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Edwin John Renals

22 April 1931 — 28 June 2023

Edwin John Renals was born on 22 April 1931 at Bazley's Bungalow, Lanhydrock — the barn his father Bob had converted into a family home, with no mains water and no electricity. He died on 28 June 2023, aged 92.

His Celebration of Life was held on Friday 7 July 2023 at St Breoke Church, Wadebridge, conducted by Reverend Steve Payne. He is buried at St Breoke churchyard, close to his son Paul, who tragically predeceased him.

Edwin was the eldest son of Robert Coppin 'Bob' Renals and Charlotte Orchard, and the elder brother of Roy Frederick Renals. By profession he was a school teacher — a mathematician and generalist who taught across all the Wadebridge schools and was known to generations of pupils simply as Sir.

The Family's First Historian

This account of my grandfather's service in the First World War was researched and written by my uncle Edwin following Bob's death. Like so many of his generation Bob never spoke of his experiences. Edwin gave him back his voice.

Working from war diary pages, the Military Medal citation, a Cornish Guardian interview with Bob, the Will Roberts obituary, and the Tozer diary extract, Edwin compiled a complete account of Bob's service — from Essex and Gallipoli, through Egypt and Palestine, to the Somme and the Armistice. It is published in full on this site.

Read the War Diary →

Ed and Brenda

Edwin John Renals and Brenda Julyan — their wedding day

Edwin John Renals on his wedding day with Brenda Julyan, believed to have been married at St Breoke Church, near Wadebridge — the church where Edwin was later laid to rest in June 2023, aged 92, alongside his son Paul who predeceased him. Wedding date to confirm.

A Celebration of Life

The following eulogies were delivered at Ed's Celebration of Life at St Breoke Church, Wadebridge, on Friday 7 July 2023. They are reproduced here with the family's blessing, as the fullest and truest account of the man.

As spoken by Stephen Renals

Dad

Thank you for coming today and sharing our celebration of a life well lived.

Ed was born on the 22nd April 1931 at Bazley's Bungalow Lanhydrock, Bodmin. It was only 30 years after the death of Queen Victoria — practically a different era.

Typical of practically all rural dwellings at that time there was no mains water or electricity. Yet Dad never complained. He would always tell us about his childhood through a series of vivid anecdotes that always had us laughing no matter how many times he told them.

Dynamite

One of his most popular was the story about the garden shed. The two boys were forbidden to enter it but this would not deter Ed who after a furtive day exploring the shed spotted a cardboard box stored away on the very top shelf. Upon climbing up to the shelf and opening the box he found his Dad's store of dynamite. There was no Health and Safety rules back then! By the way this little store came in very handy when Bob decided to create their own private water supply as a couple of well-placed sticks of dynamite saved days of strenuous digging time! Guy Fawkes was never the same for Ed after that explosion.

Dentist / Blacksmith

Dad always complained about dentists — normally it was about their charges, but his concern was more deep rooted (excuse the pun) than this. One day his father's farm horse went lame and he had to walk it up to the local Blacksmith in Cardinham. When he arrived, the blacksmith was not in his forge but sitting on a stool in the middle of Cardinham Green with a rather distressed man's head clamped firmly between his legs. As the only owner of a sturdy pair of pliers in the village he also served as the village dentist and was very good at pulling out nails or teeth.

Unfortunately, he was less skilled at identifying rotten teeth but apparently he would always find the offending tooth in the end!

German Bomber

One of his most vivid memories and the one that had the most impact on him happened on the 7th August 1942. Aged just 11, Ed was out exploring in a field in the Glyn valley when he heard a series of explosions from Bodmin and then a deafening engine roar and two German bombers flew at treetop height right over him. He vividly remembers seeing the rivets on the underside of the plane and the pilot turning his head and looking straight at him. They had just dropped a succession of bombs and cannon fire over the town hitting the gasworks, a food depot and many family homes — he always told the story with a sense of history but it must have been terrifying for such a small boy.

