Tracey Elizabeth Pointer

Entrance Music
Swan Lake

Welcome
Good morning ladies and gentlemen, I would like to offer you all a very warm welcome as we unite in love and friendship to pay our respects and say our goodbyes following the sudden death of a Tracey Elizabeth Pointer. Tim has requested that I speak to Tracey throughout the service, sharing a simple summary and memories from her life.

Tributes to Tracey
Tracey was born a northern girl and the apple of her dad’s eye. The rabbit became a pony and there was always a dog in the house. Tracey’s love for animals was set for life. Tracey and her dad were seldom apart but when they were her dad would write to her. Words from a postcard 6th November 1972 say; “Dear Tracey, your daddy is now in Lapland but so far I have not seen Father Christmas. The countryside is covered with forest and everything thick with snow. We are at present driving a hire car and we have passed a herd of reindeer. Lots of love Daddy xx.”

The family spent their early years in Hull before moving to Cheltenham where Tracey attended Arle School. Tracey’s family then returned back to the north, which Tracey saw as her true home.

Tracey and Organised Crime
In the 1980’s Tracey then took herself off to the Canary Isles. Unbeknown to Tracey at the time she was working for some of London’s gangsters who were laundering their money in Time Share. Tracey loved the sun, loved the sea and the high life.

Tracey at Scotland Yard
On returning to England Tracey had a variety of jobs before joining Scotland Yard in the 1990’s. Tracey is remember by Stephen Sharrock:

My earliest memories of Tracey are from my days as a callow Detective Constable, just arrived in the hallowed corridors of Special Branch. Like a two-headed Cerberus, she and Maureen stood guard at the gates of the Training Office, shielding their genial Detective Inspector from the importunate requests of parvenus. They must have spent days together practising the same thin-lipped expression of incredulous outrage at applications for the most trivial and basic courses, but as you slunk away ashamed at your own temerity for seeking, for instance, the basic paperclip course, you would hear gales of raucous laughter behind you. Yet once you had been accepted as not too much of a nuisance, it turned out that Tracey was genial, helpful and very knowledgeable; she just expected police officers to know their place, which was as equals of and not superior to the many ‘civilians’ who had dedicated their entire career to the Branch and knew its workings intimately.
 
She and Maureen had been thick as thieves for longer than anyone could remember, and were popular company after hours in The Tank, though unlike Maureen, Tracey’s capacity for alcohol was legendary. If she ever did feel unsteady on her feet during the time I knew her in Special Branch, I never spotted it, and it was all the more impressive as she invariably wore her trademark high heels.
 
Most of the time I spent with Tracey was at Waterloo International. It was assumed that this was run by the Detective Chief Inspector, Clive Shaw, but actually Tracey managed the show. DIs came and went, never really understanding the arcane mysteries of the workings of P-WIT and wholly reliant on her. She was also the conduit of Clive Shaw’s displeasure, and she did this so effectively that, over the course of the year that I spent there, he was free to maintain the persona of affable DCI, and I only once saw him rebuke anyone in person. Tracey discharged this duty mainly through a sliding scale of facial expressions: mildest was when she pointed out your shortcomings with wide eyes expressing incredulity; after that came a wide-mouthed, thin-lipped look; you had hit rock bottom if she combined that with slitty eyes.
 
In her role as the unit’s eminence gris, she was helped in part by Clive the chief inspectors tendency towards delegation, thus allowing him to focus on delicate liaison and hospitality matters; in part also by her knowledge of the complex geography of the subterranean Victorian maze of rooms and corridors under Waterloo Station, where she could plausibly disappear for hours moving between the numerous SB offices, storage rooms and locker rooms; but mainly by the fiendish system of record administration she oversaw. This ensured that she was (a) indispensable; and (b) the only person who knew how to collate the statistics for the weekly key performance indictors by which Clive (and hence our) happiness was measured.
 
One day we had a conversation which taught me most of what I later needed to know about KPIs:
 
Me – How are the stats looking this week?
Tracey – Pretty good. Slightly up on last week.
Me – Oh, that’s good. How are we doing this month?
Tracey – Quite well. Over the year some months are up and some are down, but the overall trend is up.
Me – It must take you ages to do.
Tracey – Nah. I know that you’re all working hard. I just make them up. Keeps everyone happy.
 
