Roy Peacock

/BIOGRAPHY Marion Humphryson Nee Peacock

My Father was born at the Maternity home in Tunbridge Wells, the firstborn child of PC Ted Peacock and his wife Marjorie.

Most of his childhood memories were from the war years as he was only four years old in 1939. He remembered picking up pieces of shrapnel in the garden and also witnessing the planes dogfighting in the skies overhead during the months of Battle of Britain.

At some point during his childhood there were subsequent house moves with Ted's promotions - (always to Police Houses) to Ramsgate and Maidstone and two sisters Janine and Diana came along. Ted achieved the rank of Police Inspector I believe.

During his time at Merton College Oxford, studying History, he met my Mother Pamela on a blind date arranged through a college friend, and found out later that my Grandmother had actually met him before and their parents knew each other. He rowed for the 2nd Seven practising for the Thames Boat Race and loved Rugby and walking - they didn't own a car until much later but borrowed one to go on tour with the rugby team in Europe sampling the beers en route!

Once University had finished, his Majesty called him up for National Service and my parents got married on the 7th September 1957 and moved to Newport, Gwent where Mum taught infants at a local primary school while Dad served in the army as an Officer. 

After National Service they moved back to Oxford so that Dad could obtain his teacher's degree. Once this was achieved he took a position at Dover Grammar School where he taught for quite some time. Indeed during this time there were a couple more house moves and they finally had two children, Chris and myself.

We moved to Stourbridge in 1965 when Dad started as a lecturer to student teachers at Shenstone College in Bromsgrove. He loved his work and we often accompanied him on field trips to York, Bath and Ludlow. He also had an interest in the Mountain Centre, Nantmor where they taught students how to climb and trek.

He was also a very committed Christian and went to church every Sunday morning, and realised that his love of educating spilled over into his Church life and with a very good mentor sponsor and friend Alan Haywood - also buried near Dad's final resting place, decided to apply to become a lay reader. He did his thesis at Aston University and was licensed at Worcester Cathedral by the Bishop.

Childhood holidays were often interspersed with visits to the Churches and graveyards of northern France, Austria and Germany. Dad was able to converse quite well in French I recall, especially once when our car broke down in the countryside!

When the college closed during the late 1970's Dad took his final post at Stourbridge VI form college where he taught A level students. He stayed there until he retired.

During this life he wrote many articles and books including one called The Second World War published by McMillan and Ernest and Mary Stevens the continuing legacy published by The Pocklington Trust.  His research into local history was extensive and thorough and many people over the years have consulted him on various matters historical. He gave many talks and lectures. He was a member of The Black Country Society, indeed becoming president for a couple of years and of The Historical Association, Readers Association and Merton Alumni. He returned occasionally for the Gaudy dinners.

He marked A-Level papers for many years after retiring. He also loved his garden spending many hours outdoors. His lifelong love of researching never waned and was still writing historical pamphlets on the industrialists buried in St Mary's Cemetary to raise funds for the Church well into his 80's

On the Queen's 50th Jubilee in 2012 Dad was nominated to receive the Maundy Money at York Cathedral. This was an incredible honour and a fitting tribute to a wonderful man.

While I am saddened by his loss, I am very proud to have had my wonderful Father for so many years and while his last years were marred by the passing of my brother and the onset of dementia, he was still very much 'my Dad'. I always knew he was loved and respected by a wide audience and he was a really special person to so many others. Please do write about him on these pages scroll to the bottom of the profile page to do so and thank you if you make a donation to Cancer Research by clicking the link.

 

