A South London boy, a Royal Air Force serviceman, a dancer, a photographer, a salesman and businessman, a tennis player and coach, a hiker, a chef, a life-long Chelsea Football Club supporter, a loving husband, father, father-in-law and grandfather and a great friend.
Jim died of Motor Neurone Disease in January 2009. His family are committed to honouring his name and fundraising for the MND Association.
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14th May 2007
“WHO ARE YER” JAMES EDWARD BAILEY
BORN 24th AUGUST 1937 AT THE GENERAL LYING-IN HOSPITAL, SOUTHWARK. Still there but not in use, it is directly across from the Houses of Parliament on the ‘Sowff’ side of the river. Not sure how my mum got there; probably on a bus from Clapham. My dad visited in the evening on his bike with his foot in plaster (a football injury). My dad being the eldest of thirteen and my mum from five she should have had plenty of visitors.
By the time I could remember much the war had started (1939). Maybe when I was 3 or 4 I went to stay with my Aunt Annie and Uncle Ernie at Lynne (near Ian and Gilly) not far from Chertsey/Addlestone. I do not remember too much of this except we had good home cooked food, mostly caught or shot by Uncle Ernie. I remember he was in the Home Guard and parades ended at the Pub. It was exciting for me to meet there and have a drink with Mannering’s finest. He was well known in Chertsey as he worked all his later life running the signal box and level crossing.
After my stay I moved back home to Pensbury St. (off Wandsworth Rd about half way between Clapham Junction and Vauxhall). This was a 2 up - 2 down, outside loo plus back yard property with gas lighting. At the end of the war it would be condemned by the then Labour government and listed for SLUM CLEARANCE. It would then have to wait until about 1956 to be bulldozed and my mum and dad given a new Council house.
Back to SW8 meant seeing that we now had a street shelter and were ready for the bombing to start. Gas masks had been issued along with Ration books for everything, clothes, furniture, fruit, veg. and meat, of course. Sweets were few and far between. By now my Dad was in the Army under training somewhere in England, I never understood where he was, except for one time when he took me back to camp with him, against all Army regulations.
I wrote this after we came back from Norfolk last year. I have decided to continue with it but to give it some headings. If you have any questions let me know and I will try to include them and send you parts as I finish them.
1. Wartime 1939-45
2. my mum and dad’s families
3. first school and up to 1948, 11 plus exam
4. senior school “what’s he good at”; leave school 1952
5. 1952 jobs 1 and 2 and getting ready for national service
6. photography years 55-1962 and 1960 MEET SAINT IRENE
7. a new career, a salesman is born
8. our three children arrive where and when
I THINK I WILL WORK ON THIS BEFORE I GO ANY FURTHER.
Watch this space!
Hope up for it.
Love Dad xxx
On 24th August, James William and Elsie Lillian Bailey had a baby boy, James Edward Bailey - “Jimmy”. He was born at the General Lying-In Hospital, Southwark, London. He has two sisters, Joyce and Sheila.
1939 - A childhood living in London during the Blitz.
1952 - Jim left Tennyson Secondary School and worked as a “runner” for a photographic news agency in Fleet Street and then for the National Union of Agricultural Workers.
1955 - Jim entered the Royal Air Force. After training he was stationed in Germany with the 4th Mobile Field Photographic Section and also at R.A.F. Cottesmore. Early in his service he met Trevor and Peter who were to remain his best friends for fifty years.
1958 - Jim met Peggy at a dance at Wimbledon Town Hall. Instead of an engagement ring they bought a Lambretta scooter so Jim could ride from R.A.F. Cottesmore to see Peggy in Surrey on his leave.
1959 - Jim and Peggy’s first visit to the Lake District - it became one of their favourite places in the world.
1960 - Jim left the R.A.F. and went to work for Smee’s in Manchester Square as a photographer.
1962 - On the 24th March, Jim and Peggy married at St. Andrew’s Church, Ham.
1962 - Jim loved the line in the ‘The Graduate’- “I have just one word to say to you: Plastics”. He began working as a salesman for Muehlstein-Northwestern in Berkeley Square - an American plastics company.
1963 - Jim started playing tennis.
1965 - Jane Louise Bailey born.
1966 - Jim and two colleagues left Muehlstein’s to start Luxus, based on Ebury Street.
1966 - Ian James Bailey born.
1969 - Suzanne Louise Bailey born.
1974 - Partner in Strom Plastics, based in Kettering.
1977 - Set up his own companies: JBThermoplastics and JB Sales.
1983 - Qualified as a Tennis Coach.
1992 - Retired from plastics and became a full-time tennis coach. County Captain for Northamptonshire Boys’and Men’s tennis teams.
1995 - Annabel Bailey born - the first of Jim’s five treasured granddaughters - followed by Mariella, Amber, Venetia and Jenna. Jim gave each of them a tennis racquet the day they were born! Christopher is his only and much-loved grandson.
2007 - Jim turned 70 years old and celebrated with a big party in Norfolk with his family and friends.
