Before this service today, John was returned for one last time to his beloved home of Upper Lodge, and in that place is evidence of everything that John was.
Around him was the garden he had tended to so diligently for decades, until his health no longer allowed. Sadly, he was just a few weeks short of making his annual proclamation of ‘the garden is at its zenith’, as he would do in early May. However, he did see one last cherry blossom, which he adored – a sign of another winter vanquished and the renewed promise of better days.
In later years, that garden had been one of the places where he excelled at one of his most treasured roles: that of grandpa. It was on those lawns where he delighted in watching a new generation play and where he took great pleasure in introducing the entranced kids to his garden machinery. He was even christened ‘Grandpa Tractor’, and one suspects that Imogen and Henry may recall the sight of John on his red, sit-on mower for decades to come.
Had he been able to go through the front door, he would have encountered some of the many cards Elizabeth and the children have received in the last weeks, many of which were from his colleagues in the legal profession. John wore his professional accomplishment lightly – he was a barrister and arbitrator, a head of chambers, and a KC, but he never blew his own trumpet. Nevertheless, the admiration for his work as a barrister was clearly very deep and there have been letters sent by everyone from current High Court Judges to erstwhile chambers’ clerks. Crucially though, while all have remarked on John’s ability, there were as many if not more words on his wit, warmth and generosity.
For some, such a career would have been their entire life, but John was first and foremost a family man. He always carried his parents, Harry and Violet, close to his heart, and his cousins Richard and Roger were as dear to him as brothers. These people instilled in him his work ethic and steered him towards his successful career, but John knew that the ultimate rewards of hard work were to be reaped at home. And so, he dedicated himself as a husband and a father.
For his sons, David and Jack, there will be memories of hundreds of hours with their papa in a cricket net, or on a tennis court or in a pool. He never declined an opportunity to spend time with his children, no matter how bad his dodgy knee might have been. But when it mattered, he was always there to offer them advice and comfort wherein he was constantly supportive and constructive, never critical. And he was so thrilled with their wives and couldn’t have been happier to have Jane and Ruth as daughters-in-law.
His sons teased him and he always laughed with them, but he got his own back with a decades long series of practical jokes designed to embarrass them. This might involve parading around in a pair of speedos, or pretending to fall asleep in restaurants, or getting his boys to come out on a wet February weekend to help him extricate his tractor from more and more bizarre corners of the garden. There was a mischievous side to John which will be sorely missed but also inspired some of the most treasured memories.
And there for all of this was his wife Elizabeth, to whom John was utterly devoted. Theirs was a whirlwind romance which turned into 45 years of marriage, two children and three grandchildren. It was a marriage built on trust, respect and a deep love which endured through the great trials of John’s last few years of illness. John had a saying for his boys; ‘Marrying your mother was the most irresponsible thing I ever did,’ he would say, before pausing to take in the home and family they had built together, and adding ‘but, as you see, it was rather successful.’
To take a trip into John’s study is to see all of this and more. In a crucifix and books of theology, there is evidence of his faith. In the endless calculations written by his hand, there is evidence of a meticulous follower of the markets. But most evident of all are the pictures of John’s parents, his wife, his sons, his daughters-in-law and his grandchildren.
Family came first for John. Even in his last few weeks when climbing the stairs could be regarded as a feat, he made a special effort to trek up to London to meet his newborn grandchild Atticus. In fact, he did it twice.
That demonstrable love is what John’s family will miss most but, thanks to his great efforts, that love will persevere through his memory.
Eulogy written by one of John Blackburn’s sons, Jack. Reproduced with kind permission from the family.
