I am sharing Dylan's eulogy for those who were unable to attend the funeral service and for those of you who want to know more about Dylan's passion for the natural world and how it shaped his entire life. The eulogy was written by myself and Benno, with help from Dylan's brother's, Tim and Simon.
Normal service will resume shortly, we have now found the moth trap in the shed!
Let me tell you about my dad, whose name was Paul, but nearly everyone, (except his mother), knew him as Dylan, a nickname he was given due to his uncanny likeness to a large hippy rabbit from the TV show The Magic Roundabout.
This nickname caused me a great deal of confusion as a young
child, because I also had a pet rabbit called Dylan. One day we had a phone
call from a man asking to speak to Dylan, and I shouted to my mum, “there’s a
man on the phone, he wants to speak to the rabbit!” Anyway, I digress already.
Dylan was born in London on 4th December 1955 to
proud parents, Peter and Thelma Wrathall, who were both teachers. The eldest of
three boys, it wasn’t too long before Tim and Simon came along and by the
summer of 1960 the trio of brothers was complete.
The family moved from London to Hemel Hempstead before Simon was born, and began their time there in Coles Hill, before moving to Burley Road and then Warners End Road.
The three brothers were quite a force to be reckoned with,
although Simon assures me that he was the “good one,” and Tim proudly assures
me that if Dylan was ever in trouble, Tim would have been at his side, and
probably partly responsible for whatever naughty thing they had done! Quite how
my grandparents managed, I’m not sure! But I do know that they had a lot of support
and friendship from their neighbour, and friend, Gladys and her family, who
always helped with the children when Thelma was called in to teach at school.
From a very young age Dylan had a deep fascination with, and
love of, the natural world. I think that this is where he always felt most at
home and where his soul was most at ease. This early interest would be a thread
that would follow him throughout his entire life. His passion for nature was
contagious, and I have no doubt that everyone in this room will have
experienced something magical in nature with him at some point, either in
person or through his blog.
Dylan attended Westwick primary school and then Halsey
secondary school in Hemel Hempstead, although by the time he reached his early
teens he would have much rather have had a fishing rod in his hand than a pen,
and as he progressed through his school career, the call of the fishing rod
often won that battle for his time. He
wrote in one blog post about pike angling:
“ I was still at school, Halsey SM,
Hemel Hempstead, when I caught my first Pike from the, gin clear, water of
Pixie's Mere, Bourne End. Famed for the Tench it held, I caught my first six
pounder here, whilst revising for my geography "A" level!”
But secondary school wasn’t all bad for Dylan, it was here
that he also met his first wife, Julie, who would later become mine and Ben’s
mum. She claims it was Dylan’s long, permed hair and flared jeans that first
caught her eye, followed by romantic walks along the local canal… where Dylan
would shoot rats with his air rifle! So romantic!
From the moment we could venture outside, dad instilled his
love of nature in me and Ben. Growing up with Dylan as your dad was not your
average childhood, as you can imagine. We spent a lot of time wandering through
woodlands listening to bird calls and looking at butterflies and insects. We
sat by lakes watching to see the ends of the fishing rods flicker, we waited on
the Dunstable Downs at dusk to see the badgers poke their heads out of their
sets and wander off into the darkness, and a whole lot more.
And maybe we will gloss over the time he released an angry sea gull into the tent that a very young Ben was inside.
The 1980’s were also the time when he followed, what he
described himself as an “obsessive pursuit” of fishing. He, along with Simon
and many friends, spent much of their time on the banks of waters such as Tring
Reservoir, Clayden, Maple Durham, Stanborough and Tiddenfoot. There were also
glorious fishing trips to the lochs of Scottland. I’m not sure of all the
details of these trips, but I get the feeling that what happened in Scottland,
stayed in Scottland!
Dylan wanted to catch big fish, and in 1993 he found himself
on a sea fishing trip in Maderia, where he tagged and released Blue Marlin,
which were well in excess of 5 meters long, and 700lb in weight. After that no
freshwater fish could compete!