Meeting Jim by Trevor
I first met Jim in Germany about September 1955. We were in the R.A.F. and quickly became good friends. I remember being intrigued by his London accent, he was no doubt baffled by my broad North Derbyshire accent. Probably still is!
Jim has always been the most generous of men, with that in mind it wasn’t too long before I asked a favour of him. Jim had a pale blue knitted sweater which was just right for the cool German autumn.
“Could I borrow your sweater Jim?”
“Yeah sure.”
Throughout the years of our friendship I was to hear “Yeah sure” many, many times.
The next favour I asked was, thinking about it now, a bit much. We were all in what was know as 4 M.F.P.S., which stood for 4 Mobile Field Photographic Section. We worked in the basement of a large building, the 2nd Tactical Air Force Headquarters.
There was a rota system for Duty Photographer. This meant that for a month the airman would have a camera, a fairly large, cumbersome wood and bellows job. Jim had already done his stint and as it was a 24 hour a day task he had been called out during one particular night, this was to an accident.
I didn’t know how to work the camera, so when I was told it was my turn, my heart sank. I had passed an ‘exam’ at the ‘school of photography’ in England, but that meant nothing.
What to do! Ask Jim’s help.
Jim was lying on his bed, or pit as they were more widely known.
“Jim”
“Mmm”
“I’ve got a big favour to ask.”
“What is it?”
“If I’m called out to use the camera , will you come with me and work the camera for me?”
“Yeah sure.”
So much relief, no messing about, this was Jim at his brilliant and most generous best.
---
In our room there were five beds, nice and cosy like. Nobby Clark, Jim, Bruce Moore, Peter (along with Jim and myself we were to become the 3 musketeers) and then myself. Jim’s bed was next to the window, good thing as it turned out. We had all been out for a drink one night, and on getting back quite late, Jim felt a bit under the weather and had to open the window, leaning out, he was ill.
Two or three months later Jim’s horticultural career was born. Outside the window had grown a magnificent tomato plant, complete with two very ripe tomatoes on the vine. Jim insisted that everyone look out at his wonderful creation.
Needless to say, no one had the nerve to sample them. Shame!
---
One evening, Jim and myself went out for a drink, as always we had changed in to civvies, after a few drinks, we were making our way back ‘home’, when the conversation went something like this: -
Jim: “Why don’t we go for duty supper?”
Me: “But we’re not on duty.”
Jim: “Let’s try anyway.”
Me: “We’re not in uniform.”
Jim: “Don’t worry about that.”
Duty Corporal: “Have you been on duty?”
Jim: “Yes.”
Duty Corporal: “Sorry, you have to be in uniform, and
prove that you’ve been on duty.”
Jim: “Yeah alright then.”
Me: “Told you we wouldn’t get any supper.”
Jim: “Let’s go and change in to uniform.”
Me: “O.K.”
Changed in to uniform, how daft we must have been, back up to the Duty Corporal.
Duty Corporal: “Have you been on duty?”
Jim and Me: “Yes.”
Duty Corporal: “Go and get your food.”
Food was an awful looking whole fish, bread and a large cup of insipid looking tea. Was it worth it? No!
Before Jim and myself had even sampled any of this ghastly repast, we heard the ominous sound of heavy boots heading our way. Two burly R.A.F. policemen appeared by our table. Oops! We were in trouble.
“We have reason to believe that the food you are consuming has been gained illegally, you are therefore under arrest.”
I look toward Jim, hoping that his London type brain would get us out of this. No such luck. Up to the guardroom. I refused to take my hands out of my pockets, and told the S.P.’s to stop playing, “Bloody tin soldiers.”
Jim was given 4 days ‘jankers’ and I was given 7 days for being ‘bolshie’. Our punishment consisted of dressing in our best uniforms and walking up to the guardhouse at lunchtimes and in the evenings. It wasn’t too bad at all. For 4 days there was Jim to keep me amused, the other 3 days flew by.
---
By now I wasn’t sure whether Jim was a bad influence on me, or the other way round.
---
When I first met Jim, his fellow Southerners called him ‘Jack Spot’ after some character of the day. The reason I mention this is to highlight another one of Jim’s nights out. We had all been drinking one evening, again, and on the way back Jim suddenly started running. This was a most unusual pastime for Jim. Even better was the fact that as he ran, he chanted
“Jack Opek! Jack Opek! Jack Opek!”
He was referring to a fine athlete called Zatopek who had won three gold medals at the recent Olympics. As we caught Jim up, gasping for breath, Jim not us. We knew that Jim’s run for gold, was just as important to him, as Zatopek’s were to himself.
---
Eventually, of course, we all left the R.A.F. I often think that the standard must have risen, after we had all gone, but the laughter and friendships that we enjoyed, and still enjoy, over 50 years later can never be taken away from us.
