Simon died on 9th May 2020 but Covid restrictions dictated that his Memorial was postponed until September the following year. It took place at the medieval church of
St Aldheim and St Eadburgha in Broadway, Somerset, where Simon worshipped every Sunday in the last few years of his life.
Somewhat to everyone's surprise, his faith became very important to Simon and the local vicar Reverend Philip Denison became a firm friend and a great support when Simon became ill. Sadly, although Phil had officiated at the cremation, he was away for Simon's Memorial but the Reverend Tim Gibson was a splendid stand in, with his brother playing the organ.
We had no idea how many people would come to the Memorial on that sunny Saturday morning but, as the bells rang out, people flocked in until the little church was completely full. Several friends from college days made the journey as well as three of Simon and his sister Sarah's first cousins, alongside a throng of local friends from Simon's many years in Somerset.
Hymns were sung lustily, there were Tributes from
Sarah,
Ross and
Alex and Bob Young read Simon's favourite poem, If by Rudyard Kipling. The Entry music was
On Days Like These by Matt Monro and people walked out to
Against the Wind by Bob Seger & The Silver Bullet Band, which Simon had once told Sarah he wanted played at his funeral - actually some time before he became ill.
Of course, it was a sad and poignant occasion but the packed church was also a testament to Simon's gift for friendship and his infectious relish for life. He would have loved the Service and the jolly gathering in the garden of The Old Manse afterwards.
Sarah's tribute
Hello everyone and thank you so much for coming today for this long postponed celebration of my brother's life.
Simon was 17 months younger than me - so I knew him since he was born, chubby cheeked with dark ringlets of hair and eyes like shiny coffee beans - and I actually owe my nickname Sass, which Al and Ross still call me, to Simon.
When he was learning to speak his Rs were a bit of a challenge. One day our mother saw the small square figure trotting up the garden after me and heard him saying anxiously - or possibly a bit crossly - 'Sassah, Sassah, where have you went?'
Our baby and toddler days were spent in Goring on Thames and all Simon and I remembered about the house when we talked about it later was being stuck behind a barred gate on the landing so we didn't fall down the stairs.
When Simon was about 4, we moved to Caversham, near Reading, to a large cottage with a big garden. It was the early 50s and post war life was pretty frugal. Our father was in the Foreign Office, in what was called the 3rd Intelligence Service (ie not M15 or 6), and we had a stream of visitors with thick accents. One was called Jo Liniewski and to Simon's and my great delight, he brought two huge slabs of chocolate - an unheard of treat then. Our eyes must have been like saucers.
It was during those years that our first cousins on our father's side, Michael and Roslyn Balster, who were roughly the same age, often came to stay with us in the holidays. It's lovely that they are both here today with another first cousin Jill Marsden.
Michael still remembers Simon and he shinning up the huge yew tree in the garden - no bones broken so they must have been pretty agile - and also Simon's much loved flock of errant bantams, who kept getting out. The two boys would chase the small feathered charmers back to their run - not helped by our big golden Labrador Shandy who thought it was much more fun to see them clucking, flapping and running in the wrong direction.
Recapturing Simon's wandering bestiary became a bit of a theme. I remember him keeping white mice in his bedroom, which also made fairly regular bids for freedom - they were tiny and fast, and often disappeared under the skirting, never to be found again. I also remember it was a small bedroom and the original tribe bred exponentially so the pong - well, I leave it to your imagination...
Simon's financial acumen became evident quite young, Michael remembers. He was taking golf lessons at the local club but had also spotted the potential for earning money by caddying - wheeling or carrying the club members' trolleys round the course. Simon had sussed out exactly who was worth cultivating: 'don't bother with him,'he'd tell Michael, 'he won't give you anything. See him over there? He's a big tipper'.
Aged 12, Simon went to Westminster School as a boarder at Grant's House, as both our uncle and great uncle on our mother's side had done before. Academically, he did reasonably well but the great excitement for him - which many of you will recognise as a trailblazer for the rest of his life - was discovering that he could place bets on horses, probably dogs and anything else as well - via the cheese & pickle buttie seller in Parliament Square, who was well used to accommodating the Westminster boys.