ROY PEACOCK. OBITUARY

James Morgan

Some twenty years ago, whilst sitting in the audience listening to a Roy Peacock lecture, it occurred to me how similar this situation was to a child positioned at the knee of a benevolent grandfather imparting tales of the past in a quiet almost confidential style. Audiences were totally absorbed by the information Roy delivered but there again he had spent a lifetime presenting episodes of history to audiences as diverse as rebellious A level studentsto Women’s Institute members out for a pleasant afternoon’s entertainment before sampling the obligatory tea and cakes. All were beguiled by this quiet, unassuming but knowledgeable intellectual who self-deprecatingly would introduce himself as ‘A bit of an historian’ Roy Peacock was an Oxford educated man of Kent, who after a brief foray in the army settled into the teaching profession.Whilst at Oxford he met and struck up a friendship with John Fletcher, later to become the founder of the Black Country Society. It was an unusual pairing at first sight- the bearded forthright no nonsense Black Country man and the precise quietly spoken southerner. Nevertheless, the friendship was to endure for many years and only terminated on Fletcher’s untimely death.Whether it was Fletcher’s influence that brought Peacock to this corner of the realm I do not know but it was in Stourbridge that he settled and was appointed head of history at King Edwards College an institution that had metamorphosed from the centuries old grammar school.Towards the end of his teaching career Roy began undertaking meticulous research into local history and inparticular the family dynasties of the previous three centuries that had influenced and left indelible marks on the area today. His publications included a history of James Foster the much-admired 19th century industrialist and entrepreneur, Ernest Stevens the great local philanthropist and perhaps his best work ‘The Seventeenth Century Foleys’ published by the Black Country Society. Each book was met with great acclaim.In 2009 Roy accepted the invitation to become President of the Society. His term was extended to two years as a few weeks after his appointment, Roy in his inimitable style told me he might not be around for a while as he had a pressing engagement with a surgeon.Roy proved to be a great ambassador representing the Society at a vast array of functions and carrying out his duties with great dignity.As his term of office neared its end Roy announced to the Society his intention to undertake a major work cataloguing and analysing the Fallen and their Memorials within Dudley County Borough during the First World War. Finance for the project was obtained from the National Lottery Fund and the research occupied him forseveral years - the results of his labours, together with a comprehensive photographic collection assembled by Graham Beckley is now digitally recorded on the internet.Roy Peacock joins a select group of eminent historians- Harry Palfrey, Jack Haden and Nigel Perry, whose research has delved into every nook and previously inaccessible cranny in this southern tip of the Black Country.His family have lost a much-loved husband, father and grandfather; the Black Country Society, a committed and respected former president and Stourbridge an irreplaceable historian.

 

Janine Harvey - Memories of Roy

My brother was 3 years older than me which didn’t make us an obvious playmates but we got onfairly well together most of the time – unless his friend who lived across the road was around. I canstill vividly remember sitting under a large tree in his friend’s garden crying my eyes out, becausethey had climbed up to their den and I couldn’t even reach the lowest branch.However, he always looked after me when we walked to school together. One incident Iparticularly remember is when a piece of doodle-bug fell into the road about 5 yards away. A womanran out of her house shouting at Roy not to touch it as it was very hot. Roy was quite indignant thathe knew that, although I didn’t. However even I could see that it was smoking. He did say afterwards that he would have liked to take it home to his room. Like most boys of his age he followed the progress of the war closely, having a map on the wall with stickers showing where various armies were.At some point during the war, probably early 1940s, when Roy was about 7, we went to stayin Brighton with our grandmother, when bombs were falling on Tonbridge Wells. I do not rememberas I was only 4, but I was aware that Roy wasn’t there most of the time. Later he told me that he was fascinated by the trams and trolley-buses and every day he was given his fare to ride to the seafront. He said he spent the day “mooching around”. He never mentioned other children and hecouldn’t go on the beach because it was barricaded by barbed wire.Once Roy was concentrating on something, whether reading or talking, it was difficult to distract him. One rather embarrassing occasion (for me but not apparently for him) was when we were having tea at the house of one of his friends. He must have been about 18. He was so engrossed in what he was saying that, when he was offered a piece of cake, he took the unsliced portion – about a quarter of the whole cake.Although he still referred to me as his “kid sister” he did invite me to stay in his digs for a week-end when he was at Oxford. I was applying to various universities at the time, so perhaps this was his idea of giving me a taste of college life. However, a Saturday spent with the Merton College rugby team who were joined by nurses from the John Radcliffe Hospital for the evening was not actually what I was expecting. Most enjoyable though!I knew that I had finally grown up in his eyes when he bought me back from Italy the most beautiful pale blue umbrella with a long bone handle. Not exactly useful for college life, I treasured it and it never felt a drop of rain.

