my time spent with him. He was always there for me, and I have my dad to thank for our mutual interests, including our love of music. Some of you will already know that dad also pursued a brief and, we were told, somewhat profitable screen acting career. In the late 80s and early 90s, he made several appearances as a Police Officer in the popular television detective series Bergerac, an experience he looked back on with some joy. Above all, dad was immensely proud to have served as a States of Jersey Police Officer.
Throughout the years, dad cultivated valuable friendships, yet among his most cherished companions were books. His intellectual pursuits spanned a diverse array of subjects, encompassing amongst others, military history, politics, sociology, English history, and biographical literature. Dad's profound affection for history, particularly his fascination with the American Civil War, led him in 2001 to begin a degree course with the Open University. For a span of six years, he dedicated himself to study and in 2007 he attained an undergraduate honours degree in History. When dad directed his focus towards a goal, he became totally invested—a trait we esteemed and admired. His graduation in 2007 is still remembered as a proud day for our family.
Dad was a cheeky chap with, at times, a risqué sense of humour—one that may not have appealed to everyone's taste—but he brought along with his humour a charm and a reassurance that wherever he went and whatever he did, he would be okay. Dad after all, at his roots, was a people person, and looking back, this is clear in his career choices and how well he was liked by so many whose lives he touched. Those who knew him well understood that not very far beneath the surface there was also a very sensitive man who cared deeply about his family and friends. Dad's relationship with his sisters, Gloria and Carolyn, was close, and from a young age, he was always very loyal and looked out for their well-being.
Gloria and Carolyn were, without exception, the only people who could really get away with calling their brother Gerald, and this was frequently used when attempting to tease their brother and in concerted efforts to entice Gerald to do something that was clearly in his best interest but with equal measure, he had no desire of doing. My dad also understood that you are never too old to be chastised by your elder sister. Gloria and Carolyn's love for their brother was without question, and this love was certainly reciprocated for the duration of dad's seventy-three years. While he was, in many respects, a private person, he felt able to confide in his sisters some of his most private concerns, and this was particularly important during his periods of poor health.
Dad did have some health problems, and he developed both bowel and bladder cancer, which he bravely dealt with head-on. He was never one for any kind of fuss, and he just got on with things and enjoyed life. Despite the difficulties, dad was able to maintain his independence and would frequently venture into town on the bus to do his shopping. Dad also enjoyed meals out and spending time with his family and took occasional trips with friends to such locations as Krakow in Poland.
Dad was not really one to talk about his feelings, but he did say to me not that long ago how proud he was of Jodie, both as a daughter and as a wonderful mother to three of his grandchildren: Samuel, Kayleigh, and Cameron. Dad loved us all in equal measure, and he was a fantastic father who was always there for us. My sister Jodie was always daddy's little girl, and she and dad became very close over the years. Dad knew Jodie and I would always be there for him.
On the 27th of July 2022, Wiola and I became parents to a beautiful baby girl whom we named Lily Victoria Beckford. Dad was, to say the least, over the moon to have another grandchild, and to see his face light up in her company was wonderful. We celebrated Lily's 1st birthday on the 30th of July. Dad was there, along with the rest of the family. It was a wonderful day, but we could never have imagined that it would be the last time we would speak.
It is difficult to sum up what our father meant to us in just a few words, but our love for our father, grandad, and brother is clearly exposed in the grief we now feel in our hearts in losing him. And isn't it the heart that offers us a clue to what really matters?
Saying goodbye to someone you love is perhaps one of the hardest things, but as my sister once said to me, goodbye is not the end; it simply means we'll miss you, dad, until we meet again.
(1950-2023)
Dad was born Gerald Roy Beckford in Clairvale Road, St. Helier, on Monday, January 9th, 1950, the son of Roy Emille Eugene Beckford, a roofer, and Rose Gwendolyn Beckford (née Rimeur), a housewife.
Dad's primary education was at St. Saviour's School; he then went on to attend Hautlieu School where he gained several O-levels. He was, by all accounts, a very capable student.
In the late 1960s and early 1970s, dad was not the silver-headed man that we all know and love. Back then, he wore a long mane of auburn hair that fell well past his shoulders. Those who knew him back in those early days will remember a young man enamoured with the music of the day, a person captivated by the likes of Bob Dylan, the Stones, and the poetry of Leonard Cohen. Dad was a guitarist, a poet, and lyricist, and he took his music and writing seriously. In August of 1970, he visited the Isle of Wight Rock Festival with my mother, where they saw such acts as the Doors, Joan Baez, the Moody Blues, Emerson Lake and Palmer, Miles Davis, and the headline and last live performance of Jimi Hendrix.
Dad married my mother in April of 1971, and in May of that same year, they moved to Southampton to pursue dad's music and poetry. In the evenings, he played in the local bars in and around the then notorious Denzil Avenue, where they lived until they moved back to Jersey in October of that same year. The music industry was a difficult one to break into, but Dad nevertheless felt inspired and brave enough to leave Jersey and to expose himself to a different way of life. After all, he once said, you cannot be truly inspired sitting at home; you must get out into the real world and experience it first-hand. In those heady days, they had no money, and they would hitch rides, his acoustic guitar slung on his back, just a young couple living free of the material trappings of everyday life. Dad's music career never took off, but of course, there is so much honour in having tried.
As the years went by, dad never fell out of love with music, and it played an important part in his life right up until the very end. Following their return to Jersey, dad went on to work for Spinners Suppliers and Kentredder, where he laboured in sheet metal fabrication and as a lathe operator. In September of 1978, my parents adopted me from Guernsey, and then two years later, my sister Jodie.