After one win, I remember him giving me £2 - a huge amount then - to go and buy something pretty to wear. I found a pair of aquamarine bellbottom jeans in a sale for just that sum, and they were my joy and delight. He was complimentary about them and in fact, right up to the end of his life, Simon would notice and comment on what people - well mostly women - were wearing. And as many people have mentioned, he really was a bit of a dandy.
Scotland was always hugely important in Simon's life. We used to go to a friend's farm in the Borders every year and he never stopped talking about 'farming in Scotland' as his future and spent his holidays working on farms. However, he did take to some aspects of London life. He and his schoolfriend Dave Lascelles used to go off to clubs to listen to musicians. 'There was this guy in Brixton with lots of hair playing guitar - we thought he was quite good,' he told me. They discovered later that it was Jimi Hendrix.
Simon was pushed by our father to go to an interview at Christ Church, his old college at Cambridge, with the intention of studying law. When he was asked by a probably rather perplexed don why he wanted a legal career, he said simply that he didn't. After a few false starts he studied chartered surveying at Oxford Poly and came out near the top of the country in his finals. It was there that he met Johnny Shirley, who became a friend for the rest of his life and is here today.
And the rest many of you know. Simon was a larger than life character who truly lived life on his own terms. He had great charm and would talk to anyone and everyone with no regard for status and he had a huge capacity for friendship. He could make me laugh more than anyone else - partly because he really had no filters. And he always told me that his proudest achievement was being father to Alex and Ross, my much loved niece and nephew, who you will hear from shortly.
Ross's tribute
'A man is a success if he gets up in the morning and goes to bed at night, whilst in between does what he wants to do.'
Playing cricket in the Broadway & Horton Vice Presidents' Team against the local Hunt two years ago, the Club Captain was asked the surname of the batsman to which he replied 'L‑E‑G‑E‑N‑D'. I'm sure he was talking about Dad. The word has come up in many peoples' comments.
It's amazing how things stay with you. Waking up early in Cornwall and being thrown into the Camel Estuary to water ski was cold and not fun. But the reward was a hot chocolate and croissant. Growing up with Dad always involved a drive to learn, endeavour and try new things. Years later when I started running marathons, I learnt his mantra that tactics were imperative as he told me to 'lengthen my stride' and not to finish 'hard held'.
Dad came up with some innovative ways to solve problems. When he won on Wet Bob at Leicester Races there was nowhere to store his gains so he stuffed the cash down my romper suit. After we got back home, he lifted me up and turned me upside down, shaking the loot down on the floor.
Scotland was a big part of his life, travelling to the Borders from a young age. Trips to Peebles, Innerleithen and Edinburgh became folklore and as I grew up we shared many, involving food, drink, golf, fishing and racing and forging enduring relationships with landlords, hotel owners, chefs, locals in the pub. The Military Tattoo was an annual highlight and a trip to St Mary's Loch.
His ability to talk to anyone showed at the Chicken Shed bar at Kelso Races when amidst lagers with gin chasers he compared fractures and sprains with a stable lass who'd been on an outsider in the last race. She laughed enormously.
One October afternoon at Taunton Races, a place he loved, my chef pals and I were losing heavily until Dad held court between races 4 and 5. He called a horse in the last, which had no form to speak of, saying 'Understand the rules, chaps - this horse will win!' We took heed and put our last pennies on and it came in first, practically doing cartwheels. A raucous night in the pub followed.
Most of the year was spent deciding who would stay three miles and two furlongs up the Cheltenham Hill on the second Friday in March. After 55 years of watching, luck would have it that wonderful friends would own a dual Cup winner and he would meet them and the champion trainer. It was a real 'we were there' moment.
