A tribute to my father first presented at his funeral.

My father taught me a soldier never looks back but there's a time for remembering and I'm sure he would forgive me.

Some of you will remember him as Bill, elderly and disabled, not able to do much for himself, keeping his sense of humour in spite of everything but I don't want to remember him like that. To some of you he was little Willie the brother you almost drowned in a pond or the young soldier who stayed behind at his father's funeral to salute the coffin. To others he was Uncle Will the uncle you didn't see much but who always made a fuss of you when he was home.

Few now remember his time in the army but I know what his papers say, a loyal dependable NCO, twenty nine years of exemplary service.

Our childhood seemed like one long round of packing cases. We always seemed to be on the move, the only constant in our lives the solid family life that mum and dad built for us. The hardest times were when Dad had to go ahead and mum had to cope without him but there was always a home ready when it was time to follow him.

We eventually settled in Ash and I have as many sad as happy memories there but however bad things got or whatever we had done there was always a refuge there, somewhere to take your troubles and get yourself sorted out. Dad's own refuge was the pub. It was where he went to get some respite from us.

Those of you who know him from the pub or the Buffs will have your own memories but I think dad was at his happiest when he was surrounded by grandchildren. To see him walking up the road with all of us in tow was to see him in his element.

Lots of memories but my dad taught me never to look back; so I'll think of him now in his smartest uniform, kit bag packed, boots polished,ready for his next posting. We can't go with him yet but when we do, we know there will be a home for us just as there always was.

Goodbye dad and thank you.

Thank you for reading. Tomorrow back to Margaret. Please read on.