Peter William Sergeant (30 Aug 1945 - 21 Nov 2019)

In fond memory of my Uncle Pete who gave me his old football boots and changed my life!

Thank you caring for me when I was young and being the best grandfather a boy could ask for.

I'll miss you but always hold onto our fond memories.

I love you grandad, rest well ol chap ❤️❤️❤️

RIP to our brother and brother in law.

Sadly missed by your kingsthorpe family xx

In memory of Pete Sergeant. Your wonderful daughters are such a special legacy. Thank you for my beautiful daughter in law. Rest in peace.

As he got older Peter became quite a quiet teenager and because of the 6 year age difference I didn't see much of him. Our lives followed different paths and we lost touch. I tried everywhere to find him, even trying missing persons with the salvation army. When my youngest daughter Donna got married I managed to finally track him down. It was a real surprise for our dad such that dad was in tears.
Then we lost touch again for over 20 years. My second husband Mark tried to find him via the internet but to no avail. Then we found an old number for Simone and managed to track Peter down finally. About six years ago we spent a weekend in Nottingham and met up with Pete in the King Billy along with Simmie.
Once again we lost touch until the sad letter from Simone to say he had passed away.
At the end of the day he was still my little brother wherever he was.
Rest in Peace my little brother.

When we were both young, mishaps seemed to follow Peter and me. One day I took him on the bus to Christchurch Gardens to a really nice paddling pool. I left all of our stuff on the side of the pool. As we were playing some boys stole my handbag with our bus fare in it. This meant we had to walk home, a good 3 to 4 miles. Peter, who was only 4 couldn't walk that far so his elder sister, me, had to piggy back him all the way home.

When Peter was about 2 years old, mum bought him some little red wellies, problem was he never took them off. He even insisted on wearing them in bed!

On August 30th 1945 my little brother was born in Winchester Hospital. When he was 6 weeks old the family moved from Broughton in Hampshire to Reading, Berkshire and into a prefab. Unfortunately Peter contracted double pneumonia and was very ill. When he was getting better Peter wanted some "choc choc". Dad walked around everywhere for hours to try and get some. (Just after the war it was in real short supply). He finally managed to get some and Peter was so excited that as dad was bent down he accidentally hit dad on the head with a pastry board. We all laughed so hard as it finally meant Peter was getting better!