An invitation last year to the Royal Box at Cheltenham tickled him pink. Unable to make it himself, he gave me no option that I would go. It proved a very important and beautiful day for me as I met Emma, now my wife.
He probably smiled down last month when I was getting on my suit for our wedding and watching a horse he loved, called Stradivarus, running at York. It came up the straight, got headed, fought back, got headed, fought back and got headed again. Then got up on the line. He always liked a horse with courage, saying that's what made a true champion.
His generosity and hospitality were gargantuan and he was a fantastic giggler! His love of life and people was incredible. One cider festival we had 70 people at The Old Manse. We stood at the end of the garden watching them, Gatsby‑esque. Standing back to look at your friends enjoy your party was a privilege, he told me: 'good friends, food and drink - I think we've cracked it.'.
At one point near the end of his life, he mentioned a memorial service 'perhaps, in the future - if you think anyone would come'.
He really was a great man and my best friend.
Alex's tribute
Thanks Ross and firstly to say how lovely it is to see everyone in person here today. And while it is sad in one way that we are here to celebrate Dad without him, it is also very comforting for Ross, Sass and I to be with you all.
And that is probably a fitting start to sharing a few of my memories of Dad. As we can all see and feel today, he was a great friend to many and had a wonderful ability to connect with anyone. Throughout his travels to various racecourses, pubs and stable-yards, there was never a problem in starting a conversation or him having a view ... and sometimes he might let the other person share theirs too.
Reflecting on several special memories of Dad - he was a great supporter of Ross and I in our various sporting endeavours, having decided after marathon running and point to point riding that there was more fun to be had from watching. Which was a massive relief after various regimes of diet coke and celery ] meant the mood in the Stacey household was more starved than sated.
Anyway, we moved on from Dad's midlife eating fad and it is fair to say Ross was and continues to be more gifted than me on the tennis court and golf course (possibly owing to spending more time on them both). Thinking about my own sporting career, Dad was an ever-constant presence on the touchline or side of a court. I am aware this may be because it combined two of Dad's great pre match or game passions of a good lunch and spending time with his friends, most often with Simon Gardiner while I was growing up. Aimee Gardiner and I were never in doubt about whether they would be attending a particular match - it was a given.
Dad's support was constant throughout my growing up as he took on the various roller-coasters that having a slightly strong-willed and committed daughter involved. He was super proud when a particular recognition for me at school had the added benefit of him being able to play golf as part of the 4 Simons, which included my Headmaster. I soon came to realise that the less I knew about Dad playing golf as part of this quartet the better.
Another favourite memory was Dad taking me up to a university open day at Royal Holloway (University of London rather than the prison). I think Dad was more thrilled with the college and lecturers than I was. I couldn't decide how much of this was down to his admiration for where I was going to university or the prospect of me flying the nest. Either way, the important thing about Dad was his well-timed nudges or supporting comments, often voiced propping up the back bar of the 'Dog and Duck' - his generic name for pubs.
The succession of chickens, as Sass touched on from Dad's earlier days, were another special part of Dad's 'crew' in recent years at The Old Manse. Agatha, Suarez (named for this tendency to bite) and Rocky etc were a running theme and provided more stories and adventures than seemed entirely likely. Then there was TC, the stray black cat... I asked Dad what TC stood for, thinking it would be something to do with a racehorse or pet names from Thomas Hardy. When he replied 'The Cat', I laughed out loud.
I know that we will all have lots of times to look back on with Dad and I wanted to share with you all a message he wrote me a little while back, because I think he would want us all to keep these words with us.
On the front of the card were the words:
'Dream big like really big'
Alex Darling...once again an opportunity to tell you what a joy you have been to watch grow up and achieve so much.
We must always look forward (hence the card) and I take great pleasure in remembering all the super things you and I have done over the years.
As you know, I am sure, the sun rises and sets for me with you and your brother, and I wish you everything you would wish for yourself today and in the future.
With much love as always.
Those messages of looking to the future and being hopeful should stay with us all and act as a great reminder of what is to come.