Schooling and early career

Ed went to a small school in Lanhydrock. It consisted of just two classes and catered for an age range between 3 to 11. There were just two female teachers to teach such a wide range of ages and abilities yet he remembers that they totally controlled the classes and you could hear a pin drop in the lessons — a lesson he took to heart for his own teaching career.

After passing his O Levels at Bodmin Grammar he started his career in the Civil Service in London. This was a big jump for a Cornish boy and he always missed Cornwall. Ed had many qualities but deference or respect for hierarchy was not one of them. He worked at the Admiralty in London and one of his first assignments was to take a report urgently to a senior Admiral in the Ministry. Ed did as he was told and marched straight into the Admiral's office and placed the report right under his nose. The old Admiral did not even look up or acknowledge him but reached out and rang a bell which was immediately answered by a flustered flunkey who marched Ed out of the office and gave him a robust lesson in civil service etiquette.

Not surprisingly Ed returned to Cornwall and decided to train to be a teacher. He attended the teacher training college in Exeter where he completed his studies. His rooms were dark and dingy, so Ed decided to make his own table light. Ed became very good at DIY but at this early stage was clearly still learning as he became very adept at turning his light on and off without touching any metal and thus saving himself from a very sharp electric shock.

Mum

Ed started his career at Wadebridge Primary Boys School and indeed would end up teaching at all the Wadebridge schools — he always talked about his pupils and always enjoyed finding out how they were doing and what their families were up to. Back at that time the Boys School had to walk across to the Girls School for lunch and Ed would escort them down through the town and over the bridge. This would mean he would walk past Lenahans Sports & Leisure store in Molesworth Street where he could not help noticing a very glamorous girl on the counter.

Soon he was looking for any excuse to go into the shop and after purchasing a whole range of fishing tackle, his fishing licence and a bag for his mother (good one Dad) he plucked up the courage to ask her out on a date. She did say no the first time — and I only found out a couple of days ago why. Ed was not the only man on the scene. We do not know who the other man was so there is a pint of beer at Slades House for anyone who can shed light on this mystery man.

But Ed was always determined (or stubborn!) and he got his girl. If we could go back in a time machine exactly 65 years, 11 months, 33 days and 21.5 hours, we would see Ed and Brenda standing in this church taking their wedding vows. On one side would be Charlotte, Bob and Roy; on the other side would be Frank and Gladys, surrounded by uncles, aunts, cousins and friends who would be so well known to so many of you in this church today.

After the wedding and reception Ed borrowed his dad's car for the honeymoon. It was a genuine Cornish car that was not happy leaving Cornwall. It managed to make it to Sticklepath where it refused to go any further, so Ed and Brenda spent an unplanned but idyllic honeymoon in Sticklepath — unfortunately Sticklepath has never been able to take advantage of this to establish itself as an aspirational Devon honeymoon destination.

Family

There were three important themes to Ed's life:

• Family
• Sense of humour
• Love of life

He was so proud of his family but would never boast or shout about it. This was brought home to me when I passed the 11 plus. It did not mean much to me at the time — our names were just read out in class that we were going to Bodmin for our schooling and I remember walking home quite perturbed about having to go to Bodmin for school rather than staying in Wadebridge. As I turned into Whiterock Close Dad was standing at the top of the steps — we had the only bungalow in Wadebridge with its staircase on the outside of the house!

My immediate reaction was 'Oh No what have I done now' but as soon as he saw me, he threw open his arms and had the widest smile on his face, which I can see now. It meant so much to him. If he only knew then what his grandchildren would achieve, he would have gone into orbit.

When I went to Bodmin Grammar I was very aware that Dad and Mum had gone there too. It was really brought home to me when, sitting in a maths class and looking for something to entertain me, I leafed through the names of the pupils who had the book before me and found Dad's name under the 4th leaf. Unfortunately, that is the only thing about maths that Dad and I had in common. Dad was a maths teacher — maths did not come naturally to me and very soon I found myself in the bottom set for maths where I could only take the CSE qualification. I did not dare tell Dad but of course come parents' evening he would find out. I was in bed when he returned and I nervously awaited the inevitable summons — it never came.

