Dave Webb aka Webby to lots of us, would have been highly amused by some of the more flowery tributes being paid, after his sudden demise a few days ago. He was 87 when he passed and I can almost hear him now saying, "that was quite a good innings." Although I look back fondly on him as a generous, kind and funny man, my word he was capable of giving someone he did not care for a right tongue lashing if they displeased him. Which is only to be expected if you have lived such a long and eventful life as Dave had.
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| Webby at Nuneaton Folk Club circa 2014 |
He considered professional footballers to be pansies (for example) and those who played Rugby (Union Code of course), to be proper, decent human beings. Latterly he became a Wasps fan and I used to tease him about that mercilessly. That was because I preferred to follow the fortunes of "Cov" the City's original Rugby Club. Once they had left Coundon Road, Dave's opinion of "them" plummeted. I had only played a bit of Rugby myself and that only at school (where as soon as I was allowed to, I switched codes). Nonetheless, Dave forgave me and a working knowledge of the game and the fact that I had been sent off in my first competitive fixture after about five minutes meant that he would allow me to express an opinion on it at least. We rarely discussed Association Football. Dave's views on that and on Banjos or Bagpipes, British Railway's Britannia Pacifics and using the right condiments with the right meal. are unprintable.
He did enjoy a pint, but unlike some of his generation, he did not always stick to one old fashioned brand. Like me he was not averse to sampling lighter or bolder ales from Independent local breweries like Byatts and Purity. He was always a moderate drinker, although I suspect there was once a time when he could have seen off quite a few of us. He was generous in round buying-he liked to pay his way-and more.
There were rarely any splinters in Webby's backside. He was not a man to sit on the fence. I think that is one reason why The blokes in The Nuneaton & District Elderly Gentleman's Beer Drinking Society (Folk Club Branch) AND The Hawkesbury Trawlermen liked him. We might not have always agreed with every opinion he aired, loudly and vociferously but in a way, we admired him for expressing them. Below we have an early photo of some of the NADEGBDS sporting their corporate On Tour shirts in the days when we all used to meet up at The Felix Holt in Nuneaton. Dave is on the right at the end of the table. He had more hair than all of us!
Although there was nearly a fifteen year age gap between us, Webby and I grew up in streets that were virtually next door to each other. I lived in Northfield Road and he in Humber Avenue. In Lower Stoke, an unforgiving and "lively" industrial inner suburb of Coventry. Surrounded by the hum of factories and the thunder of steam hammers up at Bretts? Stamping Works. At night we could drop off still hearing the hoot of steam whistles and the clanging of coal wagons being shunted up the road at Gosford Green Goods Depot. I daresay we had both played on Gosford Green, explored the forbidden banks of the River Sherbourne or London Road Cemetery and trespassed in the grounds of The Charterhouse.
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| A foggy day in the yards at the top of Humber Avenue |
This meant that when conversation flagged on other topics we could always find common ground on sharing anecdotes about railways, Coventry's History, Motor cars motorbikes and buses , Folk Music, (Rod Felton in particular) and the Brandon Bees-Coventry's (sadly) extinct Speedway Team. I believe also that he had been at one time involved in Cycle Speedway. I had watched it occasionally and I owned a "tracker bike" at one time. It had no brakes or gears and heavy tread tyres. I found it terrifying but I can just imagine a younger Webby hurtling around a circuit on one as the tapes went up.
Webby had an encyclopaedic knowledge of topics like The Bees. He read deeply on anything that interested him and sometimes we would trade transport books or diecast models. I would sometimes bump into him at Collector's Fairs or market stalls. Ferreting through the bargain boxes. He searching for transport ephemera or I hunting for model railway treasures. He was a Miner, a cook, a folk singer and a raconteur . He had travelled abroad and had experienced life in the Armed Forces. This meant that he had a huge back catalogue of stories and tales. I told him several times he needed to write all this down . You could not say of Dave Webb after his passing, that he had not done anything with his life.
Dave just seems to have always been there. Often quietly and patiently as an audience member or awaiting his turn to perform. Now he isn't going to be there, I am struggling with it a little, to be honest. We used to rib him about serving in The Crimea or being at Rorke's Drift and he took it all in great spirit. I won't be listening to his cleverly presented monologues on stage any more or being suddenly surprised by him altering a Set List whilst we were singing or amending a shanty solo by singing an alternate verse which some of us we were not entirely familiar with. I confess, I'm really sad about that. I only hope that when he gets up to The Pearly Gates, they are ready for him. If they are not, then he won't hold back in giving them a proper good telling off.
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| Dave's last public performance. 6th in line, head back and giving it his all. |