---
From Peter
The winter of 1956 – HMFPS Germany – the “Boys in Blue” first met - Me, Trevor and Jim. Trevor and I doing our 2yr National Service & Jim slightly longer. It wasn’t as Jim Bailey that I knew him, though. For several months he was “Jack Spot” to me. In the Services you got to meet a lot of those odd people from “up north” - Jim being from South London was quite strange to them and the only person they had heard of from the Smoke was the gangland leader Jack Spot – and so the name stuck. Glennyse’s father, in fact, never called him anything other than “Spot”.
Jim was a tennis fanatic - playing or coaching or talking about tennis in the bar afterwards - it was a great love for him.
Ian is currently writing about Jim's tennis life - please check back.
A Tale of the World Cup 1966 by Jim Bailey
Are we going to the final?
The World Cup Finals approach. Will I be going to any matches? Not very likely, married and with a mortgage to pay. I could only just afford my Chelsea season ticket last year. Without the help of my friend and colleague Augustina J. Fantasia, I would not have made it.
At work we are a band of four Chelsea fanatics. I am on the lowest rung, being PA to the Managing Director of this American/British dealers in Rubber and Plastics - Meuhlstein Northwestern. But it is going to fall to me to produce our longed for tickets to the World Cup.
My new American boss arrives. Tells me I will be very important in helping him to find out what London is all about. I think he means the company, but he is talking about what to wear if he gets to Ascot, Henley, Wimbledon, Glyndebourne, or the Queen's Garden Party. I find him a shirt maker in New Bond Street, a tailor in Saville Row. Also set wheels in motion to get him into the RAC Club. He needs all this, as we are talking about the days when you could tell an American business man as different from any other race on earth...
Not sure what I can do about his polite conversation though. At our first business lunch (I think I am there to tell him to use his knife as well as his fork!) with ICI top executives, all very Public School. He is asked what he thinks of our main competitor in the United States. "We hate their f---ing guts".
We talk a little during lunch about the World Cup. Afterwards he wants to know if I think we should have some tickets for this soccer match. Yes I say, what about four season tickets to Wembley? YES - you organise it, and take a few customers to the games.
Back at the office, I tell the boys, we have four tickets to all the games, plus the FINAL. Loud cheers, this is my finest business deal to date. Our World Cup Committee works out a schedule of who is going to what matches, and we sprinkle in a few customers for appearance sake. No interest in football from my new boss, I think "The Season" in London is taking most of his energy.
All is going well in the tournament and the telex line betwen Berkely Square and our Hamburg office is humming with what we will do to the Germans should they get in England's way. England to play Germany in the FINAL, we are ready and we have the tickets.
My boss returns from a visit to the Hamburg office. "I see you guys are going to play the Germans. I told the Manager in Hamburg to come over for the final and you would give them two tickets". I try not to let him see my crying. Is that what I survived the Blitz for, to be invaded by two Germans on my glory day.
While this has been going on, the Germans have been taunting us a little too much on the telex. It has been too much for my American friend Augie, and he has laid a bet on our behalf of 500 American Dollars that England win. These dollars are worth nearly as much as pounds and so it is a very large bet to share. I take £20 which is a massive amount of the £76 net I earn per month.
Who gets our two tickets? The Committee meets in the Pub, and after crying in its beer for some time, decides it is not able to choose the lucky two who will go to the final from our four-man team. The wisdom of Augie is brought into play. He will go to Wembley the day before the final and see our two tickets to a "scalper" (ticket tout). The proceeds will find the party at Augie/s flat to watch the final on TV. We tell the Germans we will not see them in the seats as we have swapped our two seats for four standing tickets. Augie gets £45 each for the tickets. We have enough booze to last through many finals. The food and the Champagne is the best - it should be, it came from Fortnum & Mason's.
THE FINAL
Our pride and money only is in doubt for a little while, we will win through. The Hamburg office is suitably polite in defeat. The next visitor can collect our winnings, they pay us in D. Marks.
Augie - Augustine John Fantasia, died in England aged 40.
Geoff - Geoffrey Martin, died in England aged 38.
Dave - Dave Thomas, moved to San Antonio, USA, in the 60's.
Jim Bailey, aged 58, still supports Chelsea with his son for company.
This was written in 1996.
Jim and Peggy first visited the Lake District in the late 1950s. It became one of their favourite places to go with friends and family - walking all day and lovely dinners and drinks in the evenings.
Their friend, Peter writes about one of their holidays:
Circa 1997 our attempt to climb Hellvelyn in the Lake District. We didn’t choose the best day weather-wise. In pouring rain and blowing a gale we took the route to the summit via Striding Edge. A hairy ascent at the best of times. High up on the edge it was freezing and we were clinging on for dear life. We did get across it only to find the last knoll before the summit was a sheet of ice – impassable. No way forward and only the icy ridge behind. The vertical drop to one side was not an option either so the choice was down a scree slope on the other. We stumbled and slid – mostly on our back-sides – down into the safety of the valley and the long trek back to base. We spent over 8 hours on the mountain that day without seeing a single soul, such was the weather, but with a wonderful sense of satisfaction.
