CKC – Eulogy
Charles Kevin Cowling was born on 7th April 1936 in Fulford, York, the second child of William Robert and Nora Cowling (‘Peggy’).
Kevin had an older sister Sheila and ten years later a younger brother Tony arrived.
Kevin didn’t always enjoy looking after his kid brother. Tony had a full head of ginger, curly hair which Peggy was very proud of and would often show him off to friends and neighbours.
On one occasion, Peggy asked Kevin to take Tony for a haircut. Back in the 1950’s barbers offered a basin cut or a crew cut. Tony’s turn in the chair duly arrived so the teenage Kevin sat down and buried his head in the sports section of the newspaper.
When he returned home, Peggy was absolutely horrified to see her youngest son had been brutally shorn of his curly locks. Thinking he had done this deliberately for a cruel joke, Peggy loudly reprimanded Kevin who promptly exited the house only to be chased down the road by his feisty Irish (and very irate) mother.
Kevin excelled at academic subjects and passed the 11 Plus to obtain a place at Archbishops Holgate school. Kevin was also a keen sportsman and played for the school cricket team as a talented batsman.
Kevin’s two closest friends in Fulford were Paul Duffield and Barry Pendergrast. The latter became famous as John Barry, responsible for the ‘Born Free’ film score as well as the famous James Bond theme tune.
Tony recounts going fishing with his older brother with fishing rods strapped to their bicycles. As they returned home, tired and sunburnt without a single fish, Kevin suddenly urged his brother – ‘Cycle fast, get pedalling. Tony ! Faster !’
Kevin had caught sight of John Barry parked up in his immaculate white Rolls Royce and desperately wanted to avoid being embarrassed on his humble bicycle.
John Barry, completely unaffected by his fame and success, spotted his old school friend and yelled: ‘Kevin ! Kevin ! Over here. Come over here ! Let’s have a chat !’
Kevin was a kind, thoughtful, generous man who valued the importance of a good education. After a weekend trip to Blackpool, Tony was very excited to hear Kevin had brought him a present back. However, Tony’s heart sank when Kevin presented his ten year old brother with some 11 Plus revision guides – instead of the traditional pink stick of Blackpool rock.
Kevin performed his National Service in the Royal Air Force. This mainly seemed to consist of cutting the grass with nail scissors and then painting it green. While England didn’t have an air force ready to defend the country in the 1950’s, the airfields must have been absolutely immaculate for any incoming bombers.
Kevin left school after his ‘O’ levels, eager to enter the workforce and start earning money, Kevin joined National Provincial at the bottom of the ladder as a bank clerk.
In 1961, Kevin met his wife Pamela at a dance in York. Pamela was working as a nanny for the Terry family who owned the famous chocolate company.
After a short engagement, Kevin and Pam married in York on 20 January 1962. A son, Andrew, arrived on 20 November 1962 followed by a daughter, Deborah, on 11 April 1966 – just in time for England’s World Cup victory.
Kevin was driven, ambitious and rapidly rose up the ranks at NatWest bank. His job took him from York to Newcastle and then down South to Guildford where he commuted into London.
In 1969, Kevin and Pam moved back up North – but to the wrong side of the Pennines – settling in a leafy suburb in South Manchester.
When he moved to Ramsdale Road, Kevin became an inspector (for the bank, not Greater Manchester Police) which meant a lot of time travelling to bank branches all over England.
And now for a couple of football anecdotes from my Dad…
I inherited Dad’s love of sport, in particular following Manchester United. Dad took me to my first game at Old Trafford back in 1972 – when an ageing United team was in a steep decline.
United were subsequently relegated, then got promoted the following season and I somehow managed to persuade Dad to buy me a precious season ticket.
However, despite this, obtaining tickets to cup semi-finals and FA Cup finals was virtually impossible – unless you were a senior manager at NatWest bank.
Dad managed to secure tickets to the FA Cup semi-finals at Hillsborough in 1976 and 1977. He even managed to get two tickets for the 1977 Cup Final against fierce local rivals Liverpool. The tickets were often for the ‘wrong end’ and mysteriously labelled ‘Rotherham city branch’ on the rear.
For the 1977 final, Dad didn’t fancy driving all the way to London and the train was a little pricey so he had the brilliant idea of getting a coach from Chorlton Street bus station.
So, on 21 May 1977, we silently crept out of the house at 05:00am and drove to Chorlton Street bus station. We boarded the coach and found a pair of seats located three quarters down the aisle.
Most passengers were tired and subdued but quietly excited at the prospect of the day ahead.
At 06:00am precisely, the driver started the engine and the long awaited adventure of my first FA Cup Final was finally underway.
Simultaneously, fifteen lads from Salford seated on the back three rows, cracked open their tins of Carlsberg, started singing ‘Tommy Docherty’s Red and White Army’ and proceeded to regale us with their extensive repertoire of colourful United songs and chants. For four whole hours.
United beat Liverpool 2-1 and lifted the famous trophy but my abiding memory will always be the look on Dad’s face on that coach, which was just priceless.
In 1983, Dad secured tickets for the FA Cup Final against lowly underdogs Brighton and Hove Albion. I was now living in Surrey and Dad caught the train down (not the coach for some reason).
