My father, Martin Sibson, who has died aged 88, was a senior police officer and local government emergency planner before an active retirement in Norfolk.
Born in Norwich, the son of Daisy (nee Ford) and Arthur Sibson, he left Norwich City college at 14 with little by way of qualifications. A clerical job on the railways followed, punctuated by national service in the RAF. He was ambitious for wider horizons and so joined Cambridge Borough police in 1950.
He met Eileen Gould, then a student midwife, at a social event at the nurses’ home in Norwich, during which he gallantly allowed her to win a party game. They married in 1952 and had two children, my older sister Claire, and me. Keen to improve himself, Martin studied A-levels by correspondence while working shifts as a police constable.
He rose steadily through the ranks in the police, mainly in Cambridgeshire, but with two spells at the Police Staff College. After retiring as a chief superintendent in 1980 he joined Essex county council as emergency planning officer. In his 13 years there he transformed it from a small team putting up posters advising people to hide under the stairs in the event of nuclear war to a sophisticated operation working with other local agencies to plan for many different potential civil emergencies. He was appointed MBE in 1991.
In 1993 he and Eileen retired to north Norfolk, to a new home built according to their own design. Martin played an active part in village life, setting up a Community Links scheme, and helping to raise funds at local community and charity events. Eileen and he were very proud of a profile in the Eastern Daily Press recording their contribution.
Around 10 years ago Martin began to show signs of Alzheimer’s disease. He was cared for and protected by Eileen and, after her death in 2012, by some excellent carers at home, before moving into residential care last year. As dementia peeled away the outer layers, the essential man remained in place, with his qualities somehow even more evident. To the last he was friendly, sociable and concerned for the welfare of others. He continued to appreciate nature, music and the occasional glass of Guinness.
By coming across as happy and engaged with life, he may have helped in a small way to demystify Alzheimer’s for the people who came into contact with him, and to make it a less fearful prospect.
Martin is survived by Claire and me, and by his grandchildren, Leo, Anna and Lorna.
