OBITUARY
Michael Paciorek Howden-le-Wear 1926 – 2025
THE funeral of Howden-le-Wear legend, Michael Paciorek, was held at St Cuthbert’s RC church in
Crook on Tuesday (April 29 th ).
The service, led by Father Nick Jennings, began with the opening hymn, ‘All Things Bright and
Beautiful’ after which the placing of symbols on the altar and the opening prayers were given. The
first reading was from Wisdom 3: v 1-6 and 9, followed by Psalm 102 and a reading from the Gospel
according to St Matthew 5: v1-12.
Father Nick spoke the Homily, speaking about Michael’s talent for gardening, especially in the
allotment he and his late wife, Yolanda, tended for many years in Howden-le-Wear. And he gave a
potted history of his life.
The second hymn, ‘O Lord My God..’ was sung before Intercessions and The Lord’s Prayer.
And then came the Eulogy, written and spoken by Michael and Yoland’s son, Andy. He began by
thanking everyone for attending and for the many cards and condolences and continued…
‘Mieczyslaw Paciorek known in England as Michael and to his Polish family and friends as Mietek,
and to our family here as Dad, Fatha or Grandad passed away on April 2 nd 2025 aged 98. Some
people say it’s a shame he never reached 100. It is in a way, as he never got his card from the King,
having outlived the Queen who was born in the same year as him. Nor did we get to the Antiques
Road Show to be valued. He was a Vintage, not quite an antique, but definitely a classic, yet one of a
kind, and 98 years itself is pretty good going. Especially as he didn’t take the easy route through life
to reach that longevity.
‘Our dad was known for being quiet around the village but if asked a question he would
sometimes answer thoroughly, perhaps too thoroughly. I remember one day in the Green Tree pub
in Howden another local character, who is sadly also no longer with us, Dave Quinn, asking our dad
what he did at the end of the Second World War. I wandered off as I thought that question is not
specific enough – this could take some time. I wandered back about an hour or so later and our dad
was still talking and he had only got to the year 1947.
‘Mietek Paciorek was born in a field … literally … his father, Josef and mother, Maria lived off the
land and tended crops and animals. In 1926 in Chronov a village in Poland, about 30 miles from the
city of Krakow, in a field Maria Paciorekova gave birth to our dad, the second of her children – our
dad had an elder sister Anjela and 4 younger brothers Gregor, Genek, Brunek and Josef.
Descendants of the Gorals, the mountain people of Southern Poland
‘Living a very frugal life anyway, with our dad’s siblings having to help with agricultural jobs,
things got more difficult as his father, my grandfather, Josef took ill and passed away only in his 40s.
Meaning that the children had to take on more farm tasks. And things got harder still when Poland
was invaded by the Nazis. Seized from his home as a teenager, his earlier rural physical activities
saved his life as being young and fit destined him to be taken to Germany to be used as slave labour
upon a farm in Koblenz, rather than being interred in a camp to a potentially much shorter life.
He saw some things in his youth in wartime Germany that nobody should ever see and
experienced some things that also put his own life in danger. Having escaped the farm, he was
captured again by the Nazis and seemed marked for death by shooting, but again his physical fitness
saved him as they needed labour, and he was sent to the frontlines to dig ditches. Amidst the bullets
and bombs, again our father witnessed further grim occurrences.
‘When the war ended, he was at a loss what to do next, so he walked back to the farm where he’d
previously been forced to work. The owners explained that since Germany had lost the war, they
were in no position to take on paid employees, so my father found himself going to Munich to work
for the American air force, where he served as a guard at the airport.
‘After a few years as a displaced person, he could not return home to Poland, having worked for
the Americans and now in the age of the cold war and Poland being under Soviet control. He cast his
eyes further afield. Of the countries and jobs on offer his first choice was to go work on a cattle farm
in Venezuela. It may be difficult to picture our dad as a cowboy gaucho, but it is a job that would
have suited him well as he loved horses and horses loved him.
‘In his elderly years, when the weather was good my brother, sister and I would go for walks with
him in his wheelchair and horses would always come over to see him. There was one horse, which
my father called Castan, who was particularly friendly with him. Since losing our dad we have taken
the same walk several times, but Castan the horse has little interest in us anymore.
‘Our dad was not destined for Venezuela though as the entire group of people hoping to go there
had to pass a medical exam and one of the other people failed. If one failed all were rejected. So, my
father opted instead for England and all the party passed requirements and so he came here in 1948.
Initially placed at Harperley Camp which had changed from its role as a prisoner of war camp to a
refugee centre.
Apart from a brief time, living and working in Lincoln, my father returned to County Durham, at
different times living in Howden le Wear, Crook, Roddymoor, Hunwick and Bishop Auckland. He took
on various jobs, being known for his high work ethic. He was known as a grafter. He was employed
building roads for Durham County Council, at brick yards, at the ATM factory and various other
labouring work. He is probably best known however for being a gardener. He worked on many
gardens in the area, including during the 1980s here on Church Hill as the gardener for the Convent
and Presbytery. He was a small man but also a very strong man.