And so, and with a planned move from Hemel Hempstead to Kent
for his new job at Unilever, Dylan put down his fishing obsession and picked up
his binoculars and birdwatching obsession.
By the late 90’s Dylan’s birding obsession reached a new high
as he set a Kent Year List record, and in 1999 he saw a first for Britain – A
Booted Eagle at St Margaret’s Bay. This caused quite a stir in the birding
community, but it was finally accepted last year!
As the 2000’s began, and the world shifted into a new
millennium, life changed for Dylan and our whole family. Dylan and Julie
divorced, and both met new partners.
Dylan and Bev spent many years happily married in that little
bungalow, and they made so many new friends in Vine Close and beyond. As the
years went by and us children grew up, we went on to have our own children and
Dylan took on a new role as Grandad, or Grandad Eagle as my children called
him.
All five of his grandchildren, Bryn, Emily, Harry, Evelyn and
Rowan will miss their grandad terribly, I’m sure.
Dylan was also a much-loved uncle to Tim and Julie’s two
boys, Luke and Josh, who no doubt experienced the same level of mischievousness
from him!
“I had got into fishing in a big way,
and I wanted dad to join me again, which is why I suggested Scotland. He said
that he needed Bev’s permission, and it was duly granted – she had no idea what
she had done, as this firmly reignited his angling fire and led to us spending
all the spare time we had together, fishing.”
Ben and Dylan went on hundreds of fishing trips, including
many further trips to Scotland with Simon and lots of different friends, as
well as days at many local venues, where I know that they both made many
friends. Dylan was fishing regularly right up to when he became ill, and his
beloved blog, which has had over 1.5 million hits, is full of tales from
various fishing escapades!
Dylan and Bev created a fulfilling life for themselves, and
they went on plenty of holidays with their dear friends. Life was good for a
long time. But in early 2024, Bev was diagnosed with breast cancer, and
although treatment was initially deemed to have been successful in that same
year, by early 2025, it was discovered that the cancer had spread to her bones
and her spine, and she sadly lost her battle with that horrible disease in May
2025.
As you can imagine, Dylan was devastated. He never really
recovered, and shortly after the loss of his dear wife, he too became unwell.
At first, we all thought that the extreme fatigue, loss of appetite and low
mood were symptoms of grief, but as time passed, things did not improve.
After his 70th birthday lunch, where he was very
clearly unwell, we finally managed to get him in front of a doctor, and our
worlds fell apart. After some blood tests in mid-January, Dylan was rushed to hospital
and diagnosed with bowel and liver cancer. You can imagine how well he coped
with that, especially when he found himself on what he called, “the f’ing
chirpy sparrow ward!” He was not a
chirpy sparrow that day.
He managed a few days in hospital before, in true Dylan
style, he eventually discharged himself and went home.
On 4th February, World Cancer Day, with dad’s health
still declining, we took him to a meeting with the consultant, and we were told
that Dylan was too unwell for any treatment and that, at best, he had a couple
of months to live.
In those last weeks of his life Me, Ben, Debbie, Tim and
Simon formed a formidable team, alongside the amazing urgent care nurses, the
GP and a few other medical professionals. We provided around the clock care,
and I don’t really know how we did it. Was it hard? YES! It really was one of
the hardest things we’ve ever done. Was it chaotic? Of course, at times! But it
was dad’s wish to die at home in his own bed, and that’s what we enabled him to
do.
But I don’t want to end this eulogy on such a sad note,
because Dylan was not a fan of what he referred to as “miserable shit!”
Instead, I want you to spend some time remembering all of those things he
taught you about nature, about life, about why it’s a bad idea to ride a bike
home from the pub with a giant sack of potatoes on the handle bars, and most
importantly, what he taught you about yourself.
We will miss you dad. X













