I first met Bill 26 years ago at a parish renewal weekend in St Peter’s, Scarborough. Not long after that, he became a regular visitor to our house. On one of his first visits, he presented us with Our Lady’s Miraculous Medal, and Bill and I began saying the Rosary together. One Wednesday evening we prayed for Chris, my husband, a non-believer at that time, that he would receive the gift of faith, and on the following Sunday, Canon O’Byrne invited him to the Journey in Faith group. That was our first miracle.

Rain, hail or snow, Bill would arrive every evening, and reluctantly we would have to turn off the telly or stop what we were doing to say the Rosary. After a cup of tea and sometimes 40 winks, Bill would cycle home and throw his hat in to see if Mary would let him in so late. It did not matter what our circumstances were, Bill would not take no for an answer; even on the night I returned home from hospital with new twin sons, he strode over the carrycots on the front room floor and got out his beads. His intentions were always for his family, the unborn child and for the conversion of Russia. We could not believe it when the Berlin Wall came down.

Bill was the most unmaterialistic person I have ever met. Up to only three years ago, in his very late 80s, for the best part of the year, Bill would cycle along the railway track as far as Ravenscar almost every single day – sometimes, he would continue on to Madonna House. He took his time and enjoyed the nature, the country life, stopping for a chat with passers by, and enjoying a large flask of tea. He could not understand the mountain bikers charging up the track missing all the simple things that gave him so much pleasure. He would pick carrier bags full of blackberries, and with his hands scratched from the thorns and stained purple with the juice, he would bring them round to his parish friends hoping to get a home made blackberry pie the following day.

Bill occasionally got in trouble with the parish priest. In St Peter’s Church, after weekday Mass was over, Bill would go up onto the sanctuary to blow out the candles and clear the altar. One morning, a certain parish priest had begun Mass and realised he had forgotten something, so he went into the sacristy to get it. Meanwhile, Bill arrived late, thought the Mass was over, walked straight up to the sanctuary and blew out the candles, only to be met by the return of a very annoyed parish priest. Bill looked horrified, quickly hurried into the nearest bench and buried his head in his hands not daring to look up. He later justified his actions by saying, ‘Well, them that never does nowt never mekes mistakes’. A good lesson for us all to remember when we get things wrong. Bill’s life revolved around his faith, his family, his parish friends, his bike, and the choir, of which he was a long-standing member. He loved the annual Postgate Rally, and usually cycled to Egton Bridge or Ugthorpe and spent the night camping in a field alone. He loved Our Lady and was always faithful to her. He visited Lourdes once and Walsingham many times. In his latter years, he would join in the Rosary in church and when you heard the beads drop, you knew Bill had fallen asleep. Up to last year, Bill was regularly welcomed into the home of Joe and Ann Staunton, often sharing a meal and a chat with them. Sadly though, he became unable to ride his bike and more or less became confined to his flat. He literally jumped from his armchair when he was fast asleep to come to Mass whenever he had the chance. I had the privilege of spending some time with Bill on Sunday evening just before he died. When I showed him the Rosary beads, he said he could not manage to say it but asked me to. I left the hospital feeling very confident that Our Lady was right there looking after him and, thank God, he is now free from his struggle – and I would like to say to Bill, thanks for your great example of perseverance and for all your encouragement, I didn’t appreciate at the time what a great blessing you were to our lives.

A Parishioner