On behalf of our Mum, Ellen, Katherine and me, I would like to thank everyone for their kind messages and support shown to us over the last two weeks. Dad had a long association with Lanark and while many of his generation have passed it gives us great comfort to see so many familiar faces here with us to celebrate Dad’s long life. Indeed, it is particularly fitting that the organist here today is Eric Geddes, who has been known to our family since he was born and who was the organist at St Kentigern’s Church in Lanark, where our parents were members of the congregation before the merger with Cairns Church.

Sam, our Dad, was born in Motherwell on 31 October 1936. Famed for his “Dad Jokes”, he commented throughout his life that it would have been far more appropriate to have been called “Ian”, as that way he would have forever been greeted with the salutation “Hello Ian”; as I said, he was born on 31 October – I’ll let that sink in. Another that many of you will be very familiar with was his frequent quip in response to the common mis-spelling of our surname, and that there was an “L” of a difference! I'll refrain now, as I won't do justice to the many other jokes he enjoyed telling.

Dad was the only child of James and Janet Wyllie and initially lived in North Orchard Street, Motherwell before moving to Windmillhill Street where he lived until he married Mum. Dad often recalled his younger days, a relatively carefree childhood but with the backdrop of World War II. He shared with us stories of the many pets he looked after and holidays to his grandparents’ farm near Arbroath. At school, Dad played rugby and even on occasions, cricket, but he was never much of a football fan. However, his main sporting activities were swimming and diving. He excelled in both; there’s a picture of him taken in 1946 on the back of the Order of Service with cups for both swimming and diving – just two of the many awards he won throughout his early swimming years. Indeed, at the time, Motherwell Baths, as they were then known, was home to some of the country's leading swimmers with several of them winning Olympic medals – Dad was fiercely proud of his association with these contemporaries and spoke affectionately of keeping up with the elite in training sessions. Neither Katherine nor I, inherited the gene that gave us courage to dive from the high board, but Dad spent many a weekend in his youth not only swimming in competitions across the country but also giving quite spectacular diving displays. After his competition days ended, he continued his association with Motherwell Baths becoming a life-saving instructor and examiner.

In his teenage years Dad enjoyed attending the Youth Fellowship of South Dalziel Parish Church where he would meet his future wife, our mum – more of that shortly. However, his main focus was the Boys’ Brigade (the second photo on the back of the Order of Service). Many a happy weekend was spent camping in the Borders after collecting pies from his grandfather’s bakery in Wishaw and which were heated in the engine housing of the van that took them on their travels. Dad also thoroughly enjoyed playing in the BB pipe band.

As was common at the time, there was little encouragement for Dad to stay on in education and he left school the day after he turned 15. He was offered a five-year apprenticeship by a neighbour and became a roll turner in the Lanarkshire Steel Works from 1952 to 1957. Long gone are the days of heavy industry in this and, indeed, all parts of Scotland but one can only imagine that it was a tough environment and taught one great life lessons. Dad tried to explain to us what a roll turner was, and while I didn't fully understand all the detail, I did appreciate it was a highly skilled trade and one that I noted in his apprentice graduation book, that I found last week, in which he was described as being “very good”.

In 1957, Dad turned 21 and was called-up for National Service – serving with the Cameronians (Scottish Rifles) at Winston Barracks in Lanark. He always spoke fondly of his time “in the Army” – perhaps one of only a small minority who enjoyed the then compulsory two-year stint of discipline and demands of military life. He was particularly proud of completing a 12-mile march with full kit in under two hours and in which water bottles were checked at the end to ensure that no liquid had been consumed on the route. During this time, he had been “courting” our mum, Ellen. One advantage of being deployed for National Service only 10 miles from home in Motherwell meant that it wasn’t far to travel to meet up on weekend leave.

Mum and Dad, as I alluded to, met at Youth Fellowship and became engaged on Mum’s 21st birthday in February 1959 and were married on 30 August 1962 – again at South Dalziel Parish Church, with the reception at the then Royal Oak Hotel in Lanark (again illustrated on the back of the Order of Service). Rather jet-setting for the time, they honeymooned for two weeks in Switzerland, with their time split between Lucerne and Lugano. Dad, by this time, had also joined our grandfather, Mum’s dad, Ronald Johnston, in the family furniture business in Bannatyne Street, Lanark. Following our grandfather’s death in 1971 it was a steep learning curve to ensure the continued running of the business. It was an occupation he enjoyed immensely and it is wonderful to see former work colleagues and those from the furniture trade here with us today. Dad (and Mum) retired from the business in 2006, with Dad saying to me that he had no intention of working a day beyond 70 – he retired 10 weeks earlier than his self-imposed deadline, I think.

Mum and Dad’s early married life began in a cottage, in Burn Road, Carluke. Their peaceful, carefree days however ended in November 1966 with the arrival of yours truly. We then moved to Lanark in 1967, after which Katherine arrived in January 1969. When we were both still very young, we moved to Albany Drive where Katherine and I spent most of our years growing up.

