Andrew Moore, 07.09.2026, Eulogy
We are all here today to rejoice, celebrate, and remember our part in the magnificent life of Andrew. Cherished husband of Joan for 68 years, father, grandfather, uncle, cousin, friend, and colleague whose life and work were defined to the last by his enduring faith and joy. We give thanks for the example he gave us and the legacy we’ve inherited from him.
Bought up in Leigh-on-Sea, a keen Sea Scout with his brother Neil, his passion for boats and sailing was ever present. When asked what gift he’d like for a birthday, the stock response was always “A boat, I have everything else”. When windsurfing first became popular, he bought one, along with two wetsuits to accommodate the kids, and we all had lessons in a Basildon gravel pit. His wish was granted later with a small boat, “Bandito”, which he sailed with Joan in Menorca for many sunny summers.
Andrew first worked in insurance on a broker’s box at Lloyds of London. As a keen ballroom dancer, he met Joan at the Royal Empire Society in London, where, in amongst their duties on the social committee, they fell in love. They married after his stint square bashing at RAF Calne, Wiltshire, and soon family life took over with four rambunctious daughters - Bridget, Patricia, Rosemary and Isabelle.
In spite of the demands on his time, his passion for photography and sculpture never dwindled but merely took a back seat. His creativity was evident in many things, including the papier-mâché soaking in the upstairs bath ‘for months’, from which he made a life-size rocking horse, complete with mane and tail from the knacker’s yard. The on-demand, custom birthday cakes that appeared four times a year, such as a galleon, a bumble bee, a vintage car, and even the Warley Brentwood Infant’s School crafted in sugar and sponge. These took centre stage at the children’s birthday parties, along with the games and high jinks which he planned and directed. Alongside festive food and the ubiquitous cucumber crocodile, with its slivered almond teeth and glacé cherry eyes, whose back was arrayed with cheese cubes, speared with cocktail sticks - our parties were the toast of the town.
He designed and made wonderful props in the attic on Avenue Road for seasonal celebrations at the Brentwood Methodist Church and helped the kids make costumes for participation in the annual Brentwood Carnival Parade.
Andrew’s commitment to service meant that he was never afraid to tackle tough projects. With his staunch ally Joan, they became founding members of the Brentwood Housing Trust in the mid 1960’s’s, tackling homelessness head-on in their local community and leaving a legacy of 150 rental homes. The Trust is still active today in and around the Brentwood area. Andrew helped set up the Lloyds Christian Union, also designing and producing a tie that signified membership. He ran weekly lunchtime meetings in the city, welcoming all.
After leaving Lloyds, he became self-employed and ran a recruitment agency for reinsurance personnel. He was always in service, assisting a myriad of people who came through his office door seeking guidance, a job, solace, or support. His well-earned moniker at home was Marjory Proops, after the newspaper agony aunt. He sometimes invited disconsolate folk back to our home for supper with the family, an experience probably so ear-splitting and disconcerting that their woes were instantly forgotten. At their church in South Street Greenwich, he volunteered to help dig up the pavement; his enthusiasm and good humour were boundless, so much so he accidentally punctured a gas main pipe.
In retirement, both Joan and Andrew went on many overseas adventures, including a glorious six-week trip cycling from their flat in Shooters Hill along the pilgrim’s path to Santiago de Compostela. Never happier than sailing under clear, sunny skies with a favourable wind, Andrew’s legacy of a life well lived with the family and friends he adored will be cherished forever.