Barry Herbert Seal: – [Heath 1948–1954]
Barry Herbert Seal passed away peacefully at home with his family on , aged 87 years. He leaves behind his wife Frances, two children Catherine and Robert and two granddaughters Peggy and Ivie.
The funeral took place at at Park Wood Crematorium, Elland; if desired, donations would be appreciated for Alzheimer’s Research.
You can download the Order of Service which contains some tributes or the full text of the tributes to Barry Seal in PDF format.
Barry recorded his memories of Heath on the audiotape compiled to celebrate 400 years since the granting of the charter.
Welcome and Opening Words: Sarah Garg, Civil Celebrant
Good morning to you all and welcome as we gather today to celebrate the life of Dr Barry Seal — a man of energy, curiosity, courage, and conviction; Barry was one of life’s true enthusiasts.
He would try almost anything — from building his own sports car from a kit and flying light aircraft, to breeding and racing horses. He lived life with both hands open, ready for the next challenge, the next idea, the next adventure.
As we hold Barry in our hearts today, we also think of those he leaves behind, his family; we think of his loving wife Frances, his two children, Rob and Catherine, and his two granddaughters, Peggy and Ivie and not forgetting 11-year-old four-legged friend and by all accounts, rather overweight Marley!
Barry was also an uncle to six nieces and four nephews. Three of them could be here today — Rita, John and Fergus; but before we speak of Barry’s remarkable life, it’s right that we pause to reflect on why we come together on days like this.
We come together to honour those we’ve lost — to share in our grief, but also in our gratitude. Every one of you here today carries different memories of Barry — as a husband, a father, a grandfather, an uncle, friend, a colleague and by gathering here, we weave those memories together into something lasting.
We celebrate the ways he touched many lives, the laughter he brought, and the difference he made. Though the loss is painful, this coming together reminds us that love, kindness, and legacy never truly die.
In Tribute to Barry: Sarah Garg
Barry was born in Halifax in 1937, the son of Herbert and Rose Seal. His early years were far from easy. His father left when Barry was young, but that experience — of resilience, independence, and growing up in a working-class household — helped shape the strong sense of fairness and justice that would later define his political life.
He was the second youngest of five children — with brothers John and Tommy, and sisters Mary and Margaret — all of whom he has now outlived.
It was a lively household; Barry would often recall stories of having to eat his dinner quickly, or risk having it snatched by one of his brothers! His sharp mind and determination earned him a scholarship to Heath Grammar School, a significant achievement at the time.
After National Service in the RAF, Barry trained as a chemical engineer with ICI, and went on to earn both a Master of Science and PhD in control engineering at the University of Bradford — remarkable milestones for someone from his background.
He worked with Murex, then as a senior engineer with BOC International, while also studying at the European Business School in Fontainebleau.
From 1971 to 1979, he served as Principal Lecturer in Systems at Huddersfield Polytechnic, inspiring a generation of students with his intellect and enthusiasm.
Barry’s commitment to public service began at home in Yorkshire. He was elected to Bradford Council in 1971, becoming Leader of the Labour Group in 1976. When the first direct elections to the European Parliament were held in 1979, Barry stood for the Yorkshire West constituency, which included Bradford, Halifax and surrounding towns.
He won the seat by just 2,997 votes — a narrow victory over the Conservative Lord St. Oswald, who had even brought Harold Macmillan out of retirement to campaign against him! By 1994, Barry had increased that majority to nearly 49,000, a testament to the respect and trust he earned over two decades as an MEP for Labour.
Barry served in the European Parliament for 20 years, a period that saw profound change in Britain and Europe.
He was known as a tireless advocate for his region, securing European funding that helped transform landmarks such as Wardley House in Bradford, which became an IMAX cinema and student flats, and helping to restore the Alhambra Theatre in Bradford and the Square Chapel in Halifax.
After leaving the European Parliament, Barry continued his lifelong dedication to public service. He was a passionate supporter of the NHS, serving as Chairman of Kirklees Primary Care NHS Trust from 2002, then of the Bradford District Care Trust from 2007 to 2012.
