Sorry to be the messenger of sad news
Two Old Cottonians
My brother John Stringer (Lefroy 1942-45) taken by COVID19 – Sunday 17 May 2020 we mourned his loss – his funeral was this afternoon at St Richard’s Chapel Surry & Sussex Crematorium .
John was born in Khanai Balochistan (now Pakistan) on 24 July 1929. Early years studied at Lahore Railway School. While a few years in Karachi we both studied at The Karachi Grammar School. My Mother received a letter of commendation from the Governor of Sindh expressing thanks & to be proud of her son Johnathan who he had watched fighting like a tiger in the boxing ring and sing like a divine cherub in the choir at his daughter’s wedding. John was a member of the outstanding boxing team at Bishop Cotton School Simla. After leaving school he took an apprenticeship in airconditioning in Lahore moved with family to Bihar and carried on to Calcutta starting his Air/con business – Migrated to England with his wife & three children. Years later he moved & lived in Antiga & Spain returned to the UK after the death of his second wife & resided in Caterham Surrey.
My very dear friend Arthur Jones (L 1942-49) passed away at around 2:pm this afternoon 11 June 2020 very peacefully in Waterbeach Cambridge – his daughter Julie informed me.
Sadly for me, two lights dimmed out of my life. I shall miss them both dearly am overcome with sorrow but will leave you a poem brother John from about the age of 13 or 14 would recite for me.
Peter Stringer (Lefroy1943-47)
O call my brother back to me
By Felicia Hemans
O, call my brother back to me,
I cannot play alone;
The Summer comes with flower and bee,
Where is my brother gone – ?
“The flowers run wild, the flowers we sowed,
Around our garden tree;
Or vine is drooping with its load,
O, call him back to me.”
“He would not hear thy voice, fair child,
He may not come to thee,
His face that once like Summer smiled
On earth no more thou’t see.
“A rose’s brief, bright life of joy,
Such unto him was given;
Go, thou must play alone, my boy;
Thy brother is in Heaven.”
“And has he left his birds and flowers?
And must I call in vain?
And through the long, long Summer hours,
Will he not come again?”
“And by the brook, and in the glade,
Are all our wanderings o’er?
O, while my brother with me played
Would I had loved him more!”