‘In the early 1960s through a mutual friend, Sygmunt, he was introduced to an au-pair from Italy.
This was our mother, Yolanda whom we tragically lost 12 years ago.
‘Living for a while in Bishop Auckland, they then moved to a house in Bridge Street, Howden le
Wear where they shared over 50 eventful years of marriage and the rest of their own lives. Here
they raised their family, bringing into the world first my sister Chris, then my brother Paul and finally
me. In time our Paul gifted them with grandchildren – Ben and Joseph, whom they both were very,
very proud of. Growing into adults, to the last our dad maintained a great interest and pride in them
both – frequently asking about their work and travels.
‘Our father’s passion for work and gardening was not limited to paid employment only. For many
years he tended allotments in Howden le Wear producing food for the family table, fruit for my
mother’s extremely potent homemade wines and also giving vegetables to friends for their tables
too. He would also help some elderly villagers with tending their gardens. Another villager, whom
we also recently sadly lost would say to my sister that our dad was the only person he’d ever seen
digging uphill!
‘It wasn’t just the vegetables though, it was animals. Our mam and dad for years kept hens and
rabbits, but also in the menagerie from time to time were also goats, pigs and the famous Charlie
Goose – better than any guard dog. The only person whom Charlie tolerated in the garden was our
dad. Anyone else would be lucky if they escaped only with a hiss and a chase. In the house cats and
dogs were also to be found.
‘Besides the gardening, he loved chopping sticks and especially sawing logs, but he also had other
forms of relaxation. In the 1950s he used to love going dancing in Newcastle and in his later years he
loved being taken out for drives in Paul’s car and he used to enjoy going to the Bingo. Spending
nights at the Plantation, the Green Tree and when their doors finally closed forever – at the
Australian pub in Howden, in the company of many friends. Of special note is Frances Emmerson
who showed our dad great kindness and friendship. Also of note regarding friendship is my sister
Chris’ partner Rob Foster, whom was like a third son to him.
So, 98 years, some good times, some bad times and some hard times. Mietek – Michael – was a
survivor. He was like a cat with not only 9 lives but 98 lives. In his time, he suffered not only the
troubles of the war but also such odd trials as falling off roofs, falling of the back of a truck, falling of
the back of a motorbike, getting hit on the head by a JCB digger, standing on a wasp’s nest and even
getting stuck in quicksand (that time the JCB digger helped not harmed).
‘Many a time as kids, we’d hear a voice calling “Yolanda, Yolanda” and look out of the window to
see our dad coming up the backyard bleeding from someplace or another, the result of a saw blade
or hammer or nail or whatever. Waiting for our mam to patch him up time and time again.
‘He had fight left for illness as well. Our dad survived a heart attack, skin cancer, several bouts of
pneumonia, one time a few years ago when he was in hospital with a chest infection, we received a
telephone call from a nurse informing us that there had been both Covid and Influenza outbreaks on
the ward and our dad had tested positive for both together. We feared the worst, but he was
deemed healthy enough to be discharged a few days later. He kindly shared the Influenza with me,
and he recovered much more quickly than I did.
‘Another time he fell and managed to break ribs and puncture both lungs. Air leaked under his
skin and his whole body inflated like the Michelin Man. His skin felt like bubble wrap and nurses had
to massage his eyelids so he could see as they too had inflated. During that stint in hospital, he was
regularly visited by groups of student doctors as he’d become a medical marvel.
‘They were really built to last in his day. But time takes a toll. In the last few years, after every
illness, after every hospital visit a little bit less of him came home. A bit more faded, but until the
very last he kept a sharp mind and a sense of humour. He had a very mischievous and very funny
wit.
‘In many of the cards we received, he is described as a gentleman. In his hospital stays, every time
the nurses loved him. He was always polite, thankful, never any bother and in our times visiting it’s
sad to say that we saw a lot of patients aren’t like that. So, the nurses appreciated him and liked him
and shared many a joke with him as he recovered. At his last hospital stay, when he was past
recovery, when time had taken its last toll, the nurse tending him cried at his passing.
‘98 years is a long time. It’s a lifetime and more, and Michael Paciorek lived a life. Always a grafter,
always a survivor, but there comes a time to put the work tools down (even in his later years our dad
still had dreams of being at work and would even wake sometimes worried that he was late for
work)
There comes a time to rest.’
After the Commendation, the final hymn, ‘Give Me Joy in my Heart’ was sung and Michael left the
church for the final time to his resting place in Howden-le-Wear cemetery to the tune of Lee Marvin
singing ‘Wandering Star’.
Howden-le-Wear has lost another of its great characters but Michael Paciorek will be remembered
for a very long time.
