Extraordinary LIVES
MY FATHER EDWARD HUMPLEMAN
MY LOVELY dad, who was always known as Ted, had a happy childhood in Mile End, East London. He told us about having his tonsils taken out on the kitchen table, taking his sister to the barber for a short back and sides and forgetting his younger brother and leaving him in his pushchair outside a shop. He left school at 14 and got a job as a runner on a Fleet Street newspaper, but his father insisted he got a ‘proper’ job in a bank. When war broke out, the teenager joined the Army. On his first day he lost his rifle, so he had some explaining to do. He saw action at the Battle of Monte Cassino in 1944, but his abiding memory of the war was falling in love with Italy. He met my mum, Peggy ‘Peg’ Carter, at a dance and they married in 1947. My sister Lesley was born five years later and I followed three years after that. Dad was a career civil servant in
the department of organisation and methods. He was a lifelong Spurs fan and took me to a benefit match for Spurs player Maurice Norman, where we met Geoff Hurst. Dad loved tennis and played for Ashford Club in Middlesex. After he answered an advert for umpires, he found himself officiating at tournaments around the country including Eastbourne, Brighton, Birmingham and Nottingham. But his heart belonged at Wimbledon, where he was involved in a famous incident. He was a line judge when John McEnroe queried a couple of his calls. The third time Dad made a call he disagreed with, McEnroe asked for him to be removed. Much to Dad’s disgust, the officials sided with the player and told him to leave. But he bore no grudge and thought McEnroe was a wonderful player. However, his favourite was Roger Federer, whom he called a true gentleman. As well as tennis, Dad was a great bridge and bowls player, an active member of the Freemasons and a local councillor. He always fibbed about his age. When he retired as a tennis umpire, they thought he was 70, when he was actually 80; and on his 90th birthday he threw any cards with the number 90 in the bin. Dad was so proud of his four grandchildren and seven great-grandchildren. He was a great flirt and everyone loved him. We all miss him so much.