Minty’s Funeral

Minty Braham (Clinch) funeral eulogy. St Mary’s Uffington, 28 Nov 2025

Glass half full or half empty? Glass completely full was Minty’s approach to life, and to your glass if she was pouring, probably with overspill onto the table. She grasped the ketchup bottle of life with both hands and squeezed every last drop out of it.

She was certainly a woman of parts. I won’t repeat them all – traveller, competitor at any game going. Hostess, masterchef (‘feed me till I want no more’ and beyond), generous giver of presents, dog lover, setter of cryptic treasure hunt clues that no one could solve.

Dawn informed me the other day that Minty preferred to be known as a journalist rather than writer or travel writer. This was a surprise,because Minty wrote a lot. There were film star biographies – Redford went into paperback – and a novel which was translated into Finnish. I wonder how many here have read much of all that?

I hadn’t, but have been dipping into the novel for clues, of which there are plenty. It’s the story of a woman who breaks free from a stifling conventional upbringing – she was known as Spotty Swotty at school – through her work in freelance journalism. There are some disparaging remarks about The Archers – ‘manufactured crises’ – so it obviously came after Minty submitted a script and had it rejected.

But Minty wasn’t defined by writing. It was something she knew she could do, well and efficiently, and it enabled her to live the life she wanted – visiting interesting places and doing interesting things, with people whose company she enjoyed. She took a remarkably charitable view of the travel press fraternity.

By the time I met her she had moved on from the film world, which was too sedentary for her and, as she said, 9 out of 10 of the screenings she had to sit through were rubbish. My first impression was when we arrived simultaneously at some promotional event at the Ritz. ‘I’m afraid you can’t come in in jeans,’ said the doorman. ‘Would you prefer me to take them off?’ said Minty, without breaking step.

Rules were there not to be obeyed, and she was up for anything. Hiking in the Himalayas, riding with gauchos, dog sledding and polar bears in Svalbard, Mongolia, North Korea, Iran, the more far-flung the better. When she went diving to feed sharks in the Caribbean we wondered which party to that exchange would be the more nervous. Via ferratas and couloir skiing in the Alps held no fear for her and when her favourite mountain guide in Chamonix said ‘there is no crevasse big enough for Minty’ he was referring not to her size but her indomitable spirit.

Minty used to say all Clinches were cursed with a passion for sport and no talent. Never mind, it was her enthusiasm and determination that won her admirers and friends wherever she went.

‘We thought she was indestructible’ was the gist of many messages we have received since she died. She certainly gave self-destruction her best shot, racking up hospital visits in France, Italy, Switzerland, Slovenia. From these setbacks she bounced back, more determined than ever.

I think the most inspiring thing about Minty was the way she adapted, as her favourite activities – riding, skiing, tennis – ceased to be available to her. She threw herself into croquet at Blewbury and in no time took over as lunch provider for the club and columnist for the national magazine. She thought nothing of driving half way across the country to play 6 hours of croquet in the hottest summer on record, and drive back again. She played bridge, kept up her golf until a couple of days before her last fall, and she took up painting and sculpture with some really impressive results.

This being a eulogy, are we allowed to suggest that Minty was not perfect? I suspect she may not have been a model patient, and had confirmation of this when I went to see her in the trauma unit of the JR last month. ‘How are you doing?’ I asked. ‘I’m afraid I’ve been behaving rather badly,’ she replied. ‘Yes she has!’ came a loud voice from the bed opposite. The problem was, she needed to get out in time to lead her family team at the Wantage Art Group Quiz Night, to be followed by the golf day she had arranged for Ravi at Wrag Barn. It was not to be, and she was not happy.

Bad behaviour? Some of you may know the story of Minty’s mother Biddy walking off rather than lose to Minty at croquet. We were reminded of this during a recent game of Happy Families. As Minty’s collection of Brewers and Butchers slipped away, her face darkened, until she threw down her remaining cards in fury: ‘well, Apsara’s obviously going to win.’ I don’t think she ever gave up on Racing Demon, but did she ever lose?

At the wheel of her BMW she got somewhat inaccurate of late, and it gave an added frisson to my bike rides when I knew Minty was out and about. I think only those of us who played golf with her, and had to point out her ball in mid-fairway, knew how bad her eyesight was. But there was no stopping her and woe betide anyone who mentioned the idea of eye tests for the over 70s, a policy initiative she viewed as a personal vendetta and a violation of human rights. She had a few scrapes and was a popular figure at the local bodywork garage, but she slowed down and by some miracle never did anyone, not even herself, physical harm.

According to the last chapter of Minty’s biography of Harrison Ford, every good story has a tranquil beginning, a turbulent middle and a happy end. Minty’s life was certainly a good story. Its beginning doesn’t sound entirely tranquil, but I dare say her marriage to David had its turbulent moments, as for example when he opened the car door into the path of an oncoming Mercedes with the result that Minty lost her licence for drink driving (a ban she cheerfully ignored, using an American licence instead).

As for the end of her story, the last twenty years were indeed happy for Minty who loved her life in this great village and they were happy for us who lived with her and were lucky to share the many friends she made here, her family, and her beloved Alfred.

So with great sadness we say goodbye to the one and only, remarkable Minty: a great spirit, home from the hill. The Minty Clinch – great name, shame about the music.* I can’t improve on the words of her friend Charles, who grows the best sweet peas and keeps us updated with the form of Surrey Lord which he calls Minty’s horse.

After they made her, they broke the mould.

Adam Ruck

Notes
Feed me till I want no more and Home from the hill are references to previous items in the service

*a previous speaker mentioned the fact that there was a rock band named after
her. She went to one of their gigs in a London pub and introduced herself. They
were terrified she was going to sue. She made them give her a CD. It was
execrable.

A video of the funeral is available.