Prologue
This is an account of Lord “Jo” Grimond’s funeral. I will start with a little background.
This relies on extracts from the Wikipedia page at https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jo_Grimond. Jo was a British politician, and a member of the Liberal Party, of which he was leader from 1956 to 1967, and briefly on an interim basis in 1976. He had been selected by the Liberal Party as their candidate for Orkney and Shetland, and after one false start was elected as the MP back in 1950. One major plank of his candidacy was that he promised to live in Orkney if he was elected, and he kept that promise.
He retired from politics in 1983 and was made a life peer as Baron Grimond. He died ten years later, in 1993.
Chancellorship
Jo was appointed as Chancellor of the University of Kent in 1970, following the death of the founding Chancellor, Princess Marina of Kent, from a brain tumour. He held that post for over 20 years, until 1990. He was a popular Chancellor, known to enjoy “a drink or two”, and got on well with students.
Jo was made an honorary senior member of Darwin College at Kent, and he attended several High Tables (formal dinners) in the College over the years. Once again, he was well liked.
Death and funeral
Jo died on the 24th of October 1993; at that time, I had been Master of Darwin College for just over a year. The funeral was set for Friday the 29th of October. I was of course informed of all this quite quickly.
On the morning of the 28th of October, I discovered (to my great disquiet) that the University was not sending anyone to Jo’s funeral; it was a long way away in Orkney, but I felt this was unacceptable. My Master’s Secretary (PA) called the Vice-Chancellor’s office, and they agreed to cover all the expenses if I attended, as these well exceeded what I could pay for out of my very small College budget. She then proceeded to book my flights and a hotel at Heathrow after my inevitably late return.
I had done a lot of work with colleagues at the University of Edinburgh, and one of them (whom I shall refer to as Mac) had retired to Orkney. I called him, and he was happy to meet me at the airport; he told me that he was also attending the funeral.
I went to bed early, and woke up at 3 a.m. so that I could drive to Heathrow and pick up my tickets in time for my flight at 7 a.m. This all went well, and I arrived at Aberdeen airport a little over an hour later, in time to catch my connecting flight to Kirkwall in Orkney. I was met at Kirkwall by Mac, who took me to his house to freshen up and have a coffee before being driven to the funeral at St Magnus’ Cathedral.
I then discovered that Mac was quite prominent locally. He had been a councillor, and had provided essential IT support to the community during the infamous Orkney child abuse scandal (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Orkney_child_abuse_scandal). In the cathedral, I thus found myself seated with him in the third row (the first two being for family). I was seated next to Jo’s former political agent.
Jo had married Laura Bonham-Carter, and that family was out in force (excluding Helena, who was I believe filming in the USA). The seats in front of me contained many women with a familiar family resemblance!
The service was a good one, with speeches from the likes of Clement Freud and David Steel. We then boarded double decker buses to travel to the interment at Finstown, about ten miles away. This went as well as could be expected, and I remember that it was bitterly cold with a sharp wind. We were then taken to a nearby hall for refreshments. I have never seen so much whisky in my life – trestle tables groaning under many, many glasses! I am not a whisky drinker, so I settled for tea and cake. I did speak to Lady Grimond, and she was very pleased that the University of Kent had sent someone all that way. Incidentally, there is now a Grimond Road adjacent to the cemetery in Finstown.
Eventually, I had to leave to catch my flight. We returned to Kirkwall, and Mac drove me to the airport. On the way back, I sat next to Clement Freud, but he didn’t say much!
Postscript
I had a bit of an adventure on my return. I arrived back at Heathrow around 8 p.m., and having been awake from 3 a.m. I was unwilling to drive straight back to Canterbury. I was booked into a nearby hotel, so I drove round there and settled in. I ordered food to my room and had an early night.
Next morning, I had also ordered room service breakfast. I decided to put my tray from dinner outside my room, and inadvertently locked myself out. My room was at the far end of the corridor from the lifts, on the third floor. This resulted in the spectacle of me, wearing nothing but pyjamas, in my bare feet, plodding down a seemingly endless corridor. I then squeezed into a posh lift with several smartly dressed guests and proceeded to the ground floor, where I discovered that reception was on the other side of the restaurant. I thus had to weave my way through the tables, still in my pyjamas. I eventually retraced my steps (clutching my replacement key) and had my breakfast before returning home.
A few years later, my wife stayed in the same hotel and realised the enormity of my embarrassment when she witnessed the layout at first hand.
I hope this has been interesting.