Crossing the bar

It’s becoming a bit of a theme with my blog that posts should be as rare as a Loch Ness sighting or as infrequent as the passing of Hale Bopp but alas, here I am again, albeit with no hollow promises to pay more attention to this sites upkeep.

So where have I been? Well, things have been a bit grim, not only did I safely return from Chernobyl (that’s a sort of grim that can be classed as “a good time”) but I’ve also settled in to a two-day-two-night-four-days-off work pattern (mental). When I thought everything was grand, I was completely shot down by something I sort of expected but didn’t expect so soon – the passing of my grandfather. You’ll have to excuse me if the next part is too in detail, it’s sort cathartic for me to write it as I’m not very good with speaking my feelings.

On Friday 3rd of June, 09:45, at the untimely age of 71, my grandad George James Bunkin passed away – comforted by the fact that nearly all of his family were around him. Having spent years in the Royal Navy as a CPO, exposure to asbestos and a case of emphysema had finally taken its toll on him and he reached a point where he could not breathe without the support of a machine.

The Sunday night prior, with his lungs beginning to fail, pressure began to mount on his already-dodgy heart and his renal system began to fail. It was only at this point that he accepted that he needed to go to hospital. Despite the fact we’d been telling him for days he remained a fairly stubborn individual which wasn’t something I looked down on but rather admired him for – even if in this case it was a bit silly.

Monday I visited him in the hospital, as I did every day following and in my mind I was positive that this was just a blip on the timeline of life and that’d he’d soon be better, or at least not in the hospital. Everyday he told me he felt a bit better, but by Thursday he began to seem exhausted every time he spoke and by Friday morning I received the call I’d been dreading. Despite the fact he was only moments from death, when my mum told me to hold his hand he responded with “As long as he’s not gay”, which cracked me up. Testament to the fact that he was a consistently funny and caring guy. The doctors gave him some sedatives and soon he’d passed away peacefully, but whilst it looked agonizing, he would of stopped feeling the pain long before his heart finally stopped. For me, the worst thing I’ve ever witnessed is watching a loved one die slowly and I’m not sure I’ll ever get over the fact that he was laughing and joking one minute then gone forever the next.

He was a rock to me and I regret so much now, If I’d have known that the Friday before would have been my last day with him walking about and doing the things families do, I’d have treated it so differently, but alas this is one of things I can’t dwell on. For me, he was as good as a father figure as I’d ever have – my father and mother split at a young age and I’ve never really regained any ties there – and I owe him everything. I’ve so many memories of being a child and him taking me for days out on the back of his motorcycle, so many memories of us going for breakfast or tea somewhere (even just recently), silly things really that mean so much more to me now he’s gone.

For those that knew him, he spent many years after leaving the navy running Ridewell, where he taught countless amounts of people how to ride a motorcycle including many friends of mine. I distinctly remember one Christmas when I was very young that someone had bought their son a moped and he did their CBT for them on Christmas day, not for any money – not even because he needed the money – just because he was that sort of bloke.

As chairman of the Royal Navy Motorcycle Club, he arranged numerous rides for Children in Need where they must have raised hundreds of thousands of pounds over the year and some how he also managed to blag a TV spot on BBC most years. They also arranged easter egg runs for Southamptons Children’s ward  - I always remember his car being filled with easter eggs to give to  all the kids every year. Judging by how many of the RNMCC’s members came to see him, he was a much loved and hopefully very missed character – I’m sure the new chairman will see fit that he is well remembered.

The guy worked hard nearly every day of his life and only enjoyed (I use that term loosely as years of riding a bike, ironically, ruined his legs a bit) a few years of retirement before an awful disease took him away. I’m so grateful for the time I spent with him and the things I’ve learnt from him, I wish everyone had such great ties with their grandparents like I do. I literally could go on for days about the little things that stick in my memory, but perhaps many are best kept to myself.

His funeral is on June 23rd leaving from HMS Sultan and going to Portchester Crematorium at 15:30. He specifically asked that no one wears black, unless it’s bike gear! Family flowers only and because of his touch with cancer a few years ago, he’d prefer that donations were made to a cancer charity, which I believe is something being arranged by the RNMCC.

If you’ve come across this page because you know him and you’d like more information, please don’t hesitate to contact me.

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