The following words are reproduced with kind permission of Jan Etherington and were delivered at Di Kingshott's funeral, which was held at St Andrew’s Walberswick on 2nd May 2019.
Di and Gary moved into Walberswick, around the same time as Gavin and me, 6 years ago. They were easily, the tallest couple I’d ever seen and possibly, the best looking. They cycled through the village, a dog in each basket, glowing and strong. Unlike many newcomers there was ‘no nose in the air’ ness. They stopped and talked to people. To everybody.
Yes, I know they were professionally good with people, after running a pub together for 40 years but this was more than small talk and passing the time of day. We liked them. Everybody liked them. They came down to the beach, where the rest of us swimmers gather at sunrise. For a short time, they parked their towels at a discreet distance and swam together but very soon, the towels moved closer and they joined us and fitted right in. And every morning, from then on, we swam and talked, sometimes sang together.
Happy times continued, as they threw themselves into Village life, stepping in to take over the running of the Village Fete, in 2017. It was Di who demanded giant, cut out sailors, to line The Street, for the Fete and who drove her drop-head Mercedes, through the fete crowds, carrying the fete opener, Julia Josephs, to the podium. Naturally, Di chose the perfect outfit, with the theme of the fete – ‘We are sailing,’ - a jaunty sailor suit and cap - as you can see in her gorgeous photo on the front of the Order of Service.
Di had an outfit for every occasion. She loved clothes and with her tall, slim figure, clothes loved her. Going out to tea with Di meant we FRANTICALLY rummaged through our wardrobes, in a futile attempt to try and look half as glamorous as she did. Many of us have done our nails today and Gary did ask me which hat I was wearing. He was only half joking because Di did love a hat. She borrowed a few of mine and infuriatingly, they always looked better on her! She enjoyed looking good and in a photo, taken at her cousin's daughter’s wedding, three weeks ago, she didn’t just look as if she was having a good day. She looked simply fantastic.
I’ve never met anyone with so many friends. These were not Facebook or WhatsApp linked-ins – they were real friends, good friends and she and Gary saw a lot of their friends, often travelling to the legendary city of Bury St Edmunds, just to have supper with some of the Bury brigade. Di acquired wonderful friends because she was such a good friend herself - very, very good at friendship. She looked after her friends – even when she was ill, she always had time to talk to them on the phone and was actively counselling a number of chums, who were having their own problems, right up to the end. She remembered what everyone was up to. Ask her how she was and the answer was ‘Oh, a bit rubbish but how are you?/ how’s the building work/the Ink festival/ the grandchildren/ the overland trip to Siberia?‘ Whatever was going on in your life, Di remembered and was interested in hearing about it.
One day, in February, when I was in Australia, she and Gary came down to the beach and told the swimmers that Di’s treatment wasn’t working and that there was nothing else they could do for her. Typically, Di said ‘Don’t tell Jan. I don’t want to spoil her holiday.’ Selfless and thoughtful, as always. When I came back, she said she didn’t know how long she’d got and she didn’t want to know. But she wasn’t some saintly stoic. She had days of despair, anger and tears but always, she pulled herself back to positivity. It’s nonsense to say she ‘lived life to the full, in the last year. She couldn’t. But with Gary, she planned something for each day, resting and recovering, before the next outing. She hated the phrase ‘battling cancer’. The offensive implication being that if you don’t fight hard enough, it’s your fault if you lose. Di said ‘I’m not fighting any battles. It’s as much as I can do to get out of bed in the morning.’
Towards the end, she was in so much pain that some might say ‘Now, she’s gone to a better place’ but for Di, there was no better place than here. Everything, everyone she loved was here – is here – today. And Di had a great capacity for loving. She loved this village, her home and the beach; she loved her dogs – the much missed Skye and indestructible little Poppy, her wonderful mum. She loved cake and going out for tea. She absolutely loved her friends. But the love of her life is Gary. She said it wasn’t dying that she dreaded, it was leaving Gary. Since they first met, over 40 years ago, they’ve been together pretty much every day. Working, travelling and living together and after all that time, you’d expect a few cracks to show. But in the last two years, Gary and Di have given the rest of us a Masterclass in Married Love. Each of them looking out for the other, caring, concerned and constantly on the alert for a change of mood, or a need for comfort.
