PAUL ALEXANDER CORBETT

Paul wasn’t afraid of hard work — in fact, he seemed to thrive on it. I’ll never forget him working on the shore at Newhaven in the dead of winter, grinding away at huge steel pipes. He worked alongside me, our older brother Steven, and our younger brother Ricky. Paul could be playful even at work, and I remember Steven shouting across the site, “Do you want to keep yir jobbes?” — and Paul would just laugh and carry on. Back then, health and safety were… well, more of a suggestion than a rule. There was Paul, sparks flying everywhere, and what did he have? A fag dangling from the corner of his mouth like it was part of the safety gear. That was Paul all over.

 

He also had a real love for anything with an engine — especially motorbikes. The faster and bigger, the better. He once told me about a day at Knockhill Racing Circuit where he was competing against other bikers for the prize of a brand-new set of wheels. He gave it his all, but on the very last lap, he lost control and ended up damaging the wheels on his own bike. How ironic is that? He just laughed it off, as only Paul could.

 

Paul faced his own battles as well. He was diabetic, and despite the challenges that came with it, he never let it slow him down. He approached life with courage and determination, showing us all what it means to persevere, no matter the obstacles.

 

Paul was well-liked in the community. In the evenings, he would often be out delivering takeaway meals, and sometimes his daughter Claire would accompany him, always asking for her favourite — salt and spicy chips. They even shared little adventures together, like going night shopping in Asda. These small, everyday moments were full of laughter and showed the love he had for his family and the joy he found in spending time with them.

But more than the bikes, more than the graft, Paul’s greatest pride and joy was his family. He adored his children and grandchildren — wee Paul, Scott, Claire, Jordan, and his youngest, Millie. They were his world, and he loved them with every bit of his heart.

 

To those who knew him, Paul was a man of humour, loyalty, and quiet strength. He had his own way of doing things, and he never pretended to be anyone other than who he truly was. That honesty, that realness, is what drew people to him and kept them close.

 

Though Paul’s life was cut far too short, his legacy lives on — in the laughter we shared, in the memories we carry, and in the lessons he taught us without even knowing.

 

We will miss him every single day, but we will also be grateful — grateful that we had him in our lives, grateful for the love he gave, and grateful for the time we shared.

 

Rest easy, Paul. You’ll always be in our hearts.