Undoubtedly, the prospect of impending parenthood played a pivotal role in dad's decision in late 1978, to apply for a position within the States of Jersey Police. However, his initial attempt at joining the force was met with a setback: his height! Standing at a modest 5'8", inches, he fell short of the required physical attribute and his application was refused. This initial rejection did not dissuade his ambition, and he allegedly managed to talk his way in on the second attempt. Once he had joined the force, his diminutive stature quite rightly became a legitimate target for banter and plenty of micky-taking, and it was not long before he received the unfortunate and entirely apt nickname of P.O.R.G., which stood for Person Of Restricted Growth.
Dad officially joined the force in April of 1979 and undertook the rigorous initial training at the Police Training Centre in Ashford, Kent. During his two decades on the force, he served on the firearms team and there was also a stint in CID. Dad kept a personal scrapbook of newspaper cuttings relating to cases in which he had been involved, ranging from arrests, armed responses, and some close calls, including a car crash in 1987. Dad was a backseat passenger in a Police vehicle that was traveling at high speed along the Five Mile Road during an advanced driving course. There was a collision at La Bray with a Volvo driven by a member of the public. It was extremely fortunate that nobody was killed, and dad and his three colleagues received bruises and whiplash injuries. The driver of the Volvo, the same. Dad returned to work several days later.
Today, dad is still fondly remembered by his former colleagues as a respected Police Officer and tutor constable—a role in which he trained new officers, some of whom would later rise to the higher ranks in the force. We had the pleasure of reading some of the comments on the former Jersey Police Officers Facebook group, and we would like to say thank you to dad's former colleagues for their kindness and the memories they have shared. We know he loved working with you all. Dad was clearly well-liked and respected for his work and brought his unique brand of humour and fun to what at times could be a stressful job. Dad apparently knew all the coffee shops, and I recall him telling us that the rear entrance to Pizza Express was a favourite stop for garlic bread on nights.
Dad was also involved in the social side of the Police force and was a member of the Police Athletic and Social Club, where he played snooker for the police B team. I eventually joined the team in the 90s and can remember the first time my dad invited me to the Police Club. I loved my dad and always enjoyed my time spent with him. He was always there for me, and I have my dad to thank for our mutual interests, including our love of music. Some of you will already know that dad also pursued a brief and, we were told, somewhat profitable screen acting career. In the late 80s and early 90s, he made several appearances as a Police Officer in the popular television detective series Bergerac, an experience he looked back on with some joy. Above all, dad was immensely proud to have served as a States of Jersey Police Officer.
Throughout the years, dad cultivated valuable friendships, yet among his most cherished companions were books. His intellectual pursuits spanned a diverse array of subjects, encompassing amongst others, military history, politics, sociology, English history, and biographical literature. Dad's profound affection for history, particularly his fascination with the American Civil War, led him in 2001 to begin a degree course with the Open University. For a span of six years, he dedicated himself to study and in 2007 he attained an undergraduate honours degree in History. When dad directed his focus towards a goal, he became totally invested—a trait we esteemed and admired. His graduation in 2007 is still remembered as a proud day for our family.
Dad was a cheeky chap with, at times, a risqué sense of humour—one that may not have appealed to everyone's taste—but he brought along with his humour a charm and a reassurance that wherever he went and whatever he did, he would be okay. Dad after all, at his roots, was a people person, and looking back, this is clear in his career choices and how well he was liked by so many whose lives he touched. Those who knew him well understood that not very far beneath the surface there was also a very sensitive man who cared deeply about his family and friends. Dad's relationship with his sisters, Gloria and Carolyn, was close, and from a young age, he was always very loyal and looked out for their well-being.
Gloria and Carolyn were, without exception, the only people who could really get away with calling their brother Gerald, and this was frequently used when attempting to tease their brother and in concerted efforts to entice Gerald to do something that was clearly in his best interest but with equal measure, he had no desire of doing. My dad also understood that you are never too old to be chastised by your elder sister. Gloria and Carolyn's love for their brother was without question, and this love was certainly reciprocated for the duration of dad's seventy-three years. While he was, in many respects, a private person, he felt able to confide in his sisters some of his most private concerns, and this was particularly important during his periods of poor health.
Dad did have some health problems, and he developed both bowel and bladder cancer, which he bravely dealt with head-on. He was never one for any kind of fuss, and he just got on with things and enjoyed life. Despite the difficulties, dad was able to maintain his independence and would frequently venture into town on the bus to do his shopping. Dad also enjoyed meals out and spending time with his family and took occasional trips with friends to such locations as Krakow in Poland.
Dad was not really one to talk about his feelings, but he did say to me not that long ago how proud he was of Jodie, both as a daughter and as a wonderful mother to three of his grandchildren: Samuel, Kayleigh, and Cameron. Dad loved us all in equal measure, and he was a fantastic father who was always there for us. My sister Jodie was always daddy's little girl, and she and dad became very close over the years. Dad knew Jodie and I would always be there for him.
On the 27th of July 2022, Wiola and I became parents to a beautiful baby girl whom we named Lily Victoria Beckford. Dad was, to say the least, over the moon to have another grandchild, and to see his face light up in her company was wonderful. We celebrated Lily's 1st birthday on the 30th of July. Dad was there, along with the rest of the family. It was a wonderful day, but we could never have imagined that it would be the last time we would speak.
It is difficult to sum up what our father meant to us in just a few words, but our love for our father, grandad, and brother is clearly exposed in the grief we now feel in our hearts in losing him. And isn't it the heart that offers us a clue to what really matters?
Saying goodbye to someone you love is perhaps one of the hardest things, but as my sister once said to me, goodbye is not the end; it simply means we'll miss you, dad, until we meet again.
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