Thomas Albert Gillyon, known as Al, b. 1^st April 1921 d. 1990

Lily took both her boys to dance class and the teacher said to uncle Al “Right lad, lets see what you can do” So he did and the teacher was very impressed. Al went on to be a professional entertainer, this back in the days when they did everything: acting; singing; dancing; comedy. I remember Grandma singing and clapping her hands al lot, so maybe this talent came from her side. During WW2 Uncle Al served with the 2^nd battalion of the East Yorkshire Regiment (as his Uncle William had done in WW1) and as such was among those who were rescued from Dunkirk. In fact the 2^nd battalion of the East Yorkshire Regiment were almost the last to be taken off the beaches. They were also one of the first battalions to land on the beaches in Normandy in 1944, however I don’t know if Al was with them because I believe that later in the war he was with the Middle East infantry.

		Early in his entertaining career he toured the country performing in clubs etc. Dad blamed Uncle Al’s alcoholism on his job, saying that whenever his tour brought him back to Hull all the locals would be very proud to know him and rather than ask him what he wanted to drink they would buy him expensive doubles such as whisky that they really couldn’t afford and say “Here you go Al, here’s your drink”. It would have been rude to refuse the drink. I have a theory that it may be more to do with a little dutch courage or relaxant before stepping out on stage (on the rare occasions I’ve been on stage I know it’s helped my performance!)
“Our big kid”	Uncle Al on the right

I was fascinated by my Uncle Al, I loved dancing and spent my childhood wanting to go to dance class but was never allowed (“no, we can’t afford it”) and here was someone who had made a living at it. As well as having a drink problem he was a heavy smoker and had nicotine yellow finger nails, skin and hair. I remember him as a DJ on radio Humberside, all the old ladies loved him! It’s understandable because he was very well spoken and had a very husky ‘smokers’ voice, excellent for radio! Unfortunately he often used to turn up for work and go air drunk, then he’d get sacked, the old ladies of Humberside would protest and he’d be re-instated. I believe the pattern repeated itself a few times. I remember sitting on the bus and hearing a couple of old dears behind me talking about how much they enjoyed his show. Rather than turn round and tell them he was my uncle I decided to listen in!

During the ‘70’s Uncle Al lived with grandma in Lakeside Grove along with his much younger sister my Aunty Pat who had downs syndrome, and his daughter, Virginia. He also had an older son, Paul, by then married with his own family who lived along way away. When we visited he was often asleep in the chair by the fire. Unfortunately, as I understand it, when Uncle Al got drunk his behaviour became aggressive, Aunty Pat was quite nervous of him. Sometimes dad would get a ‘phone call from 20 Lakeside Grove and dash over there on his own with no explanation. After grandma died of a heart attack in 1977 Uncle Al sold everything in the house and used all the money to buy drink. No bills were paid, the utilities were cut off. After that he and dad had no contact with each other for about six or seven years until the early to mid 1980s.

By this time he had his alcoholism under control and was doing quite a bit of television. He was the station master on Brideshead Revisited, he was in a play called ‘180’ about a pub lock-in and he hosted the Book Tower on one occasion. One particularly memorable turn was as a pig farmer in two episodes from series three of All Creatures Great and Small. One evening while mum and I were watching the programme, dad dashed in from the kitchen where he was washing the pots and looked intently at the telly with a smile on his face, then went back into the kitchen. Mum and I were a bit puzzled. When the credits started rolling he dashed back in to look at the telly again and there was the name Al Gillyon rolling by. He said “I thought it was my brother, I recognised his voice”. By then Al was living in a bungalow in Cottingham with a very nice lady friend. This is where we visited him and I could very proudly tell I’d started tap dancing lessons (I was 18, working and paying for it myself). It’s a blessing that they made friends when they did because my dad died within a year.

During a recent conversation with mum she was enthusing about how funny he was on stage which was interesting but also nice because I’d never heard her say anything complimentary about him before. I think he’s the real reason that I wasn’t allowed to go to dance class.

Teresa Graham

2006

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