One of the duties of officers who travelled to France and Belgium to carry out onboard controls on the Eurostar was to acquire consignments of cigarettes and wine on Tracey’s behalf: in those days she seemed to subsist exclusively on red wine, fags and air. On only one occasion I recall did she travel out with us, presumably to confirm that we were all indeed working hard. As we walked back to the station in Lille after a ‘working’ lunch, she stopped dead in the street. ‘What’s wrong?’, we asked. ‘I can’t walk any further’, she replied. Full of concern we asked ‘Why not?’. She stood stock still, then said ‘Because my f****** heel is stuck in this f****** grate.’

During this time Tim and Tracey were to meet in the lift at the 16 floor.

They eventually set up home together in Leatherhead.
 
The Lizzara Years – Cats come into Traceys life.

Ginny Black (Lizzara Birmans and Norwegian Forest Cats)
I first met Tracey and Tim in 1996 when they approached me for a Birman kitten. Red-teddy-go – a red point Birman born on 28/05/96 he joined them in I think September of that year.  Our friendship grew and in 1997 I entrusted Barbarella, a silver tabby Norwegian Forest Cat who was in need of a retirement home. Tracey was besotted with her & I knew that I had made the right decision. Around that time Karslburg, a brown tabby Norwegian Forest Cat & grandson of Barba joined their growing feline household. Just before we moved to Scotland in 2000 brothers Binki & Bobbi (blue point Birmans) joined their clan.

Tim recalls:
A Norwegian Forest Cat or A Birman what was it to be with the emphasis on “A”; singular.
 
Extensive research done and “Lizzara” was to be the breed, just what was it to be? Norwegian or Birman, a kitten of either surely would do. One just recently introduced from the wild, the other a lap cat for Kings from faraway places. So came the day for the visit to the cattery to meet Ginny and her beloved cats so we are agreed one kitten of either breed.
 
Needless to say the first cat was Teddy soon to be followed by Barabarella an enormous Norwegian who having given birth to champions was reaching the age where she needed a quieter life. Before long we were joined by Karlsberg, then of course there were the two Birmans “Bobbi and Binki” one with a congenital bend to his tail the other so undersized and not to specification to be shown.
 
Oh did I mention showing cats? Well there was a network of shows every weekend all over the country and well having taking a shine to Teddy along came Baba, Karlsberg, Bobbi and Binki 
 
So all in all five scrummy cats were to bless the home and many happy miles driven with not so happy felines to shows in village halls and leisure centres all over the south of England.
 
All now sadly gone but all very much a part of Tracey’s life and all would have said thank you mum for finding us......

The move to Leatherhead was also to bring Tracey some of her happiest times as it reintroduced Tracey to horse riding which was a long held childhood passion.

The Very Best Years……Tracey’s time at Vale Lodge Stables, Leatherhead

The day Tim walked into Vale Lodge Stables to enquire about riding for Tracey was the start of a lovely friendship between her, Jill, Wendy, Helen, Susie, Lizzie, Sara and Patrick and lots of others. She joined the riding school with so much enthusiasm and in no time it was as though she had always been there. She would often ride both days at the weekend and if she happened to have a holiday from work, she would be there during the week as well. Tracey loved all the horses, riding amongst others Tommy, Sarno, Taluca and Trojan but her favourite was probably Taluca – he was a very big chap, a real gentle giant and with Tracey being such a small person, it was amazing that they got on so well together.
  
Jill owned the stables, Wendy lived there and helped run the yard. Patrick is a marvellous maintenance/handyman. Susie, Helen and Lizzie are identical triplets who shared one horse of their own (called Sea Shanty) but rode all the others as well. They were the most experienced riders but Tracey tried her level best to live up to their standards. They all got on extremely well together.
  
Sara and Tracey became very good friends and met up at times away from the stables. Sara continued to visit Tracey when she moved to Hayling Island which must have helped keep her connected to Leatherhead and the horses and the people at Vale Lodge.
  
The stables held various riding competitions which Tracey joined in. She was always a little nervous when it came to this but still played her part in making it a happy day.
  
Tim donated a lovely trophy which was called “The Pointer Pot” and the girls competed for this once or twice a year. Everyone wanted to win the Pointer Pot. Sadly Tracey never quite managed it but always made a huge effort.   

Tracey was a very generous person, most noticeably at Christmas. Some years she and Tim would arrive at the yard to visit Jill and Wendy carrying bags full of presents all beautifully wrapped. The rest of the morning was spent unwrapping these incredible gifts. She was a great “giver”.
  
On Jill’s 80th birthday, Tim brought Tracey all the way up from Hayling Island to join a small party which was being held. She arrived carrying a huge box which, when opened, produced a large garden ornament in the shape of a lovely tortoise. It still spends the spring and summer sitting out on the grass in front of the bungalow in the stable yard with lots of other garden animals for company.   
  
