It’s taken me a while to write this blog post…
One of the reasons I started #MyWorld was to create somewhere I could think out loud, capture memories and leave little pieces of our family story behind for Alfie and Betsy. This is one of those posts.
A few months ago, we said goodbye to my Dad. It’s still difficult to write those words.
Like many of us, I always imagined Dad would somehow just #KeepGoing. He was one of life’s grafters. The sort of person who got on with things, fixed things, organised things and generally made life a little easier for everyone around him.
In English, the meaning of the name Ian is said to be strong. If ever there was a word that suited my Dad, it was that one. He was strong in every sense of the word, especially during the last few years of his life.
When I think about Dad, I don’t just think about one thing. I think about all the little things that made him, him. He was incredibly proud – proud of Mum, his children (daughters and son-in-laws) and his six grandchildren. He was also proud of his home, his garden, his latest building project, his car in the driveway and of course being a Pompey fan.
His garden was his pride and joy. The grass was always immaculate and heaven help anyone who damaged it. Family cricket games often came with a gentle reminder to be mindful of that ‘Wembley’ looking lawn before we started playing.
He loved a good lawn, flower bed but his particular love was for growing vegetables. The amazement of seeing a seed turn into something you could eat. Over the years he grew everything from radishes to corn on the cob – he was king of the BBQ and no dinner was not accompanied by something dad had grown.
Dad loved travelling too. Not necessarily the destination, but the journey. He always seemed happiest heading somewhere and talking about either a previous holiday or planning the next one. He would say he had travelled the world with Mum and what adventures they had, had.
His travels with mum and friends abroad ventured far and wide travelling to Australia, New Zealand, Antigua, Mexico, Canada, Alaska, Hong Kong, Thailand, Singapore and many other places in Europe – especially yearly visits to Madeira.
Music was another big part of his life. Growing up if he wasn’t listening to the sport on 5-live, we as kids would endure the sounds of the Nolan Sisters ‘I’m in the mood for Dancing’, Celine Dion or Elaine Page. He enjoyed musicals – especially if Elaine Page was in it and as kids he actively encouraged us all to learn to play an instrument, despite not being able to play or read music himself – although he would often be heard whistling a tune or two.
And then there was sport…
Dad loved sport – actually, that’s probably an understatement! Sport wasn’t something he just watched – it was something he lived. Growing up he was always there to take us, watch us and enjoy our love for sport. From swimming, gymnastics, horse riding, tennis and running – you name it he was there and a very proud parent. He was also very proud of mum and would often share memories of her running achievements to spur us on.
He himself enjoyed playing football, cricket and later in life took to playing table tennis. When he packed-up the bats he turned his attention to golf and became a member of Farnham Golf Club. He shared this passion with mum, and they had many a golfing weekend or holiday playing together.
He also enjoyed swimming – up until the last few years he would swim 2-3 times a week taking well-earned breaks in the sauna. This ritual continued whilst on holiday and every afternoon he would take to the pool to as he put it to “earn his evening meal”.
He loved cricket too and despite having a Surrey postcode he was a die-hard Hampshire fan and spent many a day at the Rose Bowl.
And, of course, there was Pompey – Dad had blue running through his veins.
For as long as I can remember, Portsmouth Football Club wasn’t simply a football team. It was part of who he was. I can still remember him taking me to my first match and asking me who I wanted to support – let’s be honest, there was only ever going to be one answer! Fratton Park was his second home, and I know the North Stand, Upper F Section, row L and K will also miss his rants at the referee, linesmen and Dad ever being the optimist. Fratton Park won’t be the same without him.
What I’ll remember most though isn’t the football, the gardening or the building projects. I’ll remember the way he made me and people feel. Dad loved his family fiercely.
He celebrated every achievement, no matter how small. He wanted to know how everyone was getting on and genuinely cared about the answer. He was generous with his time, his advice and his support.
Cancer may have changed many things during the last few years, but it never changed who he was at heart. He remained Dad – a proud husband, Dad and Grandad. A true inspiration with a good crop of hair and a mass of gold in his heart.
And whilst we miss him every single day, we’ll continue telling his stories, smiling at the memories and hearing his voice in all the things he loved.
Rest in peace Dad.
Leave a tribute 📝
This blog post is a tribute to my Dad, Alfie and Betsy-Ann’s Grandad – Ian Anscombe. He is much loved and will always be remembered.
If you’d like to leave a tribute, please do so in the comments below – we’d love to here them and keep his memory alive! 📣
Also if you’d like to donate – his chosen charities are:
Alfie, Betsy-Ann, Uncle Dave and myself are also running The Great South Run on October 17 & 18 October 2026, raising funds for Phyllis Tuckwell in memory of Dad/Grandad. If you’d like to support us, I’d be incredibly grateful for any donation, however big or small – you can read more about our challenge to run The Great South Run in my blog post here: This One’s For Dad…
Thank you. 😘
#MyWorld 