Sadly, two of Geoffrey’s closest friends could not be here today, so they asked if i would read their personal tributes for them. I am glad to do so.
David Lowish wrote:
I first met Geoffrey soon after I came to St Bride’s in 2002. Our friendship was born in the pews of St Bride’s, reinforced by the ritual repetition of worship, familiar words and common prayer. That led to a trust between us which is hard to put into words. Perhaps it is a glimpse of a more wonderful and perfect reality of which Geoffrey is now a part.
Geoffrey was born in Banstead Surrey where he had a very happy childhood, with loving parents. After Whitgift school and national service in the RAF, which he enjoyed, he entered the marketing profession where he met his life partner, Alan. They were together for many years and were clearly devoted to one another. Alan’s passing was a moment of rupture, and despite his devastating loss, Geoffrey soldiered on.
Geoffrey and I used to meet regularly for quarterly dinners on a Wednesday at Franco’s on Jermyn Street. Geoffrey, always smartly dressed, would reliably arrive late. There was nothing forced about our friendship – age-wise we were nearly four decades apart but we could talk to each other about anything under the sun – family, politics, the ups and downs of a career, tabloid gossip, nothing was off limits.
On many occasions when I was faced with a particular difficulty I had mentioned to Geoffrey, he would follow up with a gentle “did you manage to get that sorted?”, or “are you getting on a bit better with so and so at work?”. He clearly had views about right and wrong, but he never moralised or lectured. A truly supportive friend.
Geoffrey came to my wedding in Berlin in 2012, accompanying David Meara who officiated. It was December and freezing cold, but Geoffrey, as always, looked dapper in his suit. We partied the night away, where Geoffrey was in his element, putting younger members of the party to shame with his endurance.
During his last months in hospital, which were testing, I witnessed how kind and courteous he was towards the medical staff looking after him, grateful for the excellent and empathetic care and attention he received.
Much has changed in the World since Geoffrey started his journey of faith here at St Bride’s over five decades ago, yet his character, steadfast loyalty, kindness, cheerfulness and profound decency had remained immutable. His life was fully lived and for those of us who mourn his passing we should be deeply grateful for the long time he was amongst us.
==========
Jonathan McEvoy wrote:
The first person I sat next to at St Bride’s was Geoffrey. It was a performance of Handel’s The Messiah.
He turned round at the end and said approvingly of the singing: “Not too shabby, heh?”
All St Bride’s regulars can laugh at how this funeral might be one of the few occasions when Geoffrey has not turned up late. It still seems impossible to believe that he won’t shuffle down the south transept a few minutes from now to take his place in the front row in the pews nearest to the altar, as was his wont. If he would forgive the lese-majeste, it seemed he didn’t think a service began before the Gloria was struck up. That is other than when he was on Guild duty serving his responsibilities with delight and diligence, a role he fulfilled with distinction for half-a-century, on time and in prime position.
Over the years, he spoke of his admiration for his father, who died when he was relatively young, and of his mother who taught him to pray each night. He followed that regimen of prayer all his life before going to sleep.
I and a few other close friends called Geoffrey, “Geoffers”, which he liked, an echo of old familiarities of his youth, and he called me “Jonny”.
Geoffrey hosted a splendid dinner at the Reform Club for a small group of friends to celebrate his 80th birthday. On his 85th and providentially last birthday he asked me out for lunch. We went to Cote in Richmond. I walked him across the Common afterwards, he supported by a stick, which I don’t think he ever used in St Bride’s for reasons of pride and defiance.
Geoffrey had zero interest in sport, but as a buddy of mine and knowing that I was a sports journalist on the Daily Mail, would pick up a copy of the Mail together with the Daily Telegraph, his alternative bible, to follow where I was in the world. He was only very slightly curious about my work, but asked: “Who are these Red Bull people you always write about?”
I said they are fizzy drinks manufacturers, and they have a very successful team in Formula One.
A few weeks later, he told me he was regularly buying Red Bull. “Drinking those cans give me a lift – I really like them,” he said. Ha, to think of “Geoffers” quaffing Red Bull almost to the end…
