My father, Arnold Fothergill, who has died aged 85, was a proud Yorkshireman and travelled the world with the British army before returning to his roots.
His 22 years of military service with the King’s Own Yorkshire Light Infantry, the Royal Green Jackets and then the newly formed Light Infantry took him all over England, to Northern Ireland, and further afield to Germany, Yemen, Malaysia and Hong Kong. Eventually he gained the rank of Warrant Officer 2nd Class, but his happiest time was as Bugle Major.
In 1972 he was appointed a military MBE. His citation was an official secret but his gallantry was further tested after the investiture when he was selected to dance with Queen Elizabeth the Queen Mother. It was not an experience Yorkshire or the army had prepared him for, and he had to be hastily taught a few dance steps before being dispatched to the dancefloor.
Arnold was born in Dewsbury, West Yorkshire, the son of Nellie (nee Goldthorpe) and Freddie Fothergill, and a younger brother to Jean and Marion. At 14 he started work at the local textile mill with his sights set on becoming a textile tuner, in charge of maintaining the looms and machinery. But all that was to change when he was called up in 1958 as one of the last intake of national service and found a second family in the King’s Own Yorkshire Light Infantry.
The end of army service brought my parents – Arnold married Sandra Longbottom on the somewhat inauspicious date of 1 April 1967 – back to Yorkshire for a number of managerial roles. Once my mother retired, they decided to sell the house, buy a flat and chase the sun in Spain. They spent many happy years there, gardening and walking the dog before returning for good, around 2012, to Yorkshire.
As well as travel, my father loved military history, current affairs and rugby league. He liked nothing better than to sit in his armchair watching a match on a Friday night before telling us how much better the game was in his day.
In civilian life, he was a loyal Guardian reader. He would come home from work, sit on the sofa with a cup of tea and read the paper, then a broadsheet, cover to cover. After dinner, my parents would tackle the “quick” crossword.
Dad’s personality could be a mixed bag. He was warm and generous but he could also be difficult at times. A diagnosis in the late 1990s of PTSD, a result of his military service, came as no surprise. His decline through dementia meant that in his last few years his personality changed. But throughout all of these struggles the real person was always there in the background.
He is survived by Sandra, and his three children – my brothers, Mark and Ashley, and me – seven grandchildren, Edward, Elise, Laurence, Evan, Freddie, Florence and Nellie, and two great-grandchildren, Leo and Frankie, and by his sister, Marion.