For me the significance of today is not about my dad’s death but his life, as demonstrated in my brother’s wonderful eulogy.
My dad was a loving husband; he was an amazing father, father–in-law, grandfather and friend. My mum and dad’s very special relationship has been the backbone of our family, the strength and support of our family is due to them. Personally, I feel that their marriage has been an example for me and how I wish to live my life.
My dad was an incredible role model and he supported Ian, Suzanne and me in our diverse paths taking great interest as our lives developed and I know how proud he was of us. To quote my little sister “we are so fortunate: our parents have always been our biggest fans!”
We all have our special recollections of dad - many will include his laughter, friendship and generosity.
One of the most amazing things about my dad was his loyalty to his family, and also his loyalty to his long standing interests, such as tennis and Chelsea, alongside his ability to embrace new interests. Dad shared his enthusiasm and love for them with many of us. For us cooking was a shared passion, my skills and knowledge are, in no small part, down to him. I have precious memories through my life of shared family meals – wonderful occasions, knowing that dad got such enormous pleasure from our company and our enjoyment in his cooking.
This is a sad occasion but please rejoice in my dad’s life and everything that he has given to us. We are lucky to have the memories we have. Dad’s legacy is in what he has given and continues to give us as a family and to all of you whose lives he touched. I will miss him, as I know you will, but I am so grateful to have had the dad I did.
They say you can judge a man by the company he keeps which I think sums dad up perfectly. He was generous in so many ways as a husband, father, grandfather, friend, businessman and tennis coach.
Your attendance today is testament to what he meant to so many people, some of whom I do not know but again this was dad to a tee always eager to make new friends as well as maintain the friendships that in some instances have lasted a lifetime.
The past year has been very hard for all of us – no more so than for mum watching his decline especially as he loved to talk, cook, entertain & drink with all of us over the years.
I just wanted to share a couple of memories that sum dad perfectly for me, some that directly affected me & some others but were typical of who he was.
I was 9 & was bullied at school one day so ran away home to my mum! She immediately phoned dad & he returned from his office just around the corner to pass on a “bit of advice” I was told in no uncertain terms to return seek out the boy & punch him hard as you can son on the nose. Not something as a parent I’d condone but he wanted me to stand up for myself & have some self-respect. Respect was an important trait with dad, always the Good Samaritan I cannot count how many mates came home to stay without consultation but mum & dad welcomed them all. He would also expect us all to treat each other & anyone we met the way we would like to be treated ourselves not something I always found easy with two sisters that were neither tennis players or Chelsea fans.
Chelsea played a huge part of our lives, dad introduced me to the blues early on where our collective patience was truly tested for many years, it was only much later that I understood it was his way to keep in touch, weekly calls home from the Middle East when I was there were filled with match reports & him sending the press clippings of the latest disaster. If I’d not seen him for a while we met at Pizza Express on the Fulham Rd or the black bull to catch up & head off to the bridge for our fix. His ability to embarrass a 14 year old knew no bounds throwing cold meat pies at one game, being spotted by Jerry a 7 ft tall copper who dad knew from the past & playing out a fake arrest to wind me up & not surprisingly standing up to a bunch of Yobs who were chanting racist remarks at black Chelsea players telling them to behave or get out. Remarkable but again this was dad all over.
He could tell a story or two & never more so if he had an audience in the pub, he introduced me to pub life early on. Sundays after tennis was over for the morning we would delay our return for lunch with a couple of beers with the tennis friends & this was something he loved & enjoyed with so many of you here today.
Tennis came late to dad he was 26 & working for an American in Berkeley Square who introduced him to the game, it became another of his loves & I know with the friends he made through Ise Valley originally, KLV & latterly at Oundle gave him a zest for life that meant he had friends young & old.
He would have been taken aback by you all turning up to say your goodbyes as he never liked fuss or expected anything in return for his generosity other than your good company & plenty of laughs along the way & he will have the last laugh when you leave today believe me!
He was my mentor, my mate but mostly my dad & we will all miss him dearly.
For a time as a very small child I secretly thought my Daddy was Fred Astaire. They were confusingly linked in my mind. First of all, my father was a wonderful dancer. Everyone said so and – to me – Fred and my Daddy looked alike. My father was justifiably proud of his dancing medals and I loved watching him playfully whisk my mother round the kitchen as he casually hummed a tune. (Later he patiently spent hours trying to teach me how to dance – once taking the lesson on to our tennis court as I struggled with the turns and we needed a lot of space!) In one of my favourite photographs of my father he looked very like Fred Astaire to me – it was taken in his photographer days – he was an aerial photographer in the Royal Air Force and then worked on Fleet Street when he came out of service. He is striking a model pose against a white background – I learnt later he was setting up the lighting for a shot. He has a broad grin and is looking very sharp with his pressed trousers, crisp white shirt and tie – attention to detail obviously important – even down to the stitching on his shiny shoes. This photograph and the dancing were complemented by watching musical movies with my father from an early age. After watching ‘Funny Face’ in which Fred Astaire is a photographer who dances around the story with Audrey Hepburn the connection was made in my young mind. Quite what Fred Astaire was doing moonlighting as my dad I never considered but to me he will always be a little bit Fred!