He never said a word but would just quietly ask how I was doing in maths and could he help in any way. I knew he was disappointed, but he never let on.

I passed my maths O Level.

Teaching

Many of you will know Ed through his teaching career. Through this he came to know several generations of Bridgers. Indeed, whenever I met someone new from Wadebridge, I always introduced myself as Eddy Renals' son — it was the best introduction you could wish for.

Ed took his own school experience to heart and would always ensure he maintained discipline in his class. He taught all his three boys and we all knew we had to behave much better in class than we did at home.

However, he loved children, seeing them all as work in progress and knowing how to motivate them to achieve their potential. He was always interested in the lives of his pupils, what they were doing, their families — and enjoyed nothing more than having a chat in Molesworth Street with one of his extended family. It is lovely to see all the comments made online after his passing was announced — he would have loved reading them and he would have had a quip or comment about every one of you.

As you would expect he had a lot of anecdotes about his teaching career but one in particular stands out, as for one of the only few times the joke was on Ed. He often mentioned a Secondary School teacher called Frederick Nurse. A small man with a large cape who ruled his class with a rod of iron. He was nicknamed Fanny by his pupils and Ed just thought this to be a strange derivative for Frederick but would use his nickname on numerous occasions. When he was telling his granddaughter Kelynn about his Fanny Nurse anecdotes, he began to notice that she was going a strange colour and making strange noises — like all the other grandchildren, Kelynn has inherited Ed's sense of humour. He carried on regardless until she could not stop and burst out laughing. When Ed asked if she was alright, she had to diplomatically explain to Grandad the context of Fanny and Nurse. He thought this was absolutely hilarious which ensured we were all subject to repeat Fanny Nurse anecdotes for the rest of the year. Indeed, the last time he told one to me was just a month ago.

Dress Code

Ed was always very smartly dressed when about town and would take great delight in tipping his hat to the ladies, especially his ex-pupils. However, don't be fooled into thinking that he always dressed in his best clothes. He was very happy when flared trousers came back in fashion again, claiming that his 1970s polyester trousers were once again leading in the fashion stakes, only to be soundly disabused by his more fashion-aware grandchildren. Indeed, the grandchildren struggled most with his pink Trago Mill tracksuit that he regularly wore around the house in their most formative years.

Ed did not believe in buying new clothes unless he really had to and would always get his money's worth from his existing wardrobe. One pair of trousers he particularly liked he kept on wearing even after the fly zip had broken. This was a particularly unfortunate choice of clothing on the occasion when the police were investigating reports of a flasher that had been seen in the Whiterock area and were interviewing everyone on the Close to see whether anyone else had witnessed him.

Ed did not just make his fashion statements in the house. The family often used to go to a little place called Parsons Hut at Boobies Bay by Trevose Head. Ed used to like surfing, which he did well into his seventies and early eighties. His 1960s bathing suit had long worn out and he did not want to buy a new one, so he used to go surfing in his very large Y-fronts, walking without a care in the world down through the beach. The family code for Ed's surfing — that a great white had been sighted off Trevose Head — would have caused great consternation if leaked on the internet.

Wadebridge

Ed was very involved with the town both through his teaching and his lifestyle interests. He loved nature and the outdoor life and fishing was one of his passions. He was instrumental in setting up the Wadebridge and District Angling Association and the membership card he proudly held shows him as member No. 4. He would be regularly seen fishing the River Camel but it was always a bone of contention that he did not catch the largest fish in the family. His 12lb salmon was roundly beaten by Brenda's 17lb beauty.

Ed was also heavily involved in the Wadebridge Round Table and 41 Club. There are many anecdotes of his times with his friends, none of which are suitable for this venue.

