by Ged Holmyard
Born: 9 July, 1946, in Yorkshire. Died: 25 March, 2001, in Edinburgh, aged 54
We are used to seeing obituaries to toffs and entertainers It is with great sadness that I write about the death of a true gentleman who entertained everyone he ever met.
Known by some as "Dave the Builder", Dave Parsons was a cyclist, a badminton player, a wit, a football fanatic, a cricket connoisseur, a tennis player, an uncle, a son, a brother, a socialist, an environmentalist, a brilliant friend and a self-taught master of the crafts of plastering and roof-tiling.
Dave had larger-than-life personality. He was such fun to be with; his customers would almost look forward to domestic mishaps, such as lost slates, because it would be an opportunity to have Dave round for a cup of tea and a laugh. The work would be done superbly and the bill would seem incredibly low - and not because he was bashful about his abilities. He delighted in boasting that when he plastered a wall, it "would be so smooth, if a fly landed on it, it would slide right off". It was a tribute to his reputation that when he died, he had an order book of 25 jobs - even though he never advertised. He relied on the best advertising of all - word-of-mouth recommendation.
Dave was a proud Yorkshire man, but it was in Edinburgh that he chose to dwell for the last 25 years We lucky Edinburgh folk. Before Edinburgh, he lived and work in Utopian community of Scoraig with his sister, Rosie, and brothers Mick (aka Udgar) and Ken. Scoraig folk still talk with awe about the time Dave picked up a Grey Fergie Tractor for a song and drove it all the way to that remote Wester Ross peninsula - from Scarborough in Yorkshire - chatting up farmers along the way and sleeping in their barns over the ten-day journey.
This was an epic trip David Lynch could make a film about. The only access to Scoraig was by crossing Loch Broom, which is in fact part of the Atlantic Ocean. One day, a Hungarian refugee, Mikos and his two children got into difficulties and were only saved from drowning by Dave, who came to their assistance in a canoe. To underline the bravery of that act, you have to know that Dave was not a natural seafarer. In fact it was 20 years later that it occured to Dave that learning to swim might be a good idea.
His Highland years was not just peace'n'love in neo-hippy community. (though there are many worse ways to spend your twenties.) Dave loved to win, and was always proud to relate that he was an Inverness district amateur tennis champion in those days. Everything he did, he loved to do really well.
Another constant theme in Dave's life was his love of cycling. He was a founding member of "Red Roulette" - a convivial cycling club whose members spent more time in bars, discussing future trips then we actually spent cycling. To be fair, Dave rode the lengths and breadths of Scotland and further a field with "Red Roulette", joking and chatting all the way, on his Orange Bob Jackson - a quality road touring bike hand build in the seventies. It says much for Dave's green credential that "Bob" is still in great nick.
It was second nature for this Yorkshire / Scotsman to look after things. Dave stood stood against the wastefullness of our disposable society. Same with his famous red ex-GPO van. That was a bit a wreck when he bought it, also in the seventies. Dave kept it going till 1999.
In 1977, some of his friends (including myself) founded the Edinburgh Bicycle Co-op. Like any new start-up, there was no guarantee that Co-op would be in business in following months, yet Dave loaned the Co-op a (huge in those days) four - figure sum - with no guarantee that he would ever get it back. (He did). He also helped us find our first property at our leafy location on Brunsfield Links. Dave the Builder was therefore instrumental in laying the foundations for one of the most respected bike shops in the country.
He was a really rounded guy who never grew old and cynical. There are not many people who went to two Glastonbury festivals, the first one in 1971 and the last one in 2000, and can genuinely claim to have enjoyed both equally. If you knew Dave, you will understand that being 54 did not debar him from having a brilliant time. Active till the end, he played tennis with his wee (51 year old) brother, Ken, the evening before he died, and hit a purple patch of form. "We've been playing every week for 25 years and that was the first time he put two aces past me in succession," said Ken.
I therefore salute Dave Parsons, an artist, whose medium was roof slates tiles and plaster, and who's work made people's houses warmer and safer. What could be more noble than that?
I'm proud to say that he was a friend of mine, but the great thing about Dave is that there are hundreds of other people who could say that about him too. He was totally unpretentious, he never had a bad word to say about anyone, and everybody he met loved him in return. Dave Parsons - a prince among men.
The Scotsman, 17 April 2001