In fact I was to learn my father was absolutely his own person. He was a born storyteller and I loved hearing his stories. Born in South London he told me tales of his boyhood during the Second World War. My grandpa had been a brave soldier who still had a bullet lodged in his head and my father had once been smuggled in to my grandfather’s billet. After the war my grandfather had worked on the railways and had been given a watch for his years of service that my father wore. My father had been evacuated with his two sisters, Joyce and Sheila and his mother but my Grandma had not liked their hosts so they had returned to face the Blitz in London where they sometimes slept in the tube stations to escape the bombs. My father had once been a look-out for someone selling illegal goods on the street. He had boxed in the same stable as Dennis Waterman. He was called ‘Snowy’ as his hair was so blond. He used to sleep walk as a child and nearly stepped out of a first floor window. He was once attacked by a swan in a park. He used to swim in the Serpentine with his friends – unthinkable now. So many stories etched in to my memory…
As a young man I think my father would agree that the RAF was a catalyst for him. He did his National Service – including a stint in Germany – and then stayed in for longer. He learnt a trade – photography – that would launch him in to an interesting and glamorous career after he left the force. He made two great friends – Peter and Trevor – who have remained his best friends for fifty years. He was in the RAF when he met my mother – at a dance at Wimbledon Town Hall. Afterwards he took my mother and her friend home to Ham on the bus and then had to walk home to Wandsworth as he did not have enough money for the bus fare home. Later, instead of an engagement ring they bought a Vespa so my father could scoot home from RAF Cottesmore to Ham and see his ‘Peggles’. They courted in the dancehalls - dancing, always dancing…
I loved hearing about my father’s Fleet Street days – working in Manchester Square; for Smee; going to a press conference at the Savoy to see Charlie Chaplin; seeing Churchill; photographing exhibits for the Victoria and Albert Museum. Reflecting now I think I became a picture editor and art historian largely because of him. He quietly taught me to really look at pictures and to love them. Our house was always full of boxes of photographs that I loved to look at. I loved the stories behind our family pictures and the surety they gave my life. I have started taking photographs myself now and this is a great joy for me. I love capturing and recording happy family moments just as he has. He was also a natural researcher. He constantly found new subjects to research – segments he had heard on the radio, people he had met, articles he had read would constantly spawn new interests. He fell in love with new subjects – one of the signs of a gifted researcher in my eyes.
My parents taught me to love cities, especially London. Even though they left London when we were little we returned nearly every weekend and there was always a sense in my mind that it was ‘better’ than the small town we had moved to. Driving to London – Ian and Dad off to Stamford Bridge to watch the football and my mother, sister and me off to shop and have haircuts – there was a wonderful moment when we drove along the Finchley Road and we were there. We did exciting things in London – we saw shows – musicals mostly – this was the era of Andrew Lloyd Webber. I remember one very special year when my father took me on my own to see ‘Wind in the Willows’ at Christmas time. I wore my best dress. He was always very fond of Mr. Toad and his catchphrase ‘Poop, Poop!’ On other visits we walked the streets and soaked up the atmosphere. We ate great pizza in the Pizza Express on Fulham Road before the game. We wandered along the Kings Road and saw punks. We saw exhibitions – my first memory of an art gallery was going to the Tate and being allowed to choose a print to have framed for my bedroom – I chose one by Paul Klee. These visits gave me a love for London and ensured that the moment I left home I headed there and stayed there until I moved to New York. It is still my favourite city on earth and part of this is the bond I feel it gives me to my Dad. He loved the countryside too – I have beautiful memories of holidays in the Lake District – but when I come home now I feel that it is London that is in my blood.
My first views of Manhattan were shaped when I was a teenager by watching Woody Allen movies with my father. Movies are a common theme in my memories of my childhood – we watched a lot of movies together. Long before he visited the city my father loved New York – jazz clubs, the food, Jewish humour, stories told to him by his American friend, Augie. (I loved to hear about Augie and how all he had in his ‘fridge was pints of cold milk and chocolate cake – a story that now fascinates four year old Mariella). I am glad I moved here – it was such fun to share the city with him and my mother when they first came to visit us. On their visits they walked the city. No cabs or buses or subways for them – they pounded the streets to make them their own. 72nd and 2nd down to Times Square and back – no problem! Another note on Woody Allen – I remember a car journey with my father and us listening to one of Allen’s stand-up routines on the radio. It was a sketch called ‘Moose’ and we laughed and laughed and laughed. Listening to it today I can hear my father laughing beside me. My father was the person I wanted to tell when I saw Woody Allen walking across Park Avenue a couple of months ago. It was a ‘New York moment’ for me and I wanted to share it with him.
