Tuesday 24 September 2013

In Memory of Archie Hickmott

Albert Hickmott, the little boy of Union Street, grew up to become the great man we all knew as Archie. Or as Uncle Bert. Or as Dad. As quiet and unassuming a man as you will even meet: get caught up in the drama of the day and you could easily miss him, sitting a little way off either with his nose in a book — a paperback thriller probably — or looking on with an enigmatic smile.
Archie liked to tell stories, when he got the chance, such as the time he watched from Dover Castle as a German battleship slipped past the English guns to pass unscathed through the Channel; or how his Uncle Jack Arnold led a Luftwaffe squadron in a deadly raid upon Detling aerodrome; or the time Vera Lynn harangued at him in the street because he had parked his articulated lorry in front of her house.
For all his gentleness, he was a strong man until his illness robbed him of his strength. His arms and shoulders betrayed his years at the wheel of truck or a bus, wrestling them round Kentish bends long before the advent of power steering or synchromesh gearboxes. He used to say, with typical humility, that, when he started out, lorry drivers were considered the lowest class, and looked down on even by other working men. But, even in retirement, Archie could walk into any transport cafe in Britain and be recognised — and welcomed by proprietors and drivers alike.
The First World War robbed him, eventually, of his father. He was brought up as an only child by his mother. Too young to fight in the next war—no doubt much to his mother’s relief—he worked as a driver to support the war effort. Afterwards he travelled in Europe, and fell for Paris’s charms. At the age of 25 he married Lil, a Hampshire beauty four years his junior, and together they worked and fretted and raised their four children. When Lil’s fragile health failed her, Archie sacrificed his own financial security to care for her till the end, but characteristically he did so without complaint.
Lil passed away in 1991 but Archie carried on, stoic as ever. He looked on as his children established homes and families of their own, helping as and when he could, sharing their upsets and their joys. He saw 11 grandchildren arrive and grow up, and 5 great grandchildren scattered across the land.

Archie was diagnosed with esophageal cancer last January, and was told by his doctor to expect to survive no more than six months. “I’ll take a year,” Archie said. In the end he took a year and a half, such was his strength, and sustained as he was by the loving care and selfless friendship of Carol, for which we thank her dearly. We all will miss Archie, but he deserves his rest.

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