ANDREW GEOFFREY LIONEL PEARCE 1953-2020

MUSIC: Queen - “The show must go on”

WELCOME: The cocktail of emotions around when people are grieving is hard enough – but with a world pandemic added to the mix, it is hard indeed for those who have lost a vital character from their story. But, as the song just reminded us – the show must go on.
Andrew loved you and he would want you to keep going. You see the story isn’t over just because he’s gone into another story.
We now know that all life began in a burst of stardust billions of years ago and that at the end of our life, the carbon that formed us returns to the stars when we lay it down. What a story to be part of!
And if our lives are stories that are rooted in that bigger story, then everyone here is a character in other people’s stories. We all leave footprints in other people’s lives. Andrew is the character who, being in all our stories, links us today. Like us, he drew threads of romance, drama, tragedy, comedy and the usual adventures of life into the tapestry of his story. I’m going to tease out some of those threads as we remember Andrew with love, authenticity and humour – but will do so aware that each of you knows this tale better than I do – because this is your story too.
You’re not here today because Andrew has died – you’re here because he lived and while he lived he was a part of your story. We begin by honouring his deeply held religious beliefs with a version of Psalm 23 – which you may know as The Lord’s my Shepherd.
M/C CITY Cup Winner’s 23rd Psalm © Rev. David Gray 2012
Roberto Mancini, Malcolm Allison and Pep Guardiola were among my shepherds – what more could I want? They inspired me to cheer the boys in blue, as to great victory they led me through our team so good and true. When life seemed glum, they restored my pride in the finest ever football side. By paths of glory I’ve long trod, by heck, I’m such a lucky sod! Now that I face deaths dark vale, I will fear no ill; for the team I’ve loved since being a lad will walk beside me still. City fans and loved ones I have known await along this path to share some happy memories and enjoy a friendly laugh. Now heavens skies are blue and white, as everybody knows, while the Etihad Stadium trophy room with cups does overflow. A blue in life and still a blue as heaven’s gates draw near; all those who loved me in this life – I’ll be waiting for you there.

EULOGY: The story I’m about to relate began one Sunday in 1953 – July 5th, as a matter of fact - the day that Anne Pearce presented her husband Geoff with a son – who they named Andrew. The lad was pleased when he arrived to learn he had big sisters called Shelagh and Christine.

“He was a happy baby”, Christine, who was nine and a half when Andrew was born, recalls. “Mind you, I was happy to have a little brother. It was so comforting to be there for his first chuckle and to watch him take his first steps. I’d take him out in his pram as proud as punch. Though folk today might wonder at a ten year old pushing a pram, it was par for the course in those days”.

About a month before Andrew’s birth, his father Geoff had suffered an industrial accident. His right hand had been crushed and for the first few years of Andrew’s life, Geoff was in and out of hospital having his hand rebuilt. The lengths new Dad’s would go to in those days not to have to change a terry towelling nappy!
Andy spent a lot of time with his Dad and the pair were very close. Geoff was a huge influence in his life. Andy followed in his footsteps, becoming a practical tradesman throughout his own working life.

Having lived at 19 Drake St, Chorlton on Medlock – in 1956, the family moved to 30 Yew Tree Road, Rusholme, where his parents had bought a hardware and ironmongery shop. Now, that shop was next door to Maine Road – home of Manchester City Football Club. Soon, Andy, himself a keen footballer, was an avid City supporter.
He was nine when his big sister Christine bought him his first full Manchester City kit, Andy was over the blue moon. With his friends, Andy attended many matches. In those days, the gates would be opened at three quarter time to allow the local kids to catch the tail end of the match. In those days, football really was the sport of working people.

A pupil at Wilbraham Road Junior School, Andy went on to become a student at Ducie Tech. He made many friends at both schools.
Among the many mates knocking on to see if Andy was playing out was one lad who, to Mum Anne’s horror, would ask for “Pixie Pearce”. It worried Anne that Andy was such a short arse – but she needn’t have worried. The year his big sister Shelagh was married, 1968, Andy shot up six inches. All Anne had to worry about then was having to keep buying him new trousers.