My overriding memory of my father will always be LAUGHTER – what a lovely one to have! His chuckling and his explosive laughs that would make him shake and cough. We once lived in a house where my bedroom was above the kitchen. My happiest memories of that house are of waking up and lying in bed and listening to my parents chatting and laughing with each other downstairs.
My father’s capacity for friendship was like no-one else’s I know. He loved to make new friends and new connections. Tennis was a huge part of his life and he made great friends with his opponents, partners and his pupils. The word most applied to my Dad is ‘generous’ and I think this goes for everything – his time, his money, his heart! One of my favourite songs is called ‘Everybody Eats When They Come to My House’ by Cab Calloway. It reminds me of my parents - cooking together for family and friends was one of their biggest pleasures.
I am so fortunate – I have always felt that my parents are my biggest fans. They were truly interested in their children and managed to create and value three people with very different personalities and with totally different interests – science, art, sport – these all got equal attention and praise in our house. We have all been shaped and inspired perhaps more than we know - a sportsman and – as it turns out – a great salesman – can’t think where Ian got that from!
When Dad and Ian went to Canada for six weeks - hiking in the Rockies - I missed them terribly. I remember very clearly waving their coach off and crying. Dad loyally wrote to me and sent a string of postcards of bears – addressed to me to make me feel special. I remember the excitement of waiting for the coach to arrive back in the car park and seeing him climb off.
He has turned out to be a wonderful Grandpa too – ‘Gumpa’ as Venetia called him today. He has caught Mariella’s imagination with tales of birds and hedgehogs in their garden. After each tennis lesson this summer Mariella would ask one question, “Will Grandpa be proud of me?” She was delighted when when he gave her a trophy to show her just how proud! My favourite photograph of them? One taken on his 70th birthday in Norfolk where we had all gathered to celebrate his big day – he picked her up and danced with her in his arms.
My childhood was a very special one and set the foundation for a happy life for me. My parents’ relationship was an inspiration to me – I remember often walking in to a room as a child and finding them kissing. I know I am lucky to have the memories I have and to know that my family love me – and to see my own girls being loved in turn. I was a Daddy’s girl – still am!
When I was younger I always thought that my grandad was the best in the world. When I went to grannie and grandad's house I always looked forward to my tennis lessons. Along side my dad he tought me how to play.
I will miss him very much but I will never forget him and what he tought me.
From Annabel xxx
Three of Jim's friends ran the 2008 Chicago marathon to raise money to sponsor a guide dog puppy in Jim's honour. Please see the newspaper articles on 'Bailey' by clicking on Peggy's Journal.
[Editor: So far Corrado's Firewalk has raised £670 - congratulations Corrado and thank you to his sponsors - it was an amazing effort and Dad/Jim would have been so proud of you. He would have got a lot of mileage out of telling the story in the pub!] I HAVE DONE IT! Thank you to all of you who have sponsored me to raise money for the MND Association. I have done the firewalk and I have pictures, video, several witnesses and a certificate to prove it! In fact not only I did it but I did it three times! I felt that since you gave so generously I had to give a little more of myself to the cause, hence the repeated experience, as if the first time it was not hot enough! I managed not to burn my feet too much though, you must be pleased to hear. I have walked on burning coals and that was my challange. A small one when comapared to that the people with MND and their families have to endure. The challange was not so much walking on hot coals but muster the will to do something that every fiber of my sentient self was screaming "DON'T DO IT!". I have learned that the impossible is feasible and that the saying "no pain non gain" is true. The pain was little in comparison to the gain. What I gained is a little more confidence (as if I needed it... I can hear some of you thinking, you know?) but more importantly, with your help, I raised money for the MNDA that will go towards helping people with MND and their families at the saddest of times. And so... again a big thank you for your help, support to me and to the MND Asscociation. THANK YOU! PS Just because the challange is over it does not mean that you have to stop to give: quite the contrary! The needs of the people with MND do not stop here nor does the efforts of the MND Association, therefore, keep giving, whatever you can, as that it will help more people at the time they need it the most. On my part, I will try to give you another reason to put your hand to your wallet...