Dad embraced Lanark-living, joining Lanark Golf Club in 1966, and was very proud to be awarded Life Membership of the club several years ago. He often commented that the golf course was his “safety valve”. In the days of Thursday half-day closing in Lanark he could be found out on the course with many Lanark stalwarts, many of whom have since, sadly, passed.

Dad also served in two local organisations for a combined total of 60 years. First, Lanark Round Table in which he was Chairman in 1973 and Chairman of Area 47 in 1975. “Table Days”, as he referred to them, were times when life-long friendships were made and even until not so long ago he enjoyed the camaraderie of the “41 Club” – a group of Lanark ex-Tablers who, because all members were required to give up their membership of Round Table once they turned 40, continued to meet regularly and did so for a further 45 years! Indeed, despite the fact that Round Table was made up of the “great and the good” businessmen of Lanark there was many a tale of mischievous behaviour during visits to other clubs where, for example, a whole greenhouse’s worth of plants was liberated from Hamilton Town Hall – Bill Lewis, do you remember that escapade? The other organisation Dad served with for many years, joining in 1978, was Lanark Rotary Club – he was President in 1992, made an Honorary Member and served in many roles on the Rotary Committee over his nearly 50-year association with the club. In addition, Dad served as Chair of the Merchants’ Association of Lanark and was a member of the Guildry of Lanark.

Dad’s hobby of photography was one he passed onto me and I very much enjoyed the “Dad and son” ventures to Lanark Camera Club on Tuesday nights in the 1980s – again a club where he served as secretary for more than 10 years. While photography for me and golf for both Katherine and me were activities that Dad took huge delight in coaching and encouraging us in, one hobby where his skill was such that it would have been impossible for us to rival him was that of model ship building. We’re not talking Airfix kits here – this was proper shipbuilding albeit in miniature; every deck piece, plank, mast, sail, you name it, cut individually and carefully placed in position – the photo of The Bounty on the back of the Order of Service is just one example of his work.

In November 1998, the next generation of Wyllies began with the birth of his only grandchild and my son, Douglas. Dad was so thrilled to become “grandpa” and took great delight in watching Douglas follow in his footsteps by playing in George Heriot’s pipe band, where Douglas played the tenor drum. Dad particularly enjoyed seeing Douglas play at the World's in Glasgow, and at the Cowal Gathering which brought back memories of him being there 60 years earlier. Dad lived to see Douglas graduate from the University of Glasgow and follow in both his parents’ footsteps in studying for a PhD at University College London. We know too he was proud to see Katherine and me make our way in the world, even if he kept asking me why my work took so long and why I had not found the answer yet to the research questions that I’ve been asking since 1988.

Mum and Dad had a love of travel, perhaps ignited by that honeymoon to Switzerland, enjoying trips to visit me during my time in San Francisco, Katherine in Hong Kong which opened gateways to mainland China, Asia, Australia and New Zealand, as well many a holiday in Europe and, of course, so many happy times spent on family holidays in St Andrews, where Dad was also a proud member of The New Golf Club for over 35 years.

In recent years Dad’s health steadily declined but he still played golf with the “coffin dodgers”, as they styled themselves, until he was 82 and could be easily spotted at a distance by the smoke emanating from his pipe – as the late Keith Darroch would often comment, “Here comes Sam’s pipe, quickly followed by Sam”. Despite his failing health, Dad continued his life-long passion of gardening until quite recently, and he particularly enjoyed growing fruit and veg and supplying us with a variety of, at times, quite interesting produce. Only last summer he sent me on an errand to find the leek variety, Musselburgh, that he was keen to plant. Indeed, being keen on ensuring only the best for his garden, I recall when we lived in Albany Drive, he thought nothing of having half a ton of horse manure dumped on our front drive! Being pupils at Lanark Grammar School at the time, which was directly across the road, I don't think Katherine ever forgave him for the embarrassment it caused her! He certainly was far more adept as a gardener than he was as a winemaker, as his many attempts at home-brewing often resulted in the creation of beverages that rivalled the most potent paint-strippers.

Mum cared for Dad in his final years with a love forged from what was to be a marriage of over 63 years – the selfie on the back of the Order of Service was taken on the day celebrating their Diamond Wedding Anniversary. Katherine and I thank her from the bottom of our hearts for her selfless dedication in looking after Dad; we know, at times, it wasn’t easy. It was only in Dad’s final months that some of this care duty was taken on by the wonderful staff from South Lanarkshire Health Services and latterly the many teams of superb healthcare workers who provided multiple daily visits and the most excellent care that allowed Dad to spend his final weeks at home – as he wanted. He was discharged from his most recent hospital stay just in time to spend Christmas and Hogmanay with the family. When asked one day by one of the carers, "How are you today, Sam?” He responded, “Still here!” I think that might have been the same day he asked for a whisky for breakfast! In his final days, we managed to have several more special moments sharing family memories and watching slideshows of our younger days, Dad even correcting us on dates and places!  

Dad died, peacefully, just after 9:00pm on Tuesday 13 January, at the age of 89, and with Mum, Katherine and me by his bedside. Grief is, of course, the price we pay for love, but Mum, Katherine and I take great comfort that we were all together at what might be described as a perfect ending.