Many of you will be aware that Ed lived at Whiterock Close. Whiterock Close was actually a series of allotments and Ed persuaded the council to release them for building plots. Because Ed had made this happen, he was offered a choice of plots, initially choosing plot 1 but this soon changed to plot 2 to accommodate the size of the bungalow he was planning to build. Dad helped build the bungalow along with a local builder called Sid Scott. I can remember often visiting the site to see Dad digging the foundations — they were so deep they were well over my head. Ed built great foundations — for his home and his family.

Family

I am not sure I can put into words what Ed meant to his family. Family to Ed was everything. Thank you Dad for being a devoted husband to Brenda. Thank you for being an adored Dad to myself, Paul and Trevor. Thank you for being a wonderful Grandad — all your grandchildren idolised you. Thank you for being such an inspirational teacher and friend.

Many people say you actually die twice. The first time when you stop breathing. The second time when someone says your name for the last time. Dad — for your family you are going to be nearly as immortal as the Greek Gods you talked about in your classes.

As spoken by Stephen Renals

As spoken by Trevor Renals

Goodbye Dad

On those rare occasions when I walked through Wadebridge and actually met someone from Wadebridge I'd invariably be asked the same question, 'How's father?' Sorry Mum, they'd normally eventually get around to asking about mother too, but it was clear that Dad had a place in the hearts of many Bridgers. Having enquired about Dad's health they would usually share a fond memory of Dad as their teacher, leading chess club or as football coach. Dad loved football and my lack of interest and ability must have been a disappointment to him, but he never showed it. He let me find my own interests and then feigned an interest in them so that he could share them with me. That was typical of Dad. He seemed to be able to bring the best out of people and the genuine love that so many of his ex-pupils have demonstrated since his death is testament to that.

I can recall once visiting a friend's shop in Bodmin. There was a colourful character from a rather notorious Padstow family holding court and entertaining the shop with tales about himself. He was an eloquent person, who was clearly enjoying the attention. After a while he noticed me and, rocking back on his heels, asked me who I was. It's an old habit to tell people who I am in context to Dad, so I explained I was Eddy Renals' son, the teacher. Rarely have I seen someone's demeanour change so abruptly. The bravado vanished. He told me that Dad had been the only teacher who had believed in him and, if it hadn't been for Dad, he never would have completed school. He clearly appreciated that Dad had been pivotal to the trajectory of his life and was happy to admit it.

Thankfully, Dad enjoyed good health for the majority of his 92 years. I strongly suspect this was an early survival tactic he developed to protect himself from Gran's gypsy remedies. As a new-born he was fed snail slime and brown sugar to treat his whooping cough and any chest infection resulted in him having to drink fryers balsam, which is strictly not for internal consumption.

Even when he joined the RAF for his National Service he could not escape Gran's remedies. On his mother's instruction he ate sulphur to treat a skin rash, resulting in his fellow airmen breaking ranks on the parade ground the following day to escape his vile flatulence. Even the wrath of their commanding officer was preferable to Dad's wind.

But Dad wasn't immune to ill-health. The price we must occasionally pay for love is grief, and I believe he never recovered from the loss of our brother, Paul.

I would like to thank David Bray and his team for their care and professionalism. I would also like to thank the incredible staff of the NHS, particularly Wadebridge Surgery, and the wonderful staff of Marie Curie, for the care they gave Dad. My thanks to all our friends and family who have supported us through a tough time. Above all, I'd like to thank Mum for her devotion to Dad over their 65 years of marriage, especially near the end. Finally, I'd like to thank the community of Wadebridge for taking a Bodmin boy to their hearts.

When we thought the end had come and we were saying our goodbyes to Dad he struggled to communicate back, but one word he did manage to say to me was 'family'. That was typical of Dad. He absolutely loved his family. As it turned out he was made of tougher stuff than we had anticipated and his actual final word to me was 'beer'. Clearly, he held both family and beer in reverence and it's a philosophy I encourage you all to perpetuate.

As spoken by Trevor Renals

Family. Beer.

Ed Renals, 22 April 1931 — 28 June 2023