Everyone knows that Gary could teach Masterchef a thing or two. And when Di had little appetite, Gary created light, tempting, delicious mini meals. Each day, he planned a treat for her – a run out, lunch somewhere nice. He kept us all informed ‘She’s on her own today so it would be nice if you could call for a chat, maybe go out for a coffee.’ His understatement ‘She’s a bit blue today,’ told us that she urgently needed some company. And he found the most amazing gifts for her. On the back of this Order of Service is a photo taken on Di’s birthday, on February 10th. Di is wearing one of her presents, from Gary. No garage flowers or cheap chocolates for his Di. Nothing but the best. Vintage Dior sunglasses.
But Di was also, always, looking out for Gary. ‘He doesn’t want to spend all his time looking after me’. She encouraged him to get a very posh cycle and take off for long rides. Even in the last few weeks of her life, she insisted he go to check on their house in France. ‘He needs a break. I’ll be fine. I’m off on my holidays to Southwold, with Jane and Sha.’ Di and Gary’s arrival in the village, their warmth, hospitality and sense of fun proved that new friendships can be made at any age and are just as strong and important as the friends you’ve had for decades.
Gary is overwhelmed at the cards and messages he has received – nearly 100 but here, friends – old and new - share their memories of lovely Di and incidentally, Di is one of those rare people who’ve earned the adjective ‘lovely’ before their name. Gary began his brave and beautiful eulogy by describing his first sight of his future wife – She swept into my life, with her stunning figure and her glossy brunette bob and blew me away – big time. He, the teenage, junior chef - she the Head receptionist – way above him, in the hotel hierarchy. It could be the opening of a romantic novel, or a Richard Curtis film but this isn’t fiction. This was the beginning of Di and Gary’s life together. A true love story and "Love endures". God bless you, lovely, lovely Di.
Jan Etherington
Memories of Di Kingshott read out at the service:
I first met Di, over 30 years ago, when we’d both recently moved to Suffolk. She was the glamorous new Landlady of the BeeHive in Horringer . I was one of her first customers. Since then, Gary and Di have become a very big part of my life. We’ve spent 25 Christmases with the Kingshotts. Di is god- mother to my Son and has always been “Aunty Di” to my children. Always so positive, never complaining and always ready to give me tremendous help and support, whatever her situation. I shall miss her deeply.
Over 30 years ago, Di and Gary and I and my then wife were starting our businesses together. Mine was a hotel, theirs was the Beehive pub. They had a great deal of publicity success, in the 80s as ‘the pub that won’t serve chips’. We’d often all get together, on the Sunday night and Monday – the only time we all had off - and Di would often arrive with the pub’s takings in her enormous handbag. If I had a problem, I always spoke to Di. She was a great source of advice. She gave clear cut answers. Not long ago, I had a life-changing accident and I talked to Di about my future. She made me realise there were other paths to follow ’You should be a teacher. You’re very good at showing people how to do things.’ She saw your strengths and your weaknesses. She was a rock.
Di was in her element at the Red Nose Day jumble sale, finding fun Pirate outfits for the village fete. Rummaging for hours, with friends giggling away! Then Di invited us to a gorgeous supper, introducing us to new, lovely people. Thank you, warm, generous, lovely Di.
We moved house permanently around the same time as Di and Gary and didn’t know anybody at all! Steve was working in London and one morning, at Darsham station he met Di and Gary - needless to say, they chatted all the way to Liverpool Street!! When he came home he said “I met a really nice couple on the train, you’d like Di, here’s her number”. My immediate response was “I’m not phoning somebody I don’t know, I might not like her”! We met a month later at the tennis club and of course, the rest is history. Thank goodness they were all on that train. We will miss Di so much.
Just in time, I told Di: 'You are the best of British, Di – a wonderful example to us all'.
