Dave Gudgeon's life changed forever on the night of March 6, 1987, as he and his family caught a cross-Channel ferry back from the Belgian port of Zeebrugge.
The vessel, the Herald of Free Enterprise, capsized moments after leaving the harbour. Her bow doors had been left open, causing the sea to flood into the ship.
One hundred and ninety three passengers and crew were killed in the disaster, among them Mr Gudgeon's wife Eileen.
In the months that followed, he would join the Herald Families Association - a support group set up for survivors – and through the organisation met his future wife Irene, who had lost her husband, daughter and three-week-old granddaughter in the tragedy.
He would go on to become a doughty campaigner for issues close to his heart, most notably dementia, after Irene was diagnosed with the condition.
Now, following his death, at the age of 85, Mr Gudgeon has been remembered as a well-loved community man" whose epitaph is the many organisations and facilities set up through his dedication.
Born into a family of greengrocers, Mr Gudgeon, a lifelong Tottenham Hotspur supporter, was raised in Edmonton, North London.
He worked for the family business before undertaking his National Service, and then went on to find employment as a chef in various hotels in the London area.
During this time, automobile manufacturer Ford Motor Company was recruiting and offering lucrative pay for those working on its Dagenham production line.
Being a fast learner, Mr Gudgeon quickly worked his way up the ranks to eventually become a time and motion assessor.
This meant he would observe workers while using a timekeeping device to record the time taken to accomplish certain tasks. It was a job notorious for being unpopular in the industry.
Mr Gudgeon and Eileen were married for 28 years and together they had two daughters. Their elder daughter and her husband were with them on the Townsend Thoresen ferry when it capsized. They, with Mr Gudgeon, survived.
Mr Gudgeon never truly escaped the shadow of the tragedy.
South Norfolk councillor John Overton, a friend and colleague, said: “The emotional impact of this was brought to the fore on the anniversaries of the disaster and he was always ready to speak to the radio about the impact of it.
“He would speak freely with close friends but others had no idea of his horrors.”
Mr Gudgeon found solace with fellow survivor Irene, and the couple married two years after the disaster. Together, they returned to the seas on a series of cruising holidays around the world.
They lived for some years in Spain but decided to return to England in 1991, moving to Stoke Holy Cross, near Norwich, where they remained.
Irene’s granddaughter, Victoria - knowns as Tory - came to live with the couple during her teenage years. Now a trained nurse and mother-of-three, she was by his side when he died earlier this month.
After moving to Norfolk in the 1990s, Mr Gudgeon was elected to South Norfolk Council for the Liberal Democrats - although he always eschewed “inter-party shenanigans”.
“He would just get on and work for the benefit of his constituents,” said Mr Overton.
“He was assiduous in attending his local parish council meetings and reporting to them, later making working relationships with many of the parish councillors.
“He was deeply disappointed in being defeated at the 2002 elections as otherwise, he would have been chairman the following year.”
Following his defeat, he got involved in other community work and established, with George Shearer, the free newspaper Five Villages which was delivered to every address Poringland, Stoke, the Framinghams and Caistor St Edmund. The enterprise continues today as 5+ Magazine.
He also helped to establish a village cinema and loved surrounding himself with electrical gadgets.
“A particular joy of his was to have the biggest TV on the market in his home with a top range hi-fi to play his collection of CDs at full blast,” Mr Overton added.
Following 27 years of marriage, Irene died in 2016 after being diagnosed with dementia four years previously. She was 76.
Before her death, Mr Gudgeon had thrown himself into caring for her, contacting groups such as the Dementia Cafe in Wymondham for support. He maintained his contacts with the group for the rest of his life.
Seeing a need for a similar support group in the five villages, he established a group with support from councillors at South Norfolk Council. It is still going strong at St George’s Hall, Stoke, today.
Mr Gudgeon was also a keen birdwatcher and fisherman and was instrumental in establishing the Poringland Lakes where a lake has been named after him and a picnic bench with a plaque will be placed in his memory. He also used to sell bird seeds and feeds outside his house for many years.
“He was, first and foremost, a well-liked and loved community man and his epitaph is the many organisations and facilities that would not have been there without his hard work and influence,” Mr Overton added.
His family said: “He was a truly special man and it is lovely to hear how many others saw that and appreciated him. [The] description of him as a true gentleman of the community is most apt.”
Mr Gudgeon died on February 18, aged 85, at the Norfolk and Norwich University Hospital following a long period of ill health and disability.
- To pay tribute to a loved one, email norfolktributes@archant.co.uk
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A poem of love
In 2017, at the launch of a campaign at the Forum to make Norwich a dementia-friendly city – one of the first in the UK – Dave Gudgeon, then aged 80, read a poem inspired by his late-wife Irene’s dementia diagnosis.
Irene, by Dave Gudgeon (2014)
Irene? Yes she's still there.
Though a little harder to find now than once she was.
Her make-up, whilst still religiously applied each morning,
A little less well done, sometimes perhaps too dark or maybe mask-like, the edges not quite toned in right.
But, with a little help, she is still smartly dressed.
Does she know me? Yes, I think she does.
Does she believe she is the wife I love so much and have done for so long?
Of that I'm not so sure.
Gone have her previous interests… reading sewing, knitting… activities that once helped to define her.
The children and grand-children's names are harder now to drag from the ravaged recesses of her mind.
As is where she lives and the fact that she has lived there for many years.
The questions, repeated many time, the memory of having been asked them lasting but scant moments.
Like a slowly sailing ship, disappearing into a bank of fog, dementia is gradually stealing her memories away...
...So sad to watch a lifetime winding down in such a way, and sadder still, the knowing that the outcome is inexorable.
But for now, we can still enjoy moments of laughter and closeness, with lots of kisses, which may once have been passionate, but, though still loving, are now the kisses of a child for its parent.
So, Irene? Yes, my girl's still there, somewhere, deep inside, and I will be there for her, for as long as I am able.
For I love her dearly.
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