Family
Andrew Venables
Nephew
My memories of Eric ('Uncle Eric') are of an inspirational figure from my childhood and early adulthood. It is not until I sit down to write that I realise how he, with Ellen, influenced my experience and thinking.
I remember going to the Headmaster's house at Caldy Grammar school for Danish Christmas festivities (on Christmas Eve). I remember the huge tree in the centre of the room, Danish carols and customs. He was the musical centre of Christmases both there and at my grandmother’s house on Christmas Day. There were songs and carols, party games and charades. He orchestrated the celebrations, along with other uncles and my aunt and parents. He was always interested in the nephews and nieces, kind and encouraging.
I remember overhearing his conversations, as you do as a child. He was always talking about the valuable things. I remember him talking about the Yiddish concept of a Mensch, and being old enough to be intrigued and for it to lodge in my brain, but too young to really fully understand. I realised now (and this is probably the reason this memory has surfaced), that he truly was a Mensch: 'a person of integrity and honour', 'someone to admire and emulate, someone of noble character'.
We went on holiday with him and his family to France. I think we were visiting the Loire chateaux. I was about 8. There was an incident that others will recall more accurately. We noticed someone in the street who was distressed, talking a foreign language. Eric responded of course, began talking to them and slipped away from our party. I don’t think I understood at the time, but did later. She was a Spanish woman whose husband had died suddenly in a road accident, the couple having come to France for work. She could not speak French. As well as being in grief, she was lost without the person who had died, and could not arrange the repatriation of the body or her own continued stay. She had happened to have met possibly the only person on the street that night who could translate freely and fluently between Spanish and French. Eric stayed with her, dealing with her difficulties with the French authorities, for most of the night, I think. That was the kind of man he was.
He lent me his second, but still very valuable cello, when I expressed an interest in learning the instrument in my 20s. I did not keep it up, and he was forgiving and generous, when with the thoughtlessness of youth, I did not get round to giving it back as promptly as I should have done.
I heard later about his early wish to serve in the Spanish civil war (prevented by his parents), his 'Desert Rat' and Italian war experience. To a boy, as a headmaster he seemed to have reached the top of one profession. Then he reached the top of another by becoming a University Professor. He of course learnt the cello when he could no longer play the clarinet, and played both and the piano well. I have recently learnt that he was a skilled craftsman in wood, something I had not realised before. The fact that I had not realised this highlights his modesty. What a life he has made. It was always lived with integrity and kindness.
Thank you Uncle Eric. I am one of the many people you have inspired.