Andy was thirteen when Christine got married. She and husband Maurice were fresh back from their honeymoon when there was a knock on the door – and there stood Andy, the first visitor to their new flat, holding out a bunch of flowers.

Holy Trinity Platt has a company of Church Lads, Church Girls Brigade. Andrew became a member and during his time there did his Duke of Edinburgh Award up to Gold. His Mum Anne was pleased as punch when she escorted him to Buckingham Palace to receive his award.

1969 saw Andrew undertaking his apprenticeship with British Telecom. He completed training to become a Telecommunications Engineer – which in those days meant he also had to do TV licence checks too.
One day, the boss tagged along when Andrew was checking on a woman who seemingly didn’t have a license. She was clearly down on her luck. Couple of kids and struggling. To boot, the TV didn’t actually work.
When his boss suggested Andy prove the TV was working and the woman needed to pay her license fee, Andy fiddled with the set for ages before declaring:
“The sets gone, boss. No way is anyone watching anything on that!”
As they made their exit, Andy leaned close and whispered to the woman:
“Wait ‘til we’ve gone and plug it back in. The TV works fine!”
Andy made many friends at BT. They were for ever playing pranks on the unsuspecting public outside the office, including nailing coins to the pavement and watching the unsuspecting public try to pick them up. They also made some very inappropriate Christmas decorations to display in the office window - which got them in some trouble.

In March 1975 aged twenty one, Andy married Barbara Draper at Levenshulme Methodist Church, but, unlike that TV set, it wasn’t working and they went their separate ways.
Soon afterwards, Andy and Carol got together and he was delighted to gain a stepdaughter: Clare. Then in 1983, the family moved into a project of a home that required a lot of attention. Andy did most of the work himself – but a couple of things got in the way – didn’t you Michelle and Stephen? Yes, the love between Andy and Carol bore fruit in two wonderful children. He was obviously doing a bit more than DIY with his hands.
Of course, Andy and Carol were used to walking up the aisle together when they went shopping at their local supermarket, but it was 1986 that they walked up the aisle to be married. There followed a move to Richmond Hill in Cheadle; then to Elmsleigh Road in Heald Green, where over many years the family laid down many very happy memories. They had great neighbours in Alberto, Christine and their children – who frequently invited Andy and the gang up to their restaurant at Hollingworth Lake.

Perhaps he had experienced more bosses like that miserable git who wanted to fleece a poor mother for her TV licence, because Andy decided to give up the rat race and go self-employed so he could work according to his own ethical principles. He set up as a landscape gardener, a career he thoroughly enjoyed for many years until forced to retire on health grounds.
When he and Carol went their separate ways in 1996, Andy stayed on at the Elmsleigh Road house with his son Steve and as Steve got older, inevitably the pair spent more social time together.

“My friends became Dad’s friends”, Steve told me. “He was like a second Dad to many here today”.

The years at Elmsleigh were not without their troubles, but one thing was clear: Andy loved his children very much.
Andy rediscovered his youth during this time. Most weekends he could be found in Wilmslow at the French Bras bar or Brazingerman’s in Alderley Edge. Later, he’d be over at Wilmslow rugby club, where he really found his second home. He had great fun and made some great friends.

In time, Andy and Carol were reconciled and remained friends to the last. Then, when Michelle moved back to Manchester a few years ago, she and Andy spent a lot of time in each other’s company. Indeed, Andy was delighted to have his son and daughter alongside at every beer festival that South Manchester could offer, along with their many friends. Among those friends was Jim – Michelle’s partner and Andy’s mate. Andy was ever ready to make sure Jim had given the job in hand ‘a good coat of looking at’ and there to instruct the boys how things should be done.

By now, Andy was living in his static caravan in Lymm.
Now Lymm was a place very special place to Andy and he was probably happiest here of all the places he’d set up stall. He loved the peace and quiet of the farm and the views across the countryside.
But the idyll was disturbed by a very loud – “F**K!” – one day when Andy, Steve and Jim were working on building Andy’s campervan.
It seems there had been a slight mishap with the table saw, resulting in Andy missing a large chunk of finger. While Steve panicked, insisting they immediately get to hospital, Andy was insistent they put the kettle on and have a brew before they went anywhere.