We took our place on the Wembley terraces in the United section well ahead of kick-off. Inevitably, 10 minutes before kick-off, a group of United supporters came and stood immediately behind us and the chanting from the late arrivals commenced.
The teams came out. Someone sang ‘Abide with me’ but was drowned out by our energetic and vociferous neighbours. The teams shook hands with royalty. The two captains tossed a coin and kick-off was finally here.
As was tradition, I turned to Dad to ask him for his prediction. Much to my surprise, he was drowning under a gigantic flag adorned with ‘MUFC – RED ARMY’ and desperately flailing his arms around trying to free himself to actually watch the match.
Later, as we parted ways at Wembley Central, he turned to me and wearily muttered ‘Andrew – I really think this is my last Cup Final’.
[ Pause – indicates Andy’s anecdotes are over ]
Many of you will have visited Larchmere and enjoyed the wonderful views of the pond. However, Kevin’s experience of pond management started many years earlier. At Ramsdale Road, any rainfall that lasted more than 10 minutes resulted in the back garden rapidly flooding to quite dangerous levels.
Kevin consulted the local council, the National Rivers authority and his local MP, all to no avail. He got Dyno-rod out on many occasions and paid for an expensive fibre optic camera trace. The ultimate conclusion was inconclusive so whenever rain started to fall, Kevin would immediately start monitoring the back lawn looking intently for more clues to the source of the problem.
This normally wouldn’t be an issue but this was Manchester where it rains 262 days a year ! The flooding issue did impact family life and tea was often hours late as Pam was constantly busy in the garage constructing a wooden ark.
Debbie was responsible for introducing dogs to the Cowling family. She nagged incessantly for 7 years to get a dog. Eventually, Dad (who had been badly bitten by a dog as a young boy) gave in and we enjoyed the company of Tara, a lovely Golden Retriever for many years.
Little did we know, this decision would launch Debbie into her own successful career, following her passion, training Guide Dogs For The Blind in the UK and later Australia.
Kevin’s experience with Tara converted him to a dog lover. This was just as well as he was then asked if he could look after Debbie’s dog – Tess – just for a couple of years as she was emigrating to Australia. And the two years somehow turned into 13 years.
When Dad retired at 58, after 40 years service at NatWest, he was very active maintaining the garden and pond at Larchmere, shoring up the banks, pulling out reeds, managing the pond overflow and trimming trees.
Kevin often had to chastise fishermen who strayed from the anglers pond looking for the perfect fishing spot, politely advising them it was private land.
On one Sunday afternoon, dozing after a substantial roast dinner, Kevin suddenly leapt out of his chair, sprinting to the patio doors faster than Usain Bolt and ran out shouting:
‘What on earth do you think you’re doing ? This is Private Property and you must have walked past several prominent signs saying so. Please leave now…’
Curious, as to who had incurred Dad’s displeasure, we all joined him on the patio – only to find the target of his irritation was a sheep who had casually wandered in from the adjacent farmer’s field.
Dad enjoyed the freedom of his retirement, going for cottage holidays in the Lakes with long standing and close friends; Susan and Raymond, the Bramhall Banking Mafia, Ron and Christine, Gerry and Mary as well as Bryan and Winnie (‘Voice of an Angel’) Aston.
He also loved planning and going for long 10 mile walks in the Peak District with former neighbour and close friend Mike Biggs (even though he was a City fan).
Kevin enjoyed the company of his grandchildren, Laura and Michael but he also liked his quiet time at the weekend and the two weren’t always compatible.
Laura, aged 5, was like a Duracell bunny on speed. A Saturday with Laura consisted of cartoons on TV from 05:45 followed by breakfast when the family emerged.
Then it was on to painting and colouring, followed by a walk to the play park to enjoy the swings and roundabouts. Back home via Richmond Park just in time for a quick board game before lunch.
After a sandwich, quiet time – just half an hour reading a book while the adults chat.
Dad finally unwrapped The Daily Telegraph, that he’d sneakily popped out for 4 hours earlier, and turned to the Sports section.
Laura promptly put her book down, jumped up onto the sofa next to her Grandad:
‘Grandad, Grandad – what time are we going swimming ? Is it time to go now ?’
‘Oh Laura. You’ll have to ask your Mum about that.’
In more recent times, Mum and Dad celebrated their Diamond 60th Wedding Anniversary in January. Quite an achievement and barely a cross word exchanged in all those years.
Kevin was a master at the declining art of formal letter writing. When Kevin was suing a local builder over shoddy workmanship and missed deadlines, the lawyer was so impressed, he started asking Kevin to proof-read his own letters and legal correspondence. So Kevin was paying a lawyer £200 per hour and doing his work for him.
As a retired bank manager, inevitably Dad’s financial records were immaculately filed in alphabetic and chronological order in four drawers of a fire-proof metal filing cabinet.
Most people check their credit card statement to check the refund on that returned item has been processed. Some people might even cast their eye over each individual transaction.
However, only a retired bank manager would take the trouble to fully reconcile the milkman’s weekly invoice to check he has not paid for 1 Litre of Semi-Skimmed milk that was never delivered.
And so to finally close, a tribute from my Dad to Kevin Cowling
‘Dad – you were a brilliant role model. Thanks for everything’.