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Farewell to two old friends united by a love of family

GREAT ACHIEVEMENT: Brian Freemantle

I wrote about evil and hatred last week but though it might not seem so, there is more to the world than that. (Trump take note). So today's sermon, dear brethren, concentrates on love. 


This has been prompted by two old friends who died just before Christmas. One was Brian Freemantle, ex-Evening News, Express, Sketch and Mail and of whom I have written here and in an obit for The Times. A week ago we were at his funeral in St Brides's and if joyous seems an inappropriate way of describing such an event, that is exactly what it was. A celebration of a man who had achieved so much in journalism and, from 1975, as a brilliant and prolific author. But that was only a fraction of the real Freemantle; his greatest achievement was his family, all of whom were at the service and ranging in age from his widow Maureen, at 87, to great grandson Orlando, barely one month old.


The church was packed to its ancient gills, the music, as always, soared to perfection and, as his daughter Emma said in her eulogy, love was all around. Ah yes, love, this is part of Emma's tribute: 


"In 2001 Daddy wrote to [sister] Charlotte in New York: 'I do think we are a pretty unusual family. All that we do and all that we feel for each other. We don't have to think about what we do, it's just there. We're there, we are a special bunch of guys and I am very proud to be one of the gang.'


"Daddy set the foundation for us and taught us nothing was impossible. He wrote letters to all of us telling how proud he was of us all... always saying how much he loved us."


My other old pal who is no longer with us was not a hack but a long-retired army officer, Brigadier Chris Dick CBE. And while his career in the Royal Tank Regiment was distinguished, it is what he did with his retirement that stands out. He devoted himself to helping others, in particular those far down the social scale from this man, born into considerable privilege.


Chris volunteered for the night shift (not for the faint-hearted) at Centrepoint, the country's leading youth homelessness charity, and supported countless other charities, both financially and practically. This was a man who, as a war evacuee to his uncle's home in Devon, was brought up for two years by the family's cook, housekeeper and parlourmaid, and went to an assortment of prep schools before entering the leading Catholic school, Downside.


Many others with a decent bank balance, two homes and a splendid motor cruiser on the River Dart might have sat back and enjoyed life. But Chris always put others first and when he made friends he kept them for life. As well as Centrepoint, he worked tirelessly for the Downside Fisher Club which does so much for the youth of South London. 


Like Freemantle, Chris was never happier than when surrounded by his vast extended family of nieces, nephews, godchildren and dozens of others he loved and who loved him. I can think of many like them and I’m sure you can too. They are not celebrated like footballers, paid millions, airhead 'influencers' and failed politicians with fat contracts from the Daily Mail. But they are the ones who matter, who really make a difference.


Sadly, and as journalists we all know this, bad news sells. Which is why Trump will dominate the headlines for as long as this malign narcissist is around (ok, I'm not showing much love here) because he does crazy things that, despite his record, still shock: freeing 1,500 Capitol rioters, appointing seriously deranged people like Robert Kennedy Jnr as his health secretary and blaming Biden and Obama's diversity policy for last week's Washington air tragedy.


But for every Trump and Musk there are millions like Brian and Chris who really shape their world; people like those hundreds who volunteered to clean up and rebuild Southport in the summer after the riots by those with tattoos for brains. Those decent people did it not for reward but because it was important to show the other side of humanity. Love.


The last word goes to Pa, Jamie Dornan's character in Kenneth Branagh's love letter to his hometown, the Oscar-winning fillum Belfast. Pa tells his innocent young son Buddy that religion — sectarianism — is not important: "That wee girl could be a practicing Hindu, a Southern Baptist, a vegetarian anti-Christ, son. But she's fair and she's kind so she's welcome in our house any time.”


*****


I met Marianne Faithfull just the once... the evening she died for the first time.


In 1977 I was staying with my late friend Garech Browne at Woodtown Manor, his Dublin home. Inevitably, a party was in full swing. The Chieftains and other musical geniuses were there as were assorted types who had found their way from the Horseshoe Bar of the Shelbourne. Then the front door opened and in came Marianne, looking rather the worse for wear. After about five minutes nursing a glass of vodka and a fag, she crumpled to the floor.


Attempts were made to revive her but to no avail. There was no pulse, no sign of life. An ambulance was called and just as it arrived,15 minutes later, she rose from the dead looking perplexed at all the fuss.


A heroin blackout said one aficionado. Somehow she survived for another 48 years. 


Best stick to the Guinness.


*****


Angela Rayner is in grave danger of becoming a national treasure. According to Get In, the new account of Labour's return to government, she declared: "I'm not anti-monarchist but I'm anti-paedo." And to ensure nobody misunderstood, she then referred to Prince Andrew, China's useful idiot, as 'that nonce'.


You can take the girl out of Stockport but ...


ALAN FRAME


5 February 2025