From 2013 until 2021, he chaired Age UK Leeds, continuing to champion fairness, dignity, and community.
In 2000, Barry was honoured as an Honorary Freeman of the Borough of Calderdale — a fitting recognition of his lifelong service to the people of Yorkshire.
Barry was also, above all, a survivor.
He battled serious illnesses for many years, including chronic leukaemia and heart problems. Even during treatment at St James’s Hospital in Leeds, where he took part in clinical trials, he kept his humour, his optimism, and his trademark determination.
Sadly, the illness developed into acute myeloid leukaemia in the final months of his life, and Barry passed away on 17 September 2025, aged 87.
But Barry’s life was far more than his work. He met Frances, the love of his life, when she worked at a library — and tried to impress her with his kit car. It clearly worked. They married in 1963 and shared 62 years together, a partnership filled with love, laughter, and mutual support.
Barry was also blessed with many close friendships — with Graham and Alida, Ann and Eddy, Max and Eileen, the late Alf Lomax MEP and his wife Chris, the late Tom Megahy MEP and his wife Jean, and his late personal assistant Ann Martin, who became a dear family friend.
Barry Seal lived a life of purpose — guided by principle, driven by curiosity, and sustained by love. He showed that no matter where you start, with determination, compassion, and courage, you can make a lasting difference.
He will be remembered not only for his achievements, but for his warmth, humour, and enthusiasm for life — one of life’s great doers, thinkers, and believers in people.
But Barry was also a family man; says Cath: ‘the one thing he would take with him from this world is my mum, he was a real fighter, surviving serious illness and many political battles. We are grateful that he died peacefully at home with his family and wonderful carers looking after him.’
But to tell us more about Barry the father, please welcome Rob
Dr Barry Seal — our Dad: Robert Seal
A big recollection of Dad when we were growing up was that he was always busy. He’d come home from work at precisely 5.40pm just in time for the news, he’d read the local papers the T&A and the Courier, wolfed down his tea and go straight back out to council or Labour party meetings.
We realised from an early age he wasn’t a regular Dad — he had so much energy and was a real force.
I put him on a pedestal, not because he was in the public eye, I found that embarrassing, but because he seemed to know or could do everything.
He fit the central heating at home, he built a trailer tent that we camped in every year, he built all the foundations of our house extension and he fit a replacement engine in his Triumph — he just seemed to know what to do, he was like super-Dad.
He was a strict though, we always had jobs to do, like washing up and washing his cars but that was typical of a child in the 70s. When I was 11 I really, I wanted a chopper bike for Christmas and he said if I washed up after every meal for six months there was a chance that Father Christmas might bring me one.
So, I did, and how he wound me up, right up to Christmas Eve — but to my relief Father Christmas delivered.
Our Dad was ultra-competitive whether it was running, chess, table tennis, or Monopoly. He’d turn everything into a competition which he always had to win.
‘It’s better to win and cheat a bit than play fair and lose,’ he told me!
We loved our weekend trips to Queensbury to see family and particularly at Christmas when Dad, relaxed, bantering laughing and bickering with his family.
He also loved his cars, especially British cars, and because I’m also car mad, we had a real connection.
Some of our happiest childhood memories were driving and camping holidays.
One year we drove round Europe in his favourite Triumph Stag, towing his hand-built trailer-tent. The first stop was Germany to see family who sadly couldn’t make it here today who are thinking of us — then Austria, and through Switzerland to buy a Tissot watch because he loved his watches and finally to Italy, our favourite place.
Cath and I squeezed into the back of the Stag singing along to Bob Dylan, Art Garfunkel, the Hollies, and Buddy Holly — over and over, tunes implanted in our brains, we knew every word.and Dad.
We loved this family time together with Mum.
Our Dad was a tenacious man — which was both a good and a bad trait — it stood him well in his career where he persuaded people of his beliefs and battled to climb the political ladder.
