George Brocklesby 10.4.1946 - 30.11.2005

George died walking back from the horticultural college where he was on a course on glass house management. Now he will have peace at last under the ancient yew trees in the beautiful Churchyard at Mollington which he knew as a boy, after such a difficult life where he was so much at odds with the world. He will be spared old age, decline and disappointment.

For me, it is very sad to lose my brother with all the memories of when we were two little boys, schoolboys and then young men, with all our larks and games and plans, over so many years. George clearly had difficulties although he would never accept it. That was not the whole of it and his troubles prevented him from fulfilling his great promise; he had charm and charisma beyond any of his brothers and sisters. His promise was not betrayed, it was defeated. But it is about the effort rather than the achievement. No one knows what you have achieved until long afterwards, we don't know whether the battle is lost or won and must fight on anyway. Mostly what we call success is just a mediocre matter of paying the rent and tradesmen's bills. Victory is elsewhere. He paid his bills alright and so can be said to have lead a successful life despite the burdens he bore. No one could have carried as much as him so we can only hope any he wronged can now forgive him and remember his promise and the twinkle in his eye.

When I was 19 and he was twenty, he and I hiked to Jerusalem after working as gardeners in Canon Hill Park for a month to save up some money. It took us a month to get there, a regular Odyssey across mountains and burning plains. We walked through the gate of the Golden City among tribesmen in their jellabas and head-dresses, faces as dark and wrinkled as prunes, rifles over their shoulders, in the footsteps of Christ. When George was born, his father was a soldier in Palestine not far from Jerusalem and he got a telegram from the War Office to tell him. He was discharged a few weeks later because George's grandmother went to the police station and demanded his release from the army, and put Richard and George on the counter with a bottle of whisky. The sergeant put the whisky in his drawer and said HM regulations provided that if a soldier had four or more unruly children he should be given a discharge, and these two were twice as unruly as normal and so should qualify. He returned with a waterbottle filled from the River Jordan for George's christening. The priest refused it, saying it was unhygienic. He said if it was clean enough for Jesus it was clean enough for his son. George did get to visit the Jordan on his own as well as Lydda where St George, a roman soldier, is said to have slain the dragon.

Now, in a way he returns to Jerusalem after his long journey. I asked that the church can be filled with flowers as he was a florist, horticulturalist and a gardener. Two weeks ago, by chance, I heard a church service from South Africa on the radio. There was beautiful African singing which caught and held my attention and I listened to Archbishop Tutu read the passage from Isaiah for George's funeral. It had the triumphant return to Jerusalem and the end to pain, infirmity and despair, as well as blossom and blooms in the thirsty wilderness, gushing at last with cool clear water.

He worked for some years buying and selling flowers in Blackpool. Then back to University to study biology at the University of East Anglia. He did not manage to finish but as ever he tried and tried. His efforts were heroic. His enthusiasm for the science of life went back to childhood. At school he managed to pass biology more or less despite the school. He also asked to be put in for English literature when he was refused, and taught himself and three other boys and they all passed. His ability to teach others was one of his many talents.

He was accepted by the Royal Navy for a three-year commission ahead of dozens of young men keen for the chance. He was asked at the interview for the ranks in the Navy and he did fine up to Captain, as he was a keen reader of Hornblower but then got a little stuck which amused the board of appointment who egged him on, from rear admiral, admiral and admiral of the fleet and then in mounting desperation tried the lords of the admiralty and then the first lord of the admiralty and then inspired, he said prime minister. He no doubt thought he had had it, as he had clearly not known the answers. They then asked him if he had any relatives in the Navy. He said he didn't think so. Then, sensing this was another wrong answer he said that his ancestors were Vikings. Needless to say he was in.

His charm was very apparent as a boy and never left him. We have kind wishes and fond memories from his college and friends in Wales today. When he left his school at Belmont he had a farewell citation longer than any other boy that year, despite having no especial scholastic achievement. His charm was entirely natural, and was never self aware. He also had astonishing endurance and determination. He strove all his life, for little reward, but never looked back. He did not like to reminisce but always looked forward to what he was doing: his work, his studies, his ideas. He was fortunate to have his end looking forward to the next day.

George's coffin was carried out by his brothers and taken to St Mary's Churchyard, Mollington, Oxfordshire, where he is buried alongside his mother and father, and his brother Paul, who had died some years before him.

ISAIAH v 35 Read at George's funeral by his brother John

The wilderness and the dry land shall be glad, the desert shall rejoice and blossom. It will bloom like the rose, and rejoice with joy and singing. All the majesty of Lebanon is bestowed on it, all the grace of Carmel and of Sharon. All alike shall see the glory of the Lord, the majesty of our God.

Strengthen the crippled hand and frail limb! Encourage the timid! Take heart! Have no fear! See the Lord bring you remedy and put right your wrongs. He will keep you safe.

Then the blind shall see and the deaf shall hear. Then the lame man shall leap like the deer. The mute shall sing for joy. For the water shall gush from springs in the wilderness, streams flow in the desert. The dried up hollows shall fill with pools of clear water. Where there was burning sand, the haunt of serpents, the rush shall flourish.

A thoroughfare shall stretch across it, called the path of righteousness. The wicked shall not pass but the innocent shall never lose their way. No lion or dangerous beast shall come on to it. Free men shall walk there. Those saved by the Lord shall return singing to Zion. Everlasting joy shall be theirs at last, and sorrow and tears shall be gone.