Serving the communities of Bures St Mary and Bures Hamlet
Dennis- Eulogy given by Ivan Ambrose at the Funeral Service




Dennis Albert Ambrose could not come into this world in a conventional manner, that would be too easy.

On the 1st August 1945 at 5 Nayland Road in Bures, a row of houses next to the school and opposite the Victory Hall, his life began with his lungs not working.

He was placed in unbearably cold water, then equally unbearable hot water in order to shock him into breathing.
He always said that this was why he had such soft skin, but it never felt that soft to me.

He became the youngest of the 3 Ambrose brothers, first Brian, then Colin and finally Dennis.
Ambrose, Brian, Colin, Dennis…A B C D

His middle name, Albert, was taken from his dads' twin brother.
In 1949 the family moved to number 1 Claypits Avenue.

He was not a great lover of school.
It did not go down at all well when Brian, four years older than Dennis he left school,
and matters were made worse when Colin also left 2 years later,
leaving him to continue on through his schooling at Bures primary and then Stoke By Nayland.

When he finally escaped, he got a job as a plumbers mate with Jimmy Wilding at Little Cornard but didn't like this very much so got a Job with David Leyland at Bures Hall. He never moved away from farming again
After a year or so he took a job with Tom Murfit, a farmer who kept pigs at Ropers Hall but after a while, Tom sold up and dad found himself back at Bures Hall. It was during this period of his life that he met my mother.

When David Leyland then also sold up, and with a wife, a son and a daughter, he moved to North End near Little Yeldham and worked long hours for Bob Yeldham, a farmer and contractor.

A job then came up at Fysh House Farm which he applied for and got so the family moved back to Bures and moved into 3 Sudbury Road in 1973 which is where daughter number 2 came on the scene in 1975.

1 Fysh House Farm Cottages became vacant so the whole family moved in there and that is where he stayed for the remainder of his life,
until Motor Neurone Disease paid a visit.

No boy could want to be his dad more than I wanted to be mine…and that still stands today.

Whilst some children had their dads take them to football, mine let me sit in all the dust and noise of the cab-less combine when I got home from school.
The one time we did have a kick about together, on his first kick, my new ball hit a barbed wire fence and punctured.
I had only kicked it once!

My initial upset soon faded though as he let me sit with him on the tool box in his tractor, for what seemed like hours, but probably wasn't actually that long…I quickly forgot about the ball.

On my 13th birthday he taught me how to drive a tractor.
From then on, I spent every summer holiday working on the farm pretending to be him.
In later years the farm upgraded to its first four wheeled drive.
I came home and saw it sitting there in front of the cow shed.
It took no time at all before I was out in the mud testing the four-wheel drive capability.
It didn't get stuck, but it did get muddy…very muddy.
Dad made me stay outside scrubbing that tractor in the rain until it seemed cleaner than it was when it was delivered.
Even the tyres had to be scrubbed clean.
One of many life lessons taught.

He taught me how to do so many things, then he let me go off and try for myself.

I quickly learnt to do exactly as he had instructed, nothing more, nothing less, then things would always work out ok.
Dad operated very much along the lines of 'give a man a fish and you will feed him for a day,
show him how to catch a fish and you will feed him for a lifetime'

I never got handouts but he always made sure I had the opportunity to earn and therefore pay for what I wanted.
He told me once "Never hurt anyone whilst they are alive and they won't hurt you when they are dead"
He didn't mean physical pain though.

Dad was a sensitive and emotional person and the thought of upsetting someone would hurt him far more than anything physical.
He was a kind man.
The lessons were endless right until the end.

My sister Becky and I were with dad at that end.
We were discussing dad's faith, and how much comfort it bought him.
We sat either side of him holding his hands.
He was obviously getting worse and I said' if there is someone up there, enough is enough. Its time he went'
Becky then placed his wooden cross that he carried with him, into his hands.
Within 5 minutes he had gone.

He came into the world with his lungs not working, he left when his lungs stopped working
…his strong kind heart was the last thing to stop.
He was baptised on the 2nd September (1945) he died on 2nd September
The circle of life.

He had faith that he was going to a better place…and that was the last lesson he taught me
….to find some kind of faith for myself.

My last words are from the man himself.
Now his instructions were not followed to the letter for practical reasons,
so please imagine this is a Saturday because he was adamant that words were not changed.
This comes from his funeral book.

Thank you for coming.

I chose a Saturday so you did not skive off work.
When I knew I was on my way, I had a prayer and told god that I had kept the path around the church weed free,
did he want me to do around the gates of heaven?
Thumbs up, great I knew where I was going.
When I get there and settled in, I will make a plan.

We cannot get heavy qouits to heaven so I will make some light ones out of small clouds
and we can then throw them to big clouds…I think.

But when Bures Dragons get here it will all be set up.
I will get Steve Davis to help me form a league.
Anyhow, before we go, I want to play Green Fields of France for my uncles killed in the first world war.
Written by an English vicar and sung by Finbar Fury.
Thank you all and thank you Gay for all you have done.
I love you.
Could you send me an email with the cost of the wake to dennisinheaven.com
Look after beautiful Bures.