However, it led him into many arguments, particularly when we were out socially in supermarket queues or trying to get entry into the VIP airport lounges — while we cringed in embarrassment, he just had to get his way.
In 1979, when Cath and I were teenagers, he was elected as a Euro MP which meant adjustments to our family life.
For 3-4 days a week, he was abroad in Brussels, Strasbourg or Luxembourg; so his time at home was rarer.
He was mixing with high-profile UK politicians and leaders from around the world. One day I came home from school to find Barbara Castle sleeping on the couch or he’d be meeting Tony Benn, Tony Blair, Neil Kinnock, Prince Charles, and even the Queen. At 17, Dad went into the RAF with a dream of flying planes — and that dream became a reality in later life.
After quickly realising flying to Europe every week was costing the parliament a small fortune, he decided to embark on his next venture and learnt to fly.
After hours of study and practice, he got his pilot licence and started to fly himself to meetings on a weekly basis.
But Dad being Dad, it didn’t stop there — he joined two plane consortiums and managed to convince his family, friends and political colleagues to join him on flights. Anyone who’s ever flown in a 4-seater Cessna plane will understand that they are particularly hairy.
Once with Mum as his passenger, after take-off, and thousands of feet up in the air, she realised her door was open.
‘You’re going to have to hold it shut, Frances’ — so she did all the way back from Brussels.
He flew John Prescott and a terrified Euro MP Richard Balfe, abroad to Parliament.
On one occasion, he had a very close scrape when his wheels failed to come down on approaching Leeds Bradford airport, forcing him to crash land where luckily the fire service were ready and waiting, but to be honest he was quite chuffed about it because it made the local papers — any publicity was good publicity!
He really enjoyed his time in the European Parliament, chairing many committees — Cath went to live and work with him for four years in Brussels and often joined Dad and fellow Euro MPs Alf and Tom as they sought out the best champagne receptions.
Mum and Dad enjoyed travelling round the world, on many delegation trips, but not in a Cessna flown by Dad.
At 62, he had a triple heart bypass and stood down as an MEP. This was a huge life change for him and mum, which took a lot of adjusting to but helped him mellow.
So how could he fill this extra time? Well, he decided 64 would be a good time to take his motorbike test and start horse-riding. But he wasn’t satisfied just trotting along bridal paths — so he built a show jumping arena, set up a breeding laboratory and started to breed Dutch, warm-blood stallions and race horses.
This lasted for 10 years before taking up a more sedate hobby — bridge. But again, not content with just playing, he started negotiations to buy out the bridge club.
Covid times were a difficult period for our parents.
Dad had to come to terms with mum’s having Alzheimer’s and was wary of being in crowded places due to his own health problems and isolated a lot at home — as a result he lost a bit of his confidence.
But we still got together regularly for family gatherings and Cath and Andy frequently took Mum and Dad to the cinema, theatre, restaurants and trips to the seaside.
We refer to his 80s as his forgetful phase — particularly when we were out for meals and he’d was forever forgetting his pin number and blocking his credit card — we were never quite sure if this was his tactic to get out of paying.
Dad was 85 when I treated myself to an electric Porsche capable of 0-60 in 3.9 seconds. Still being his competitive self, a few days later, he called to tell me he was ordering a MG4 Xpower — just because it was a fraction of a second faster than mine.
Latterly, his routine centred around weekly doctor’s and hospital visits; however, he never gave in — he was a fighter and fought right until the end.
His loss has left an enormous hole in our lives. Our parents were married for 62 years, and he was a constant in our lives. We knew we could always depend on him for help, support and advice, no matter what.
He lived his life to the full and made sure Mum, Cath and I were safe and secure.
We received a message from a close friend of Dad's who said: ‘He was a special man who made a difference to many people - truly a life well lived.’
If there’s one word, I’d use to sum up our Dad, it’s impressive. He was an impressive man who lived an impressive life.
Mum, Cath and I are proud of him, proud of what he achieved in his life, and proud to be his family.
