Wilfred Albert Davies ‘Wilf’

“You are no more than a thought away.”

Wilf was born on 31st January 1938.

He was the beloved husband of the late Barbara, also dad of Robert and partner Rachel and a special grandad of Robbie.

Good morning Ladies and Gentlemen, a warm welcome to our
ceremony to celebrate the life of Wilfred Davies, fondly known
as WIlf. Today, we remember a man who was loved and
respected by many and in such difficult circumstances, we are
sadly restricted to fewer mourners in the chapel. Under normal
circumstances, WIlf’s ceremony would have been so well
attended; there were many more people who would have liked
to pay their last respects. Rob and Rachel had the awful task
of trying to decide who should be present whilst safeguarding
people as well.

An unenviable task as they know that Barbara’s side of the
family featured in Wilf’s life as well as his loved ones on his side
of the family but one thing we have been learning in these sad
times is that there is much presence in apparent absence, Wilf

is being remembered by everyone who had the pleasure of
knowing him and I welcome those of you who are watching via
the webcast provided by Rob as a way of including everyone in
our service.

During the current situation, it is difficult to decide on a fitting
tribute to a loved one. Finding a special way for you to mourn
and yet remember someone who had a special place in your
hearts is so important. SO today, in his own inimitable way, Wilf
is continuing to give Rob grief, so very typical of him to depart
our mortal coil during a pandemic, leaving Rob with the
headache of trying to arrange a funeral service around the
restrictions. He was single minded and extremely serious and
he didn’t half get grumpy if he thought people were taking the
Micky out of him; well Wilf, it is payback time!

Death in several ways unites us all; how immense and how
deep is our debt to the past and the influence of a loved one in

our lives. How much we owe to the goodness, intelligence, and
energy of those who have created memories for us to treasure.
And this sentiment is, I believe, shared by so many people
going experiencing loss at this time.

We say a reluctant farewell but celebrate Wilf’s character by
listening to a potted history of his life. As well as being a
devoted husband to the late Barbara, he was a much-loved dad
to Rob or Robert if he was being naughty! nearly a father-in-law
to Rob’s fiancée Rach but like his dad, I think Rob needs that
final rocket behind him to name the day! WIlf was a grumpy
grandad, lovingly known as grandad grumps to the little
firecracker Robbie, dear brother to Barbara, Ken and the late
Kathy, a brother-in-law, Gruncle to many and a good friend to
many more.

It is almost impossible in the short time we have, to talk about
all aspects of someone’s life and no matter how I try, I feel I

could never do Wilf justice; you all knew him so well and have
your own experience of him enhancing your life; he has left
behind a great legacy by being living life true to himself, an
awkward bugger at times, a Werther’s original, hard outer
coating but a soft centre, he never got to say goodbye to his
darling wife and bottled his feelings, he was never one for hugs
or outbursts of love, never letting his true emotions be known
but he never got over his loss and missed her every single day.

I had the privilege of meeting Rob and Rach to talk about Wilf
and despite the sad circumstances we did have a lot to laugh
about as they shared their stories with me!

Wilf was almost eighty-three years young, the eldest of four
children born to Victor and Jane Davies. After leaving school,
he started work at Chester Barrie or Austin Reed as it was

latterly known and stayed there as the maintenance engineer,
firing up the boilers, fixing machinery, the main man and earnt
the name diesel Davies after he once put the wrong fuel into
one of the machines and never lived it down!

Wilf resisted change throughout his life, he was a stickler for
routine and liked to do things at the same time each day. He
and Ken used to follow a band called the Imperials, they went
most weekends around Staffordshire to see them and Wilf
always wanted to sit in the same seat whenever possible. He
ran almost everything by Barbara, even to the point he would
ask what time he should have a wash and whatever time she
suggested it was set-in stone, so it was completely fitting for
him to receive a clock for his fifty-year service award.

And the clock wasn’t the only prize he got from work, he hit the
jackpot when he met Barbara in the office. She did have a
dilemma though as she was seeing a bloke called Alex and had

to decide whether to finish with Alex to start seeing Wilf or stay
as she was! Wilf won!

I couldn’t quite believe it when Rob told me his mum and dad
got the house on Main Road in Shavington, and it remained
empty for twenty years because Wilf hesitated about
commitment! Finally, Barbara proposed to him and I gather he
cancelled the wedding day because the Alex were playing. He
rescheduled it to the Sunday then the game was moved to the
Friday so the wedding could have gone ahead as planned, mind
you, he did give Barbara a real treat! He took the bride to be to
the match! Rob was welcomed into the world a year later in
1983 and Main Road became their forever home.