His mate Bruce says of “Peter Pan” Andy:
“We met Andy watching my brother play Rugby for Wilmslow first team and soon became friends”.
“We frequented the French Bras on a regular basis – but only on those days that have a D A or Y in them. It wasn’t long before we agreed to go on a ski-ing trip to Zermatt with seasoned skiers from the Rugby Club. Andy and I thought we’d go for the après ski believing this was something we’d be good at – which we certainly were. After a skinful we fancied ourselves as Franz Klammer and promptly booked a block of ski-ing lessons over 3 days”.
“Day 1. The ski instructor got very worried when Andy suggested we break for coffee. “No!” Said the instructor. “I give you two hours of lessons! My boss is watching! I’ll be in trouble if I stop.” “Bollocks” said Andy “We pay your wages and we’ll throw in a free coffee for you.”
Day 2. After consuming even more drinks the night before confidence is at an all-time high. The next Winter Olympics isn’t an unrealistic target. Well Andy was soon bought down to earth – or I should say Andy soon bought a young girl down to earth, ploughing through her as he tried to stop – something she thought she’d already done. It was like a freight train hitting a pushbike. Ouch!”
“Day 3. Instructor “You guys are so good now you can go on the chair lift and then ski down that big enormous massive scary slope.”
“To which Andy quips: “No you’re alright we prefer to carry on skiing in the practice area, old chap J”
Bruce promises to tell you all what Andy actually said in the bar afterwards if you buy him a pint of Southern Comfort.
“Andy, myself and Zermatt remained intact after our visit”, Bruce continues. One night back in the French Bras Andy said to Alex “I bet you can’t pick me up.” Andy was actually directing that question to an attractive young lady he was talking to”.
Regardless, Alex literally picked him up, realised he was heavier than he thought and dropped him on the pavement.
“You’re right. I can’t pick you up.” Said Alex. Thankfully Andy got up and was still able to go to the bar. Andy is to blame for me being in the French Bras when I first set my eyes on my now wife. There was a band playing and they were so poor the dance floor was empty, bar these four girls. We both assumed they must either have no musical taste or be the girlfriends of the 4 male band members. My now wife was one of those girls. The following Saturday Andy and I were out in the Slug and Lettuce. Nope! We were still in the French Bras. Well my now wife was there and clearly we hit it off. I am forever grateful to Andy as if it wasn’t for him we’d never have met. I think Sarah feels grateful as well. She’s never really said”.

Now it has to be said that there are many stories over Andy’s life involving many of his family and muckers, but as Steve wisely told me when he phoned in the week: “You’ll never get them all in a twenty minute slot – but we will pick up the telling whenever we who knew my Dad meet and the tales will flow as freely as the ale!”
However, there is one story that needs telling
It’s one I’m obliged to tell on Andy’s behalf to any of his mates who were Manchester United supporters. Knowing the important part football banter played in your relationship with Andy, he wanted me to ensure that you knew that you had not got the last word – so if the reds will please stand …
A Manchester United fan having died is making his way towards heaven wearing his team’s latest top. As he strolls along, it occurs to him that the sky is very blue and white.
Peering into the distance, he spots the heavenly city looming and just outside the gates he spots a familiar figure.
“Good grief”, he murmurs, “that’s Mother Teresa. She always wore blue and white when she was alive, but a Yaya Touré top?”
Intrigued, he moves closer still and realised that St. Peter, Mahatma Gandhi, Haile Selassie and Gautama Buddha are all playing dominoes just inside the pearly gates. They are all wearing Manchester City shirts. Behind them the red now realises that all the saints and angels in heaven are wearing Manchester City shirts. As he gets closer, St. Peter arises and steps in front of him.
“Where you going, son?”  The saint asks.
“Well, I was thinking of going into heaven”, the red responds.
“You have to be good to come in here”, Gandhi smiles.
“I’m not a bad bloke”, responds the red, “this week alone I’ve donated thirty five quid to charity”.
“What shall we do?” Asks St. Peter.
“Ask Jesus”, Buddha says sagely.
The red is invited to wait while Jesus is consulted. Suddenly, a heavenly choir begins to sing … “Blue Moon …”
In due course, Jesus appears and says to the United fan:
“Hello. We’ve had a word with my Father. Here’s your thirty five quid, now go to hell you red devil!”

