When I think of Pete and the memories we shared I will remember him as a good man and kind and generous friend.

There was no side to Pete.  What you saw was what you got.

He would invariably be the life and soul of the party, leaving us crying with laughter at some of his antics such as navigating backwards and forwards through the broomstick over his head without letting go of it.  But at other times you would know that he was, shall we say, “less than happy”.

I first met Pete in 1969 when I met Lynn and joined what has now become the Tucks.  As a callow youth it was a bit scary.  I was a 19 year old student, he was 22 and already a successful commercial artist.  He had been going out with Janet for number of years and kind of took me under his wing.  He was incredibly generous, often driving me back to Uni in Guildford late at night in his Jag after a Monday night roast and card session.

Over time we became friends, mates.  We weren’t in eachother’s pockets but the times that we got together were good and we could always easily pick up where we left off.

Pete was not only a skilled commercial artist, he was a talented cartoonist and also had a way with words to memorably sum up a situation.  “Apple Schosh” brings back memories of Friday night dinners at the Berni Inn, when some drink had been taken, cries of “more toast” echoed along the banks of the canals at breakfast after an early morning fishing session and of course “too late Ethel” needs no further explanation!

Later, when Jane and Tom came along, he was incredibly generous to them – taking them away for long weekends – to Canada – and spending hilarious canal and boating holidays with them not to mention the fishing and the flying.

When they were younger Pete and Janet, Lynn and I used to take Phil and our grandson, Jamie, away on seaside holidays.  I remember one year we took them to New Romney staying in a caravan park right on the beach near the sand dunes.  They were about five years old.

One day us “adults” hatched a plot to hoodwink and entertain the boys. Pete created a treasure map of the dunes with X to mark the spot of buried treasure. He distressed the map with fire, dirt and cold tea.  Later that night I told them the tale of Black Jack O’Halloran, the feared pirate, who was said to have buried his treasure nearby when his ship was wrecked off the coast.  The treasure had never been found.

Lo and behold the next morning the map was found where it had lain undisturbed for 300 years – under our caravan!
The boys took their spades and, following the map, found X where they dug down and miraculously found two chests filled with jewels and doubloons.  Their excitement and the looks on their faces was priceless.
Both boys, now young men, still have their treasure boxes today.

He was also the instigator of “Ground Farce”, when as young houseowners we would “improve” eachothers’ gardens.  He was never happier than loading the dust, cement mixer, picks and shovels into the back of the Shogun and spending his weekends knocking up muck and laying patios and bricks!  All he would take would be bacon sandwiches and a never ending supply of beer.  I swear that our patio was laid mainly on beer bottle caps!

In the early 2000’s young Phil came into his life as he and Janet cared for him.  Parenthood came to him late in life but he absolutely doted on Phil and loved him like a son. There were difficult times but Janet and he can be incredibly proud of the young man that Phil has become today

Throughout the 55 years that I knew Pete and through his recent, horrible illness he was a good friend – a mate.  We shared good times and bad times and I shall miss him terribly.

So, goodbye my captain.  I shall see you on the other side.

Simon