It was really good for the stables to be involved in what must have been the happiest day of Tracey’s life – the day she and Tim were married. It took place in the local registry office, half a mile from the stable yard. Jill and Helen were asked to be witnesses and whilst everyone was in the service, black and white Trojan – another of Tracey’s favourite horses – was led up the road to wait in the gardens for her to come out. He was such a good boy that day. When she and Tim emerged, the look on her face when she saw Trojan waiting for her was a joy to behold. Some beautiful photographs were taken of Tracey with Trojan, one of which still stands in the living room of Jill’s bungalow at the stables.
  
Tracey really loved the Stables and Tim was incredibly supportive; more often than not bringing her and picking her and up and frequently watching her lessons. They were both a big part of the life there. When they moved to Hayling Island, they were missed enormously and left a very big hole.
  
God bless you Tracey.
  
Much love from us all
  
Jill, Wendy, Helen, Lizzie, Susie, Patrick and Sara

Words spoken by Sara Allen, Tracey best friend…………………..
Sara will now join me to say a few of her own words.
Thank you Sara.

The Blockbuster Years
On moving to Hayling Tracey secured a job at Blockbusters Video rentals. This brought Tracey in to contact with so many like-minded people who shared a passion for films. Tracey was also able to utilise her sale skills again and frequently won star of the month for her sales and productively. Tracey was devastated when it was to close.

Toni Caulkett work friend said:

Tracey I remember the day we met so vividly. Ten years ago you came into Blockbuster as a customer asking for film recommendations and we had a really good chat about the film ‘Antichrist’ which I mentioned to you. We still laughed about it ten years on when I remember that one thing you said that had me laughing so much and thinking you were absolutely nuts or should I say ‘barking’ one of your favourite words 😂 just a few months later you were working there and they will remain the best couple of years of my life with the best laughs and the best memories.

Reflection Music
We will now pause for reflection as we listen to Babylon Berlin (Severija). Perhaps you may choose to use this time for your own personal thoughts and memories of Tracey.

The Darker Years
Tracey now had to look elsewhere to fulfil her insatiable appetite for fiction. And  found the answer in her kindle, something she would never be without. Amazon Prime was Tracey’s library for both films and books. Tracey followed many new authors in a quest for more challenging reading material one such author Jack Wildern upon hearing of Traceys death has written Tracey story in her memory.

Tracey’s Story – Written by Jack Wildern
Speak to anyone who likes visiting dark places and you’ll likely be overwhelmed by their enthusiasm for all things awful. The horror, the weird, the unknown. The things we are told but would rather forget. They’ll drink it all in and will be happy to share it with you, if you’ll stick around long enough to listen.

My first conversation with Tracey was about something strange and I liked her immediately. We had seen the same film. I can’t recall which one, but there is a good chance that it was rented from Blockbuster and was the only copy in the store. Yes, one of those films. The old, subtitled one. The one with the grim synopsis that runs for three hours. The one that has made the top ten in a ‘most controversial films,’ list. Most would avoid it. But to some, it looks as good as blood on snow.

Books and films allow us to live in the dark. You can let it in safely, where it will stay under your skin for days. Crawling out from beneath your fingernails, commanding you to watch that film one last time, or turn the page in that book, the one you can’t put down until 2am and your eyelids force themselves shut. But the experience is only ever as good as the story. And a good story should stick with you. It should pop up at the dinner table and distract you from the conversation. It will live somewhere in that deep part of your mind and tap you on the shoulder every so often, going off like a bright light, urging you to experience it again. And then there are times when the story is not imaginary. It doesn’t sit behind a screen or hide in a page. It’s the worst story you’ve ever heard and yet there it is, taking you to dark places that you don’t want to go.

But in dark places there are lights. And every story has an arc. And in this moment, even though the story is as bad as it gets and the arc feels like it’s falling further and further downwards, there will be a light somewhere. Waiting to tap us on the shoulder and say, remember that film we saw? Let’s watch it again. The world is full of good stories. Tracey knew this and hundreds of them. She also understood what it meant to visit dark places and find the lights within them. So once in a while, go and live in the dark. Find a good story. Tracey would approve.
Jack Wildern. December 2020.
 
Exit Music

As we prepare to leave with thoughts of Tracey at the forefront of our minds, we will listen to Live With Me by Massive Attack. I wish you all well in your travels, not just as we leave here today but throughout your lives.