Ian Noble Tribute
  • Eugene Noble Funeral Eulogy


  • My father, Dad, Ian Noble.

    I have tried many times over to write this, it has been one of the hardest things I have ever tried to do in my life, and Nothing I could possibly write could encapture my true admiration for my father.

    One of my favourite things about my dad was his love and passion for people, it's something I take so much to heart, he was a man who would share the jacket off his back if he thought you would like it, he was never afraid to share anything with anyone and a beautiful example which my uncle Adrian shared with me was how once on a coach back from a gig in london he was talking to a friend and they talked about how much they liked my dads watch so he proceeded to take the watch off his wrist and tried to give it to the chap without a moments thought, he would never leave someone out or let them feel unwelcome, which truly has been reflected to me in the beautiful things people have shared with me about my father, but none of this was driven by vanity, he would as happily share as he would listen. 

    I know as he has proved to me with his actions, that he would do anything for me, and my sister, but most importantly that he taught us and showed us that we could get to anywhere we wanted, whether this be with words or with actions my father showed how to achieve our goals. My father was unquestionably my hero.



    Inbuilt in both of us was a passion for design, which started with my love and obscure recognition for corporate logos, flags, and the progression of co-op’s shopfronts which my dad took keen interest in, to the stage I am at now, where I felt I could really prove myself to my father and be on the course I am now, but I still feel I have so much more to show him.

    He taught me to never take anything for granted, and he showed me that people power is the most wonderful thing on this planet. He wore thick-lensed glasses and his hair resembled a dead pigeon, but he still looked cool. He gave me and Audra hours and hours of laughs and smiles, voluntarily and involuntarily. We still laugh but pine for the feeling and resemblance of his corky hands.

    Regardless of his contempt for this description he was the big man, in every sense of the word, his heart was big, his smile was big, his body was big, and his death has left a tremendously big gap in all of us. I now have learnt that it’s not about who isn’t there it’s about who was, and the gift of having 20 years with my father being the man he was is better than to have any other dad for the rest of my life. Me and my dad knew each other for 20 years exactly. And Zenna Atkins put it more beautifully than I could possibly comprehend – the fact that my father’s day of death is my day of birth is more of a legacy than I could ever think up.

    So to my father my hero and my best friend, I CAN ONLY HELP YOU CONTINUE YOUR VENTURE TO MAKE THE WORLD A BETTER PLACE AS ANYONE WHO EVER KNEW YOU WOULD AGREE. 

My father was my Michael foot, he was my Joe Strummer, he was my Karel Martens.

    And the last thing I ever heard my dad say was I love you son.