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Robert Stephen Crossley Fletcher F/Mc Married Married Married Married: 1931 Hilda Marion Wilson Fc | |||||
| Robert (Robin) Morley Fletcher [CFT #8935] Born: 1935-Dec-22 Died: 2015 |
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| b The Greave, Luddenden, Yorkshire d Rashwood Nursing Home, Droitwich, Worcestershire Robert (Robin) Morley Fletcher was baptised on 01 02 1936 at Luddenden Parish Church, Luddenden, Yorkshire. ADDRESS GIVEN BY THE REVD CANON DAVID HUTT at ALL SAINTS MARGARET STREET for the REQUIEM MASS for ROBIN FLETCHER, 28 January 2016 I am indebted to the Vicar, Fr Alan, for this opportunity to pay a brief tribute to one who was quietly but significantly supportive of my ministry here at All Saints between 1986 and 1995. My gratitude also, in no small measure, to Robin’s brother, David, as – without the benefit of his carefully researched memoire – I would struggle to put together a credible narrative of a remarkable life. Robin was born on the 22 December 1935 in the West Riding of Yorkshire. David describes: “A large and cold stone-built house high on the Pennines above Halifax.” His Father was involved in the carpet factory founded by the Crossley’s on his mother’s side of the family. Robin was evacuated with his preparatory school to Dartmoor and went on to Marlborough College. There followed National Service and a Commission in the Green Howards, a distinguished County Regiment recruiting in the West Riding of Yorkshire. There followed three years at Magdalen College, Cambridge, where he read History. It happened that the Master of Magdalen was Robin’s Uncle, Henry Willink, who, it is alleged, rather relished the apparent nepotism which resulted in several relations enjoying the life of the College and the wider world of the University. On leaving Cambridge, he joined the firm of Brown, Fleming and Murray as an articled clerk and qualified as a chartered accountant in 1963. He was involved variously with the Times, the Financial Times, Capital Radio and the Evening Standard. In 1976 he became a member of Lloyds and worked with several underwriters until his retirement from full-time employment in 1985. Robin now had time to indulge his twin passions – genealogy and travel. It was for him a labour of love to research obscure records in the form of parish registers and census returns. His brother notes the existence of a meticulous filing system and address books containing hundreds of entries including, on occasion, the name of the household dog! An almost obsessive traveller, Robin preserved small packets of local currency all indicative of the extraordinary number of countries visited over the years. India was a familiar destination and, inevitably, he discovered the existence of distant kinsmen residing in the sub-continent. He was an assiduous note-taker. I recall him producing a small pocket-book and pencil while quizzing – in the most affable way – a new-found acquaintance. He was insistent that everyone had a responsibility, a duty even, to retrieve and record the memories of an older generation so that first-hand accounts should not be lost. Not surprisingly Robin was a member of the Society of Genealogists and served on the executive committee. An anecdote tells of a time, during the premiership of John Major, when Norma Major invited Robin to assist her genealogical researches into the history of Chequers, subsequently published in book form. An animated conversation ensued in her sitting room at No. 10 Downing Street while the Prime Minister ate a lunchtime sandwich alone in the kitchen next door. But Robin wasn’t grand … while always generous to friends and family he was naturally frugal, preferring second and third class on Indian railways and patronising the unassuming market stalls of the Far East when in need of a snack. In the course of one such adventure, a hostess of considerable distinction was dismayed to discover that his sole luggage consisted of a John Lewis plastic bag … Robin’s qualifications meant that he was in great demand as a treasurer and auditor by various charitable institutions. This involvement included the Christian International Peace Service, Cable Line Street Youth Club, the Greenhouse Boys’ Club, the Leonard Cheshire Foundation (he knew the founder personally), the College of Arms Trust, the Church of St Stephen Wallbrook, The Samaritans – he knew and respected Chad Varah and once served as a Counsellor - and All Saints, here in Margaret Street, where he administered the All Saints Foundation dedicated to the maintenance of the fabric. He took great interest in local history and his researches included the West Riding of Yorkshire and Pimlico, where, doubtless, he carried the appropriate passport and a small packet of the local currency … Robin’s recreations included fishing and shooting – his aptitude, would claim was for the former but I’m sure I’m not alone in having cause for gratitude due to his prowess in the field. I recall a telephone call at home in the little cloister late one Saturday evening. A somewhat bemused Abbey Yard Beadle reported that: “A gentleman had come and gone and left a couple of birds …” In some trepidation I approached the Beadle box at the entrance to Dean’s Yard and discovered a brace of pheasants ‘in the feather’ awaiting my arrival. Hospitality featured largely in his rich and varied life. There were splendid dinners in his flat in Warwick Way. After a particularly convivial evening I remember the daunting prospect of negotiating the flight of vertiginous steps that led from the front door on the first floor to the pavement below A move to the big house in Lupus Street occasioned a number of parties. They were comprised, in the main, of two categories. The first was family members and there were always family members in abundance. The second was made up of what may be termed “Friends of Dorothy” although, surprisingly, Dorothy never made an appearance …” The downsizing and the move to Elizabeth Court in SW10 was not a success. Those, like Fr Alan and myself, who visited Robin in this form of semi-sheltered accommodation were dismayed at the signs of decline. The flat was not ordered, pictures remained unhung, furniture haphazardly disposed. There was an overall sense that Robin, the fastidious Robin, was not fully in command of the situation. It was a sad declension in personal well-being and his friends shared their concern. A decision was taken by the family that he would be cared for at Rashwood House in Worcestershire. A friend notes: “In his final years a succession of disabling illnesses exacted their sad toll. Though uncomplaining and well cared-for, his decline was protracted, causing distress to those who loved him.” It is a great tribute to his memory that so many who knew and loved him are present here today. I’ve been asking myself how it was that Robin found his spiritual home here – for assuredly he did. One of his first acts of kindness was to drive me to the crematorium at Mortlake. An old friend of his and a ‘regular’ at All Saints had died. Kenneth Christie had been a buyer for John Lewis before his retirement. Clearly deeply moved, Robin silently negotiated the route with tears coursing down his cheeks. It was profound evidence, if ever it was needed, of his humanity and his compassion. I suspect that it was friends like Kenneth who first drew him to this Church – where – like so many others I can recall he was able to express his faith quietly and unobtrusively. It is, of course, a place of excellence as the founders in the nineteenth century intended. But for all the glorious architectural achievement, the music and the elaborate and carefully choreographed ceremonial it is a place of meeting for all sorts and conditions of men and women. I discovered it to be a place of personal threshold, a safe-haven for those who, for whatever reason, wished to maintain anonymity. But the sense of welcome is implicit. There is nothing conditional or transactional about it. Here the casual visitor or the regular worshipper will find a precious clue to the great mystery of the Incarnation ‘God with us”. I believe that Robin’s faith was sustained and deepened through this insight during the years of his association. A spare figure; a craggy face made for stage or screen – forever breaking into a beaming smile and a great shout of laughter. He would not have been out of place at a social gathering in Downton Abbey where, doubtless, he would have discovered a distant kinsman and noted the find in his detailed archive. Self-effacing, attentive to the needs of others, a host of unusual discrimination who took much time and trouble to put-together like-minded people at the lunch or dinner table. Quietly given to good works he was as generous to those who had fallen on hard times or lacked a roof over their heads … Others will have their memories of Robin and will, in their own way, contribute to the many faceted and kaleidoscopic image of a unique life. We give thanks for that life – fully lived and for a world the better for his living. May he rest in peace and rise in glory. Amen. |
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