Welcome  to you  here for this sad day, and to you  watching online. It is an event filled with so many good memories of my big brother , who I knew for the whole of my life.
    We were each other’s  Best Man, (although 35 years apart) and I considered him just that—The BEST Man--   -- and a brother to be of whom to be proud.

As Andy’s brother, I think of the many times of how we shared so much and how he touched my life in memorable ways:
    He taught me chess, bridge, solo whist, backgammon and guitar, as well as always helping with my maths and physics homework.  We shared making homemade fireworks, brewing homemade beetroot wine (yuk!).
It was Terrible !, but Andy did keep up a 60 year love of Beetroot!
    Together we visited numerous ocean liners in the London Docks, as well as travelling across Europe, on what for those days were exotic family holidays. 
    At school he was 3 years ahead of me so when he became a prefect, he would walk to school 20 yards in front of me - so he wasn’t obliged to give me detention for me refusing to wear the school cap. He never did give me detention although I often deserved it!
He was deputy head boy, Captain of athletics, actor in school plays--- and a top scholar.
    He met Margaret at the school dance. For their wedding. As Best Man, I goofed badly. Andy turned-up to the big day in his old crumpled suit, not the brand-new made-to-measure number! But then as we know, fashion was never his thing!    
     At University he formed a rock band called SOUL REMAINS, playing Hendrix and Clapton on his lead guitar. It was good rock and soul music, and he was generous to invite this 6th-former to visit him on the Campus at Exeter to attend my first real ‘gig’.
  His love of music continued throughout his life , moving-on to the  Chicago blues clubs scene.  
    In his early years, Andy was shy of answering the phone and always got me to pick-up the home phone.
Ironically several years later, as a trainee-pilot, he was commended for his radio communications.
   Years later after a BA course on customer satisfaction, he became one of those “chatty” Captains from the flight deck—(when we the passengers-- were trying to get some sleep !).
    At BOAC and BA he had a sterling career as pilot of a variety of iconic planes like the VC10, Tristar, BAC111 and ultimately as Captain of the 747 Jumbo.
    Family members, including Margaret of course, flew with Andy many times, but we were not the most illustrious of visitors to his cockpit.  Memorably, he  hosted members of a ‘60’s  Motown group the Shirelles, and a famous lyricist and entertainer Sir Richard Stilgoe. By way of thanks, Sir  Richard gave Andy two anagram versions of his name ;
Andy Wilson became SNOWY LINDA.      (pause)
Andrew Wilson became ROWLAND SWINE.   
This kind of humour was treasured by Andy.

Andy was very reassuring to nervous flyers. Claire often has asked me as we experienced some turbulence on a flight; “ What would Andy being doing now? ”  
 I replied;           “The telegraph Crossword”.
   I knew that all was calm and efficient on the flight -deck after I had so many flights with Captain Wilson at the controls .

   Andy was a generous man throughout his life, and I recall how he and Margaret gave up time for all his family, but also many friends too.
   I have never forgotten the incredible time, care and support they both gave to Mum and Dad here in Salisbury over a period of 10 years. 

  I have seen and admired Andy’s fortitude, bravery  as well as good grace and humour as he went through these last few difficult years of his illness .
We all admire him immensely for this. And salute the love and great care Margaret gave him for almost 60 years.

I would  like to remember  and pay tribute to Andy as a pilot.
So we share this poem which he first heard at a pilot’s funeral, and said he would like read at his own;
 “Flying West” by Captain Larkin

 I hope there’s a place , way up in the sky,
Where pilots go when they have to die.
A place where a guy can buy a cold beer
 For a friend and comrade whose memory is dear
A quaint little place kinda dark, full of smoke
Where the music is loud and they love a good joke.
There must be a place where old pilots go
When their paining finished and their airspeed gets low.
Where you’d see all the fellows who’d flown west before
And they’d call out your name as you came through the door.
Who would buy you a drink if your thirst should be bad
And relate to the others “he was quite a good lad”.
For this is the place where true flyers come
When the journey is over and the last trip is done.
Relax with a cool one ,  and a well deserved rest -
THIS IS HEAVEN MY SON,
YOUV’E PASSED YOUR LAST TEST.

Recalling that SOUL REMAINS was the name of Andy’s pop band from his days at Exeter. I believe  that;“ HIS soul remains with Margaret, our families and all his friends ”.                    
Few hearts like his, with virtue warmed,
Few heads with knowledge so informed;
If there’s another world, he lives in bliss;
If there is none, he made the best of this.

From Roger with love xx