Barry the friend: Graeme Sunderland
I started writing this, hoping to capture something of Barry through a small number of the very many memories of him that we all hold.
Whilst it’s over 45 years or so since we first met, it’s really in the last two decades we became firm friends.
I think it was 2007 when Barry joined our illustrious walking group, KOCAS (Kirklees Old Codgers Ambling Society). Barry was a regular walker each Tuesday until relatively recently, when it became too challenging for him.
Towards the back end, to avoid giving up walking, he devised a system of getting up hills. A sort of hiker’s Stannah chair lift. Oscar, a large and powerful retriever, would literally tow him up hills rather like a sled dog. In this way, he would often reach the top before the rest of us. And he liked to be in a gold medal position.
Our relationship with Barry was based very much on humour, banter and political discourse.
Barry and Frances became very much a part of our wider friendship group, enjoying trips out and events together. Barry enjoyed good food and good wine, and eight of us would go together somewhere interesting for dinner. We rather pretentiously called it the Fine Dining Club, but we had some good nights out.
Barry was a Yorkshire man through and through who had achieved a master’s degree in what we call ‘the philosophy of being careful.’ He was a good teacher and I confess I learnt a lot from him.
One illustrative incident was at a cafe in Istanbul. Barry had somewhat unexpectedly volunteered to pay for the drinks of tea. He went off and disappeared in his search for the cash desk. Suddenly rising above the general hubbub, Barry’s disembodied voice rang out around the place - ‘how much?’
Now there’s a true Yorkshireman.
You may not know that Barry promised me a valuable part of his legacy. He intended to leave to me the entire contents of his compost bin. That’s the entire contents. As always, he was generous to a fault. However, you will not be surprised to hear I felt unworthy to accept such a wonderful gift.
To many of us Barry was a good pal who will be dearly missed. We will miss the laughs, the political arguments and obviously the banter.
Finally, I know Barry would be devastated if I failed to mention his driving. As we all know he was an enthusiastic rally driver. Except he didn’t actually drive in rallies.
Barry loved his fast cars and as you will know he hated it when someone attempted to overtake him. Those of us lucky enough to travel with him on these occasions felt grateful to arrive.
So, it’s an affectionate farewell to Barry our good friend. You’ve left us with some good memories that will continue to bring smiles and laughter. We will not forget you, Barry.
The Farewell: Sarah Garg
Barry Herbert Seal, may your love be reflected in all who knew you, and may you continue to live on through the lives of those you leave behind.
Your legacy is the memory of a great name and a great example, and as we stand for you now, we do so with love and with pride.
Everything you have done is still done.
Everyone you love is still loved.
Everything we’ve learnt from you is still learnt.
And so, we will let you pass from this world for which you did so much.
For which you continue to do.
You leave us with the strength and pride to do what is good and right,
And your memory will guide us just as you did when you were at our side.For this, we say thank you, and Barry with all our love, we bid you farewell.
Words to Close: Sarah Garg
As we come to the close of our time together, we hold in our hearts a man who truly lived life to the fullest.
Barry was driven by energy, curiosity, courage, and conviction — and above all, by love: love for his family, for his community, and for the world around him.
He showed us what it means to live with purpose, to keep learning, to keep striving, and to keep believing that one person can make a difference.
Whether in the council chamber, the cockpit of a small plane, or simply around the dinner table with family, Barry approached life with both hands open — always ready for the next challenge, the next idea, the next adventure.
Those who loved him will miss his strength, his wit, and his determination — but the gifts he’s left behind will continue to shape every life he touched. In Frances, in Rob and Catherine, in Peggy and Ivie, and in the many friends and colleagues who admired and respected him, Barry’s legacy lives on.
Though we say goodbye today, his story continues — in laughter shared, in causes championed, in memories treasured, and in the light, he’s left behind.
So let us leave here not only in sadness for his loss, but in gratitude for the remarkable life we’ve celebrated — a life well lived, a life that mattered, and a life that will continue to inspire.
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