For those of you who know me, you know that I am bloody minded and big headed enough to believe I can walk on water. On this occasion, however, I will be walking on fire, for a change. My father in-law Jim was diagnosed with Motor Neurone Disease (MND) in spring 2008 and he died of it in Jenuary 2009 following a rapid and devastating decline that took a fit 71 year old man who was still coaching tennis five days a week to someone who could not scratch his own nose or ask for help or say one more word to those he loved. It was painful to watch his decine and, at the same time, it was also reassuring to see his family and friends closing ranks and help and support him, and each other, in any way they could. It was heartening to see that, when something serious happens, blood truly turns out to be thicker than water and when no more can be said or done, love is all what it remains. As far as fathers-in-law go, Jim was perfect! I cannot comment on his tennis as I do not play and even if I did, I would not have wanted to run the risk to lose a game to the in-law! Not that I am competitive or anything. However, the only serve I will truly miss is Jim's serving of his great food on the table. Did I say he was a good cook? OK, OK he was an outstanding cook, really, almost as good as I am... Jim was one of those great human being for whom nothing was too much trouble and if he could help or support a friend or his family he would go the extra mile, no questions asked. He made everybody welcome in his house and in his life and he wouldn't have missed any occasion to show off his talent as a cook extraordinaire (no, I haven't spelt it wrong: it is really French). Despite the fact that Jim was obsessed with football, Chelsea, to be precise, he truly was a remarkable chap and that is why I am prepared to risk my beloved (if smelly) feet to raise money for the MND Association so that more help can be given to MND victims and their families at times where everything seems to disappear in a whirpool of pain and despair and not even the nicest memories can come to rescue. Just to put things in perspective here, consider the following before you put your hand in the wallet (or your fingers to the keyboard punching in your credit card details etc) 1. The fire bed itself is approx 20ft long and 3ft wide. 2. The coals I will be skipping on burn at 1236 °F. 3. Now: paper combusts at 451 °F, aluminium melts at 1100 °F. 4. My feet burn at a much, MUCH, lower temperature. 5. Therefore: GIVE, GIVE and GIVE until it hurts (as Mother Theresa said), just as it will hurt me, just as it hurts the families and the victims of MND Thanks for taking the time to visit my JustGiving page. Donating through JustGiving is simple, fast and totally secure. Your details are safe with JustGiving – they’ll never sell them on or send unwanted emails. Once you donate, they’ll send your money directly to the charity and make sure Gift Aid is reclaimed on every eligible donation by a UK taxpayer. So it’s the most efficient way to donate - I raise more, whilst saving time and cutting costs for the charity. So please dig deep and donate now!
Article in thumb print, MND Association magazine, Summer 2009
A Fitting Tribute: creating an online tribute fund for my father
by Suzanne Satow
I created the tribute fund website for my father the week after he died. As I looked for information on the MND Association website on forwarding monetary donations made at the funeral, I came across a page about the tribute fund websites hosted by muchloved.com. Ten minutes later I began ‘building’ our site – www.jim.bailey.muchloved.com
It is hard to express how much this helped me through this very sad time. My father died nine months after receiving his diagnosis. He faced every day with dignity, bravery and his great sense of humour. He was everything to me and to be able to preserve the lovely memories our family and friends have of him on the website gave me a feeling of strength and purpose. We had lost a very special person but we were trying to help others in the same situation and that was very cathartic. My father had begun writing his memoirs but did not manage to finish them before his death. We have published his first chapter on the website. He would have been so proud to ‘be’ a website and to see his words in print! We asked friends to write their reminiscences and include these alongside the eulogies my sister and brother gave at the funeral. My daughter and my niece ‘post’ messages for their Grandpa. We have also enjoyed looking through our family photographs choosing ones for the site.
Creating a website looked daunting at first but the templates are easy to fill in and if you can attach an image to an email you can do it! The technical team at muchloved.com was so helpful and encouraging. Each month we receive an update on the fund’s total. We have raised over £1800 – with friends as near as next-door and as far away as Israel and America able to make donations online. It has given us the impetus to plan future fundraising events to feature on the site. My brother and his wife’s are undertaking a sponsored bike ride from London to Paris and we are trying to persuade my brother-in-law to do the next MND Firewalk! Three of my father’s friends ran the Chicago Marathon; raising money to sponsor a guide dog for the blind – named ‘Bailey’ in my father's honour. We are tracking Bailey's progress on the website in ‘Peggy’s Journal’.
As we add to the website and cover current events it almost feels like it is taking on a life of its own and this is the way we wish to honour my father. He was a good man who did good things for his friends and family. We want to carry on in the same way and, in a small way, help other people affected by MND. My one regret? That my father did not see his website – he would have got a big kick out of it. Our five-year-old daughter tells me however that there are internet cafés in heaven so Grandpa will have seen it – a nice thought!
Please take a look at www.jim.bailey.muchloved.com and click on ‘Contribute’ to leave us a message.
The Barnwell Charity Ball in aid of Motor Neurone Disease was held on 4th July and raised nearly £1500 in memory of Jim Bailey. Organised and designed by Kate Whight & Deborah Walker a fantastic night was had by just over 120 people who were treated to 3 sets of live music from Winnie Clarke and enjoyed a delicious meal prepared by the Kings Arms Polebrook. The hall had been decorated professionally by Ali King and Paula Addison and made great use of the hall's new bar and kitchen.
Bailey's ready to serve as an ace guide dog
By Becky Inman, Kettering reporter
A puppy funded by a marathon charity effort has arrived in the county to start her guide dog training.
Seven-week-old black labrador puppy Bailey will embark on a two-year training programme to prepare her to be rehomed with a blind person. The £5,000 needed to put Bailey through her training came from Mark Taylor, Wayne Tideswell and Graeme Milligan from Kettering Tennis Club, who took part in the Chicago Marathon last year.