Rob remembers his dad as the breadwinner, he provided for his
family, went to work and came back but he does recall how
passionate his dad was about football! And he also remembers
how his dad used to stand him on a beer crate right at the front

when he was just five years old then Wilf would go back in his
usual spot, several rows away to stand with his mates! I don’t
think Rob continued to stand on a crate as he got older!

Wilf was as tight as a bear’s bum, I suppose that’s a bit harsh,
he was the thrifty saver in the family, whereas Barbara would
give you her last penny, Wilf would take your last penny to save
it! Rob – will spend his last penny, completely rubbish at
saving! Wilf would always buy the best and passionately
believed, pay more but only once and he never changed
anything regardless of changing fashions or trends. If its not
broke, don’t fix it!

Apparently, Wilf would pull up in his regular space on Gresty
Road, dead on 1:50pm rather than paying for a ticket in the car
park. He would read his newspaper til it was time to go in the
ground and always left a few minutes before the end to miss the
traffic, regardless of how it was going on the pitch and he

always warned Rob “you know what time I leave, get back on
time or make your own way home!” and there were times when
they were both legging it down the road, hanging onto the door
handle as Wilf was driving off!

If Rob and Simmi wanted to go into Crewe before the match,
they would ask Wilf for a lift and he’d ask, “how much is the bus
fare”? Two quid! “Well, I’ll take you for “£1 each” and Rob
would moan, “why do you want money off us?” Well, replied
Wilf, “I will get you there quicker and you don’t have to get to
the bus stop!” But then the crafty bugger would pull up at the
lights or in traffic outside town so he could carry on without
having to turn round.

Rob and his dad always went to Shavington Club after the
game and Wilf may not have been a church goer, but he his
regular place of worship was the Shav on Friday and Saturday nights and Sunday lunchtime where he religiously sat in his
sacred chair.

Wilf knew a Jordie lad who dared to ask why Rob didn’t support
a good team like Newcastle? I gather this chap took Rob to see
them play and managed to convert him, much to Wilf’s dismay
not only because Rob swapped teams and football shirts but
because of the distance and the cost of travelling to the ground!
To be fair, Rob now agrees he should have listened to his dad,
his bank account would be in better shape if he had!

If Wilf didn’t go to the match, he had to listen to it on the radio,
sometimes in the bathroom and it was that loud, it could be
heard throughout the house. “Urgh! They played rubbish” he’d
rant and when Rob asked, “how can you say that you’re only
listening to it?” “well, I could just tell!”

I believe Wilf cycled most places come rain, shine or hailstones
collecting the Alex Red Lion Lottery money from its members.
He also loved to collect Littlewood pools back in the day when
collectors went house to house, more for the enjoyment than
the wages and he often rang people to say they hadn’t filled in
the coupon. He’d offer to fill the numbers in and believe it or
not, they sometimes won and didn’t even give him a fiver for the
lucky numbers!

When I asked about holiday’s Rob smiled as he told me, like
with everything else in life, Wilf and Barbara had set routines.
Barbara didn’t like flying so they would normally go to their
favourite places by coach although they did go to Tenerife once
with Ray, Jean, Angie, Rob and Simmi. The went to Benidorm
as well where Wilf had £10 nicked off him and he was beside
himself!

When he retired, Wilf became a gardener around Shavington.
Other than football, his other passion was pigeon racing. He
kept his prize birds in a shed in the garden and won many
accolades over the years.

He also saved commemorative coins and bank notes and I
believe he had two coins made into necklaces. He had an
impressive collection of page three calendars and I believe
Lucinda Lusardi was his all time favourite! They are probably
worth a fortune Rob, get them sold!

Wilf was gravely ill in 2015, he was on intensive care and being
palliatively nursed. Remarkably, he pulled through, he dug his
heels in – he just wasn’t prepared to go! You are all likely to
have very different pictures spring to mind when you think of
WIlf; That is the beauty of remembrance. We each get to
remember a loved one just as we’d most like to. But one thing

is certain, his character will remain in your thoughts and in your
hearts, your memories will never fade.

Wilf sadly passed away at St Catherine’s Nursing Home on 5th December 2020 aged 82 years.

His funeral will take place on Friday 18th December 2020 at Crewe Crematorium.

Donations for MIND will be gratefully received by the family in memory of Wilf.