 

Diana Wayne Nee Peacock

By explaining our family lives and home, I hope to express the attitudes and lifestyle that nurtured the youthful Roy to become the man.Roy was 10 years old and Janine was 7 when I was born, just at the end of the 2nd World War. I have few memories of him from my early years, although the few family photographs show a relaxed, confident and smiling young man. My own memories from the time he still lived at homeare particularly about our mother’s role in the local church activities, wherever we lived, and my father in police inspector’s uniform.Our father had set his heart at an early age to join the Coldstream Guards. After leaving school and before reaching qualifying age, he was an apprentice gardener for Preston Manor, Brighton, near his home. To become a Guard must have been a major achievement and he was proud to take on the role, especially being on duty outside Buckingham Palace. His own father had been in the Cavalry, but was injured out, just before the 1st World War. Father’s first police postings for Kent Constabulary were in Tunbridge Wells, where he met and married our mother.Mother had grown up in the Kent countryside, in the gatehouse of Ashurst Place, Fordcombe, a Stately Home where her grandparents and her own mother worked. Mother went to work in the glove department of Selfridges, Oxford Street, but she was called home to help look after herailing grandparents. She then worked at Dusts department store, Tunbridge Wells.During the 2nd World War, Tunbridge Wells was badly effected by bombing and also by the very real dangers of keeping law and order during wartime blackout. Policing was a dangerous job, but not being in the armed forces was considered a cowardly act and this view lingered on, particularly withone of father’s sisters, whose fiancé was killed in action.

As a police officer’s wife, mother was not allowed to undertake paid work. During the war, she served in the British Legion. Police officers had to move areas every few years to ensure that corruption was kept to the minimum. This meant that Roy had at least three homes in TunbridgeWells and Maidstone, then a police house in Broadstairs and finally at the Police Station House at Hythe. By then Roy’s visits were fleeting, but long enough to meet Pamela. I was transfixed by this glorious and glamourous woman and best of all, she happened to be the big sister of my friend,Susan.Returning to particular memories of Roy: He usually took paid work, during the holidays, particularly on local farms. Possibly on the farm behind our house in Broadstairs, but he was home when I was out playing in our small garden, overlooking a large arable field. I was six. We were used to aeroplane sounds from Manston Airport, used by the US Airforce, but this was close by and was different. Across the field was a speeding low flying jet. There was a loud bang and debris was thrown everywhere. The plane continued to fly and landed in the middle of St Peter’s village and exploded. I ran into the house and as soon as Roy heard about this, he was off on his bike and did not return all day. The fires and destruction in the village was significant and now thinking about it, Roy would have done his best to be part of the support. Live images can be seen, on line. He might be on the film. Afterwards someonesaid that the plane was going through the Sound Barrier. Parts of the pilot were scattered on the field. I remember the morning when the letter arrived from Merton College Oxford to offer Roy a place. In our Broadstairs home, if Nana came to stay, Roy would sleep at the neighbouring house. I was sent over with it and went to wake him up. As he realized what it was about, I managed to plant a kiss on his cheek: that was my achievement! It was typical that he belonged to Holiday Fellowship. He visited home after his first term at Oxford. Being brought up in the State School system, he had not encountered the entitlement that many Oxbridge students exhibited and had not expected to bedismissed and put down, particularly noticeable in the streets. He told us that he joined the Labour Party straight away. I have heard nothing since from him about politics! It must have been during a University vacation that he joined a group of friends in a very elderly car, to tour Europe. They stopped at the Police Station House and father took out a going away gift of a ball ofstring. I vividly remember my visits to Pamela and Roy’s homes, near Dover and Deal. Roy would be away or teaching so I would spend time with Pamela. Roy visited me in London, while I was near the end of my Teacher Training College Final Teaching Practice. He told me that he now had a post as a tutor, in a similar institution, having to supervise the students’ school placements. I asked him what training he got for that. Smiling agreeably, he said that he learnt alongside the student. I was not best pleased at that. My Practice with the top junior class, in a difficult Primary School in Peckham was nearly over and my college tutor had not turned up at all. I did get through it all and then taught in Walworth, becoming a Deputy Head at twenty seven, and then a Headteacher in Camberwell and later Redruth, Cornwall. I had only been teaching four years in 1970, when Macmillan published Roy’s book ‘The Second World War’ in the ‘Signposts to History’ series for schools. On one occasion, I was visiting Roy and Pamela and I saw a beautiful long brown wig. Roy explained that he was in the re-enactment group ‘Sealed Knot’. I assumed that he was a cavalier but he said that he was a Roundhead who might also grow their hair. He put it on and it was like looking at myself.I know that I have missed many things, but it can be seen how Roy’s heritage has played its part in his life. I recognize myself too.

He was a gentle man and a gentleman.

He was a Team player.

He showed persistence and service that will have a lasting legacy.

Service to the Church and Community

Roy was half Cornish