In 2012, Andy was over the Blue Moon when his first grandchild Sophie was born. He was also delighted to gain two step grandchildren that year in David and Diogo, from whom he received his new name: ‘Pops’, which he has been fondly called ever since.
There followed some very happy years. Then along came 2019 when he was diagnosed with Leukaemia in January and told he had mere months to live. Andy moved to Lapwing Lane, Didsbury. Things looked glum.
But then a little miracle occurred: his second granddaughter Ella was born and Andy set his sails on a year of adventure.
“I’m going nowhere!” He declared. Right, let’s get this year’s bucket list underway”.
O the memories that were made that year! There were, much to Andy’s disapproval, photographs of all sorts of adventures and strange antics: holidays with his kids; his grandkids to Centre parks; Ale Trails; Steam trains; the holiday park at Thornwick Bay; Mad escapades with mates.
There was the Fireworks Festival at Arely Hall; racing at Oulton Park and a lifelong ambition achieved when he spent a long weekend at Goodwood festival of speed – followed by a further full weekend at the Formula 1 at Silverstone. There was the time spent at the holiday park near Caernarfon and Andy even made it to the top of Snowden – on a train! All this was peppered with many drinking sessions and meals out.
“Andy attended every beer festival we could get to”, Michelle told me. “He was delighted to still be with us to attend his friend Daz’ wedding”.
The soundtrack of those adventures was laughter.
So much more had been planned for 2020 – for Andy had no intention of giving up. He pestered the boys continuously until they got his beloved camper van running again and began planning a trip to Le Mans 24 hour race in France.
“But then along came Covid…….
“We only got as far as Glasson Dock!

We celebrated his 67th Birthday, which Dad enjoyed enormously. Drinks, food and good times with family and friends were what mattered to him.

We’ll miss him zooming round on his scooter saying ‘beam me up scotty’ every 2 minutes; his cheeky sense of humour; his frankness bossing us around and his backseat driving – all the while with his sheer determination; his strength and resilience and refusal to give up until the very end were a real tonic”.

Michelle invited people to offer three words that came to mind when they thought of Andy. Here are some of the responses:
Manchester United Supporter
Frank Cheeky Honest
Unique Laughter Banter
C**t Bastard Flower
Chocolate Sweets Lollipops
You Daft C**t!
JD City Awkward
Honest Accepting A Laugh

Having been taken to hospital on the evening of Wednesday August 19th, Andy died there on the morning of Thursday 20th August.
He had kept his dignity to the end, but had decided he had had enough, having fought illness for a long time.
Andy had cancer for a couple of years complicated by other ailments. He had managed to go for a beer with his mates Daz and Bruce on the Friday - so he did well. The first day he was not able to drive was the Tuesday of that week. He was a trooper who went out on his own terms.

There are many more memories – Daz recalls the golden rule when drinking in the French Bras – “No shorts before midnight”.

Andy had a great relationship with his grandchildren, especially Sophie. When he lived with Steve for a few months following his first heart attack, Andy and Sophie became thick as thieves. It might have helped that Sophie’s love of sweets is only surpassed by that of her Pop’s …

COMMITTAL : Andy, if we’re honest we’re not sure what comes next – only that something does. Science says that all life began in a burst of stardust billions of years ago and that when we lay it down, the carbon in our body’s returns to the stars from which we borrowed it. Faith points to a place beyond the stars where loved ones meet again. We entrust you to this mystery now …
Go with our love of who you were.

Go with our gratitude for the life you lived.

Go knowing we’ll never forget you.

Go in awareness that traces of you remain in the DNA of some still here – and will re-emerge in others who are yet to be born.

Go with our good wishes for all that is yet to be …
My three words: Go Well Andy.

BLESSING: The Bard was right when he wrote that: “there are more things in heaven and earth than are dreamed of in our philosophies”. Whenever folk who knew Andy get together, his name will be spoken and his spirit will be present.
Go in peace to love and support one another. 

MUSIC: Frank Sinatra – “My way”