A Tribute to the life of Jeremy Ware OBE by Julian Ware on behalf of the Nottinghamshire Law Society
We met in St Helen’s on 20 December to say farewell to my father, Jeremy Ware; and this is an abridged version of the eulogy I gave. He lived in Brant Broughton for more than 60 years and worshipped regularly in St Helen’s. He was church treasurer several times, pushed to keep the altarpiece and led the project for the restoration of nave and chancel roofs.
Jeremy Ware was born in Wales on 29 October 1932. His parents moved soon to Collingham where his father was a land agent. Holidays there allowed him to hone his selection of aircraft noises of the Second World War as well as to bike across to Brant Broughton.
His father died suddenly in Dad’s first year at Oxford University, and Daddy then came back to Newark to be articled. Qualified as a solicitor, he moved to London. He met and fell in love with my mother, then Jane Wright; they were married on St George’s Day 1960, the start of many happy years together.
Daddy came back to work at Tallents and Co and they bought the first of three houses in Brant Broughton – then called the Gables between Guildford and Meeting House lanes, behind the village hall. Three sons, Julian, Henry and Maylin were born in the 1960s. Just after the building works were over at the Gables, my father bought Lister Place from the Firth family, in his words ‘a jewel house’. We moved, and my mother coped with life in a caravan while that house was modernised.
My father worked at 3 Middlegate Newark. He was discreet, kind and wise in advising his clients. ‘90% of my work pays’, he would say, ‘10% is interesting and does not’.
He worked in Nottinghamshire but did his politics in Lincolnshire. He chaired the Conservative Association of the then the Grantham constituency, working hard during the elections.
For leisure in winter he went shooting, and for several years shared season tickets for Nottingham Forest. With spring, he gardened, growing gluts of vegetables. There were village fêtes, and drinks parties in the hall. Dogs – labradors, a footballing Jack Russell, a seriously grumpy dachshund, then generations of border terriers – and a house cat filled out the family. Summers also meant holidays. As a young family he and Mum took us to Scotland for walking and later golf. In the 1980s trips got more adventurous, driving to Tuscany, coming back with wine. Salmon fishing in Scotland became an annual fixture. My father was always calm in a crisis, never shouting.
My father while professionally quite reserved was a highly social person – telling stories, enjoying dinners and meeting people. His career brought achievements. He chaired the Nottinghamshire Law Society, his firm expanded, his political and public activities brought an OBE.
About 30 years’ ago he started to retire. He filled the gaps with more voluntary work, chairing the Cathedral Fabric committee. But as the three sons married and three daughters-in-law produced three children each, there was also more time for family – and visits across the world.
He took pleasure in supporting my mother in her year as High Sheriff. Sadly, her health was beginning to fail, and he increasingly became her carer – shopping, even doing some cooking – and chatting away to the wonderful team who look after her.
Mum and Dad moved to 62 High Street in 2017, and their possessions moved out of Lister Place very slowly over the next two years. Dad commented that it was good to live in a warm house at last. He made it a welcoming place to visit. There was time for him to catch up on old films, snooker and dancing on the TV. He wrote his memories down for this magazine.
There was also the chance to take him on holiday; he wanted to revisit family and friends and to have an occasional trip on a steam train.
We marked in St Helen’s the life of a remarkable and modest man, thoughtful and kind, a life full of achievements and stories; a much-loved husband, father, grandfather and great grandfather.
