For those who don’t know me, my name is Lilika and I am Lou Bedocs’ eldest granddaughter. 
 
I would like to thank everyone for being here today to pay their respects to my Gramps, and he would be pleased to see so many of his friends and family here today. I’d like to share some of my memories of Gramps, and what he meant to us grandchildren. 
 
I loved visiting my Gramps. The weeks we would spend at Granny and Gramps in the summer with the cousins every year were my favourite, and I think he looked forward to them as much as we did. We went on the best days out: Hikes in Hamsterley forest; visiting different cities like Durham or Newcastle; playing games in what we called ‘South Park’; going to South Shields. 
 
One of my favourite memories with my Gramps was when we would go to the beach at Saltburn. He would always suggest the beach and say to Granny ‘Oh I think the kids said something about going to the seaside today’ and we all knew that that hadn’t been said in the slightest and it was his preference, but we all secretly wanted to go as well. 
 
There was one time when we were at least up to our waists in the sea and nobody else was out as far as us. I’d always been told that when he first went in the sea in England, he swallowed some of the water and ran out screaming ‘salt, salt!’ because he’d never experienced it before, and from that day forward, he loved the sea. And he taught me how to properly skull and do a starfish as we chilled for ages; Granny frantically waving in the background because she was convinced we were drifting towards the pier. That was my Gramps- diving into everything; being a big kid with us all and getting as excited about everything as we were.
 
I mean, don’t get me wrong, I remember when us cousins would be hyper some nights and ‘Scary Gramps’ would sit in the green chair in the corner to stop us messing around and we’d secretly, but not so secretly, be trying to stifle our giggling. But Gramps was the type to always get stuck in and be down for a laugh. Whether that be pulling faces at the dining table if Granny outsmarted him (and us chiming ‘Naughty Lou’), to him kicking a football around with us or visiting what we fondly called ‘Gramp’s park’. Tom was always the impressive one with football but Gramps could definitely hold his own.
 
He spoiled us rotten during those summers. In the mornings, we’d walk to the corner shop and he’d treat us secretly to sweets whilst we had the loveliest chats along the way. He’d get the paper and he’d have left all the sudokus free for me to do because he knew they were my favourite. Wherever we went, we’d also end up stopping every 5 steps as he would greet and chat with someone else. And it was never a half-hearted hello either- always a full-blown personalised conversation. When I was younger, I thought my Gramps was apparently famous in the North, because he was so personable and popular.
 
I came to understand why when I was older and I was taken to various village hall events like the jigsaw library and he had made his delicious, unrivalled cakes that everyone obsessed about. And rightly so- I mean, his Victoria sponge was enough to win anyone over!
But no, in all seriousness, people just saw the same kind-hearted nature he’d continuously demonstrated towards us grandchildren. He’d always want us to have the best time. 
 
Gramps would have the tickets ready without fail so we could go to our favourite- the Beamish museum- every year. I have fond memories there- like when we’d go to the Olde Sweet Shop and he’d share around his cinder toffee. Or when nobody would go down the mines with me so he did. Or all of us cousins and Gramps would go to the 1950s school and run laps doing the hoop rolling with the old-fashioned hoop and stick that nobody else could master and people would be looking in awe. And in true Gramps fashion, he’d then offer to help all the kids who couldn’t do it- one after the other and there would slowly form a queue waiting to be taught by Gramps. He was always like that at Beamish- we went so regularly that Gramps would almost know more than the people working there, and always answer people’s questions or give visitors fun facts.
 
But he was always willing to help people in life in general. He never had a superiority complex and was the most humble individual I’ve ever known, despite all his achievements. Gramps treated everyone with respect and one of many lessons I learned from him was that no matter who or how successful you are- and he was the epitome of success in my eyes- you always make time for people. You can lift people up while still going far in life yourself.
I’ve always been proud of my Gramps. When people have asked the cliché question at school or in conversation as to who my role model is, Gramps has always been my answer. 
 
Every one of my friends knows who my Gramps was because I was always proud of his story and my Hungarian roots. They were amazed when in secondary school in IT class, I googled his name and there were a fair few of his articles and pictures of him. You don’t go from being a 14 year old refugee in England after guiding people across the border after the Hungarian uprising- knowing no English and only owning the pair of wellies on your feet- to becoming one of the main experts in the lighting industry and receiving acknowledgements from the Queen and many accolades, without having a phenomenal work ethic. Gramps possessed dedication, resilience and wisdom in abundance. 
 
But despite his success, Gramps was always a family man. Always cared and spoiled us grandchildren. He strived to give his children- Dan and Liz- the best life. And Granny and Gramps’ marriage was an example to us all: they would tease each other in front of us grandkids, but fundamentally couldn’t do enough for one another and worshipped the ground the other walked on. I mean, I understand why she loved being in his company; I’d always get emotional when I had to leave theirs and he’d kiss us goodbye with his tickly moustache. 
 
Gramps was a great friend to me and I love him very much. I respected him greatly and cherished all the time we spent together. He was the kindest, most genuine person I had the privilege of knowing. You reap what you sew in this world and it is evidenced by all of you here today just how many people he helped out and made an impression on. He will be missed greatly by my family and I.