Webb, Michael

Eulogy

Date of Death: 01/04/2025

The Eulogy as presented at his funeral by Mike's children (Tori, Jut and Matt).

JUT - Good afternoon everyone and thank you for being here today. It means a great deal to us as a family. We’re here to celebrate the life of a wonderful man—our dad, Michael Frederick Douglas Webb.

He was born on 24th March 1946 in Redhill, Surrey, the outcome of what, at the time, was a scandalous relationship between Freddie, an RAF fighter pilot, and Phyllis, a WAAF driver from Northern Ireland. Their beginning may have been unconventional, but together they built a home, and soon Dad became a big brother to Keith. The family lived in a damp, cramped basement flat that lacked comfort but never love.

When Dad was just three, tragedy struck. Freddie died in a car crash. That early loss shaped Dad, instilling in him a fierce resilience and independence that would stay with him all his life. He was raised by Phyllis, supported by generous neighbours, kind teachers, and the RAF Benevolent Fund.

From the start, Dad was a character. He was clever, energetic, and full of mischief—a boy who saw rules more as guidelines. At Ottershaw boarding school, his antics became legendary amongst his peers. Midnight pub runs, homemade wine, joyriding a dumper truck—allegedly. Eventually, he was “invited to leave early,” but not before securing an RAF Flying Scholarship—earning his pilot’s licence before he could even drive a car.

That was Dad in a nutshell: bold, unconventional, and always positive.

On 22nd May 1964, Dad joined the RAF. After training, he flew Piston Provosts in Oman during the Dhofar War. After that experience, no wonder he was so calm under pressure and utterly unflappable.

He returned to the UK as one of the RAF’s most experienced propeller pilots, but his sights were always set higher, and he became a fast jet pilot, flying Phantoms—the very top tier of RAF pilots. His postings took him across the globe, including a secondment to the Luftwaffe after completing a crash course in German.

It was in Woodhall Spa that Dad met Mum. They quickly married, raising three children—Matt, myself, and Tori—all moving with every new RAF posting. Family life was chaotic, loving, and grounded by a father who always made it all seem possible.

But in 1985, Mum passed away after a battle with breast cancer. Dad was left the sole parent of three young children. Where others might have faltered, Dad rolled up his sleeves and carried on—cooking macaroni cheese in industrial quantities and flying a desk at RAF High Wycombe so he could be there for us as much as possible. He was the only dad on school trips, even if he did once walk into a lamppost while offering a mint to one of Tori’s friends. He laughed it off, of course—he always did.

In 1990, on his 44th birthday, Dad left the RAF. He joined British Airways for a decade, and then EasyJet, flying short-haul so he could stay relatively close to home. In March 2011, we all had the privilege of him flying us home on his last ever flight, from Geneva to Gatwick. His love of aviation continued as he became a Flight Training Instructor and then a Type Rating Examiner until he retired.

He also loved sport. As a young man: rugby, swimming, gymnastics. As a dad: water-skiing, jet-skiing, and snow skiing, as well as squash and cycling. And he passed it all on to us. We were incredibly lucky that when we were younger, Dad bought a timeshare in a beautiful village in Austria. Every Christmas and New Year, we packed ourselves into a Volvo with a trailer and drove there—we had 15 years of snow, silliness, and togetherness. It was incredibly special. He skied well into his later life—mainly with his shoulders…

TORI -  In 1990 Dad bought a caravan overlooking Poole Harbour, that conveniently also had a yard for his boat. To say Poole became our happy place is an understatement. We would spend most weekends and school holidays there. I vividly remember so many fancy dress parties, BBQs, proms, gigs, boat trips and tennis games over all the years. As a teenager, I always thought I was the one building the friendships that would last me a lifetime, but never appreciated that Dad was doing the same too. He loved Poole and the Rockley Park crew.

And ultimately Poole led him to meet Ruth at a New Year’s Eve party in 2004. They soon became a couple, sharing a love of travel, music, theatre and sport, but most importantly, the same sense of humour.

Dad once asked Ruth if she’s like to go and see a cricket match. Ruth had visions of a dull, drizzly afternoon at Lords but when Dad said “I thought we’d go to Antigua and watch England v The West Indies” Ruth became a huge cricket fan, and more trips to the Caribbean followed, with them enjoying a love of Reggae music too. Their 2014 wedding had a Caribbean theme.

Ruth will cherish so many wonderful memories of Dad, including summers spent with family and friends in Poole, sometimes out on the harbour on the boat.

In Ruth’s words, he was an extraordinary man, who was incredibly brave and fearless, once risking his own life to save hers. He was such great fun, and so enthusiastic and meticulous about everything he did.

She recalls he once told her that when he was training to be a pilot in the RAF an Officer said “If Webb were a dog, he’d be permanently wagging his tail”. This statement was so very true of him. Even his blood type was B Positive.

Dad became a Grandad later in life, where his generosity then knew no bounds. He taught Billy maths over Zoom during lockdowns and Webb Christmases were overloaded with presents for the grandkids. He took time to share his knowledges and passions. Dad had visited us in Devon one weekend and had been chatting to our son Elijah about flying, the next day I remember picking up Elijah from nursery when his key worker explained that he’d taught her a new word that day which was contrails, so for us, whenever we see those contrails in the sky we think of Dad.

He had quirks. Banana skins left in his car – I believe there’s a photo somewhere as evidence of where he had also sat on one. Half-eaten packs of Extra Strong Mints left like clues. Cold coffee. Warm beer. His ability to sleep anywhere.

He believed in doing things well, so much so that he learn and delivered his speech at Matt and V’s wedding in Slovak without ever having spoken a word before, just because it mattered and was the right thing to do.

He was incredibly generous and helped each of us get onto the property ladder. He showed us all how to be independent—but we were never alone.

Dad believed he never worked a day in his life because he loved what he did. However, we know he worked incredibly hard but loved every minute he flew.

We were incredibly lucky to have him. Strong, generous, stubborn in the best way. Brave, brilliant, and so full of life.

He gave us all so much and we will miss him immensely.