The trio, plus supporter Dan Rock, raised the money in memory of their coach, Jim Bailey, who died in January after a long battle with motor neurone disease. The four contacted Guide Dogs for the Blind to see if the organisation could name the new puppy after him.
Bailey will live with puppy walker Lin Whitwell in Barton Seagrave for the next 12 months, preparing her for the training she will need to become a working guide dog in just under two years' time.
Mrs Whitwell said: "Bailey is my fourth puppy to look after and she will be staying with me for a minimum of 12 months. My job is to take her out and get her used to people and noises and take her to restaurants, pubs and shops to get her used to them. We will also show her how to find doors so if a person is in a shop and needs to get out they can find their way out. And she will also learn how to use zebra crossings during her training. At the moment she is very well behaved for her age but can be very vocal sometimes."
The puppy training will also include trips on buses and trains as well as toilet training.
Mr Bailey's family have also set up a website to carry on his memory which can be found at http://jim.bailey.muchloved.com
We are very grateful to Becky Inman for granting us permission to reproduce this article on the website.
Dog sponsored in Jim's memory
Three tennis players took part in a marathon to leave a lasting tribute to their coach by sponsoring a guide dog puppy. County tennis captain Mark Taylor, along with coaches Wayne Tideswell and Graeme Milligan, raised £5,000 by running the Chicago marathon last year.
The three, along with supporter Dan Rock, flew over to America in October to take part in the 26.2-mile race, raising money for Guide Dogs for the Blind. But after coach Jim Bailey died in January after a long battle with motor neurone disease, the runners contacted the charity to see if a puppy could be named after him.
The trio handed the cash over to the charity this weekend at the Northampton Road tennis courts, Kettering, where Mr Bailey, who was described by friends as a tennis fanatic, spent much of his time.
Mr Tideswell, from Kettering, said the marathon turned out to more gruelling than they thought. He said: "We hadn't done anything like this and we trained for 10 months. Usually in Chicago in October it's cold, but on the day they had freak temperatures and it was about 80 to 90C. A police helicopter was flying overhead, telling us to start walking and 400 people were taken to hospital. They even started running out of water. I wanted to do it in under four hours but because we were being advised to walk, I did it in four hours and 28 minutes."
He added: "We thought £5,000 was a good target and that's how much it is to train a guide dog. It will be nice if Bailey is a local dog so that Jim's widow can keep track of it."
The money will fund the whole of Bailey's training, through to being homed with a blind person. Bob Pooley, who represents the guide dogs charity and is chairman of the tennis club, said: "The puppy has been named Bailey in memory of tennis coach and former county tennis captain, Jim Bailey, who was a cornerstone of local tennis for many years and who, sadly, died earlier this year after a long illness." Bailey will arrive for training with the Kettering and Corby branch of Guide Dogs for the Blind in the next few months to start his training, which will last three years.
Mr Bailey's legacy will also be carried on by his family, who are fundraising for motor neurone disease charities in memory of the 72-year-old, who spent his last days at Cransley Hospice. To see more about the fundraising appeal visit www.jim.bailey.muchloved.com.
We are very grateful to Becky Inman for granting us permission to reproduce this article on the website.
Bailey is ready for a dog's life 23 February 2010 By Monique Cleaver News reporter, Evening Telegraph I’M OFF – Bailey the Guide Dog prepares to leave her training home to start her working life Bailey is all packed and ready to set off on her next adventure on the road to becoming a fully-fledged Guide Dog. Alan and Linda Whitwell, who have been training Bailey for a year before she leaves to start her formal training, bid farewell to their faithful companion tomorrow. Bailey, who was sponsored in memory of former Kettering tennis coach Jim Bailey, even went round Kettering town centre yesterday, saying her goodbyes to shopkeepers who have helped in her training. Mr Whitwell, of Gotch Road, Barton Seagrave, said: "My wife will be in tears tomorrow. It's a bit like waving your children off to university – except she won't come back with a load of washing, asking to borrow some money." Bailey will spend a short time at the Guide Dog centre in Leamington Spa before going to a specialist mobility instructor. Once she has completed the final part of her training, the one-year-old will be paired with someone who needs her. Mr Whitwell said in the past 12 months they had taken Bailey on trains, buses and lifts and in restaurants and pubs and into crowds to get her used to different scenarios. He said: "They have to learn an awful lot in the first 12 months but she has been absolutely brilliant. "She's been the best one we've had so far – she's so friendly and loving. We get to go and see her once at Leamington Spa, but then we won't see her again." Bailey was sponsored after Kettering Tennis Club members Mark Taylor, Wayne Tideswell and Graeme Milligan raised £5,000 for Guide Dogs for the Blind by running the Chicago Marathon last year. When Mr Bailey died last January, they contacted the charity to see if a puppy could be named after him. Mark Cortis, secretary of Kettering Tennis Club, said: "We are very proud of the three guys who raised a fabulous sum of money for a fantastic cause. We've seen Bailey when she's been to see everyone at the club. She's ready to start her formal training and she has passed the first hurdle."