Di was a constant and shining star to both of us.
I will so miss her warm presence.
Di was a lovely soul, generous, warm and good fun.
When I think of Di, a warmth surrounds me, with her positivity being so infectious. I always picture her on the red bicycle, a vision of elegance and grace. Her strong views and opinions were often the basis of a stimulating evening, which we all enjoyed.
Di equals …Serenity
Di and I set off to Norwich, for manicures and pedicures. The salon looked a bit grim but in we went. Their only pedicure chair was in the basement. I was marched down there and sat, surrounded by broken pipes, rubbish bags, old food, and half a dozen unmade beds. Di kept calling down the stairs, from the manicure chair upstairs – in daylight! ‘Are you still there? Alright?’ We got the giggles. Couldn't stop. I'll miss her.
I was very surprised when Di became football mad, for a few weeks, during the 2018 World Cup. She was pretty passionate about it, too!
When I think of Di, I think of elegance and warmth. And laughter on the beach. One morning, Di greeted me with ‘Oh, no! You’ve had a haircut! You don’t look like a BeeGee anymore!
Di had an enormous zest for life. A skiing holiday that began on the snow and finished on a gondola in Venice - following a hairy, hysterical husky sledge ride enroute, was indicative of Di's sense of adventure and fun. She was a fiercely loyal friend and loved nothing more than catching up with everybody's news, in which she was genuinely interested.
A few weeks ago, she had her birthday breakfast at ours - sitting like a queen bee, with all her friends around her. She was so delighted and enjoyed it.
We were all delighted to welcome Di and Gary into our swimming group. They had such a wonderful sense of humour and Di was quickly up for the challenge of swimming in the icy cold winter sea. Even after Di was unwell she still came down to the beach on good days, always smiling, ready for a chat with everyone – never complaining. God bless you Di, miss you so much.
Di appearing over the sand dunes, on her way to the beach, immaculate, beautifully groomed, like a film star walking towards the camera.
My over-riding memory of Di, is of her driving down the road in her open-top Mercedes, smiling, with the wind in her hair, the sun in her eyes, (dogs in the back of course) looking very 1950s Hollywood glam, in a scarf and Dior sunglasses, waving as she roared past!
Or ‘Looking like Lady Penelope from Thunderbirds!’
Di was a joy to be with, she had such a sense of fun, was cheerful in the face of adversity, but also hard working, loving and pragmatic. She was an extraordinary person and we will all miss her.
Gary’s brother, Di’s brother in law, here from Sydney says ‘As a teenager, I vividly remember Gary bringing Di home to meet the family. Di looked and sounded smart, extremely friendly with an underlying confidence and strength. That assessment has been confirmed time and again, over the years. She and Gary have been a genuine example of how to live, love, share and manoeuvre through life, benefitting all those around them. An image, etched in my mind is sitting opposite Di, at a café in the South of France. No other woman can look as stunning in a pashmina as the beautiful Di. She will be painfully missed and always remembered.
My thoughts keep returning to Di, with her joyful, generous smile, sharing what she had left, of her green tea with me, after a chilly swim. Then, like a queen, cycling off with Gary, little dogs in baskets, to extend the lovely morning with yet another adventure. Love endures!
POEM – read by Gary Kingshott
No one belongs to us
Human beings are not food for human hunger
They are lotuses that bloom
For the world and its lord
Assiduously
And secretly
Through the days and nights
Through joy and sorrow
Prosperity and adversity
Through life and death
And countless cycles of season – they bloom
To be enjoyed for their sweetness
But not to be cut
With the knife of desire
We are to love
And be strong in love
But not possessed by our beloved
The human soul is above human desire
Quiet the evening, all noise hushed
Put out with tears, the fiery desire
Slowly, go back home
By Rabindranath Tagore
Di Kingshott by Gary Kingshott
Di swept into my life,
With her stunning figure
And glossy, brunette bob…
She blew me away - big time!
We got together
We lived together
We worked together
We dreamed together
We loved together
We're still together…
I'll miss her so very much
My wife - Di Kingshott