John Beard was said in his death certificate to have died of 'extreme old age'. That would have amused him. But then he was very old for someone who always managed to seem so much younger.

There was, however, nothing extreme about John Beard. He was about the most even tempered person I have ever known, and very organised. The first thing that comes to mind about him was his amazing range of interests, and his ever enquiring mind. All his life he was an active walker. He recorded his travels, along with a collection of well-chosen souvenirs that documented every aspect of his long life. He researched his family genealogy back numerous generations to the 18th Century.

He was an active ping-pong player until his sight failed in his late 80s. He loved Aston Villa football club and was one of the original shareholders and the flowers on his coffin today are claret and blue in recognition. He loved trains and steam. He loved stocks and shares, and made a tidy sum from his investments – he loved reading the financial press and when he was able to do so, the share prices on Teletext. He mastered using a computer in his 90s, sticking very large black on white letters over the keyboard so that he could see the letters to type. He wrote – unpublished books and verse (Colin will read some later). He would not claim that this was poetry, but it provides an amused comment on everything he observed. One was published in the Daily Mail and even during his last stay in hospital one was published in the local paper.

John Beard was a talented man, born to a humble family in Birmingham. On leaving school he spent a number of years as a shipping clerk but soon grew restless and left to walk and camp around Europe and see some of the places that he had read about in the shipping manifests. He visited Belgium, France, Switzerland, Germany and Italy at a time when such independent travel was not common and one which heralded immense change and portents of war. His travels are neatly recorded, illustrated by postcards and photographs described in his plain and direct style and I shall treasure them.

He had harboured a dear wish to qualify as a doctor but he had had to start his working life too soon, so on his return from Europe he joined the newly-formed medical unit of the Territorial Army. When war was declared in 1939 he saw service in France, India and Burma as a medical orderly. He was immensely proud of being on the Olympics Organisation committee for the 1948 London games, as a medical adviser. But it was in school-mastering where he found his role in life, and he taught until he retired about thirty years ago. Few people now realise that he was a skilled teacher of the deaf. The use of sign language fascinated me as a child and he taught me the alphabet and simple phrases with his characteristic patience. Teaching suited his almost innocent love of knowledge, and he was regarded as an excellent teacher and mentor by his many students.

He was always a family man. His personal life was tinged by tragedy, since he was married twice to wives who died before him. His first wife, Pauline, was a talented artist and writer who died at the age of 25 when they had been married for only 2 years. He later married Helen, a History teacher who shared many of his interests and voluntary activities and they were very happily married for over 25 years. Both he loved dearly, but rarely did he show the grief he felt and the loneliness. He had no children but always took an active interest in his niece, my mother, and her family – my sister Sally and myself, and our husbands and children. We would talk on the telephone at least once a week; he would ask how things were and share his latest interests. I was often sent letters, with newspaper clippings, and his latest verse.

In Warwick, he formed a close affection for Colin and Chris Beasley who looked after and supported him over a period of 20 years and their daughter Rebecca who treated him as a grandfather. He would go to their house for meals and to share in family events. Chris was amazed about the amount he could eat, and still stay so incredibly thin.

Later in life, his love of travel still not quite sated, John loved to go to places of interest by coach, especially Weston Super Mare – where he had a liking for the Sacher's tea room. He also regularly visited London by train arriving via the more sedate Marylebone line and spending just an hour or two before returning to Warwick. He still loved walking in his 90s and the park and his ice cream there were always a delight to him.

So how could I describe this exceptional man whom I was so fortunate to have as a great uncle? Words spring to mind: energetic; independent; enquiring; quiet; humorous; perceptive; wise; having simple pleasures; kind and generous; thoughtful; organised. Above all he accepted life as it is, with wry humour and little complaint. He was always young in spirit and to me, as to so many people, a good friend. - Lesley Cartwright