Peter the postman with an IQ of 159
My husband Peter
by Carol Kirk
Peterter grew up in a two-up, two-down cottage in Duston, Northamptonshire, with his mother Vera, who was a caterer, and his grandmother Florence, a local darts champion.
He never met his father, Henry, a soldier who had been stationed at the barracks nearby.
When told the happy news that Vera was pregnant, Henry fled back to his own wife and family on the South Coast.
For all that, Peter’s childhood was happy. He adored reading, loved nature and the outdoors — and had a pet squirrel who used to run up and down his arm.
Academically gifted, he flew through the 11-plus, but later lost two years to rheumatic fever and left school early, flitting from job to job — painter and decorator, aerial-rigger and warehouseman.
Vera, meanwhile, married a man from Belfast who knocked her about. A second wedding to an American GI was called off when it emerged that he was already married.
Eventually, she settled down happily with second husband, Julyan John Hakes, and, finally, Peter had a sister, Julie. Despite a 12-year age gap, they were close.
Pete and I met on a coach trip to Farnborough Air Show in September 1962. He fell for me very quickly.
It took me just a little longer, but eventually I realised that, though a man of very few words, what he said was worth hearing. We wed in 1964 and were very happy.
We had three children, David, John and Lorna, and three grandchildren. He was a lovely father — quiet and loving.
He read constantly, adored cricket, was a brilliant musician and photographer, and collected everything from stamps to concert programmes.
We never moved from Duston, but he adored travelling around Britain.
Later in life, he took exams for fun: O-levels in English and Maths, a traffic controller qualification and, in 1992, he took the Mensa test and scored 159.
His certificate says that he was in the top one per cent of the population!
Pete was never career-minded, but had always longed to be a postman. When he took the test in 1986, they said he was too clever.
But he insisted and loved it. He even won Postman of the Year and was on Anglia TV.
It was after our daughter Lorna’s wedding in 1997 that our health started to fail.
I was diagnosed with multiple sclerosis and, soon after, Pete with an inoperable brain tumour. The doctors told him to enjoy life as best he could.
He lived for another 20 years! Slowly, he went from walking stick to a walking frame to a wheelchair and, for the last three years, he was virtually housebound.
But he never, ever lost his spirit. He joked all the time and his carers loved him.
Pete could have done so much more with his life, but it wasn’t wasted. He was happy with his lot and was a lovely, lovely man.
Peter Charles Kirk, born July 26, 1942, died March 11, 2017, aged 74.