My dad, Bleddyn Harris, who has died aged 75, after suffering from Parkinson’s, was a man of quiet integrity and dry humour, and was stubborn to the core.
Bleddyn grew up in Tonyrefail, south Wales, only child of Ray Harris, a miner, and Peg (nee Turner). He inherited his mother’s kind heart and his father’s shrewd brain. Circumstances had forced Ray to leave school at 14 and start down the pit. It meant the world to his parents that Bleddyn could complete his education at Tonyrefail grammar.
Bleddyn’s early jobs included local government administrator, kibbutz farmhand and motorway construction worker. He studied politics at Bristol Polytechnic. Alongside his degree, he acquired an expert knowledge of local pubs, hitchhiked through Europe, and grew out his sensible haircut into a flowing mane – much to his daughters’ delight when we found the photos years later.
In 1979 Bleddyn married Barbara Smart, a teacher, and later a primary school headteacher. They built their family and careers together in Yorkshire, where my sister Megan and I were born and raised. Bleddyn taught sixth-form politics and economics at Outwood Grange school (now academy) from the mid 1980s until 1997, when he took early retirement on health grounds.
Bleddyn was a staunch trade unionist, fundraising through the miners’ strike, even exploiting the relative novelty of his hands-on fatherhood with a sponsored nappy change. At work, he had no gift for diplomacy with management, but he greatly enjoyed teaching and often kept in touch with former students.
Following his Parkinson’s diagnosis in 2002, Bleddyn’s fortitude was matched by that of Barbara. He rejected the description of her as “his rock” as cliched and inaccurate – she was a force rather than an immovable object, with indefatigable energy to advocate on his behalf. Between his determination and her support, they sustained a happy quality of life for more years than anyone could have predicted.
Bleddyn was a lifelong Dylan devotee, and believed most conversations were improved by quoting a line from Bob. He collected Left Book Club first editions and rugby player autobiographies with equal enthusiasm. He was stoical in the face of brain surgery but wept freely every time he watched Brassed Off. He was a skilled woodworker, a terrible backseat driver, a connoisseur of cakes and cheese sandwiches.
His loyalty ran deep and he made friendships for life. He was the best dad his children could have wished for.
In 2018, Bleddyn and Barbara moved to Bristol to be closer to me and my sister. Over the last three years of his life, his mental state sadly deteriorated – but thanks to the care he received at the nursing home where he lived from 2020 he felt safe and comfortable.
He is survived by Barbara, Megan and me.
