Eulogies for Peter

Peter's funeral took place on Thursday 6th April 2.30pm at South London Crematorium, Rowan Rd, London SW16. Eulogies (posted below) were read by Peter's sisters Jenny and Sue, and by his friends and colleagues Gill, Erika & Bruce. So many people attended that there was standing room only, and many more who were unable to make it sent prayers and other messages. The funeral was followed by a wake at The Windmill pub on Clapham Common. The sun was shining and love was in the air.

Jenny reading for Sue and herself:

Thank you all for coming. I’m sure Peter would have been humbled, if not embarrassed to see how many people are here to show how much respect and affection you had for him.

Life’s not fair is it? They say God works in mysterious ways and it’s a mystery to us and I suspect all of you, as to why Peter should have been taken so suddenly from us. We feel it is a tragic waste of a very special person. Because our younger brother did not go to church and loathed hypocrisy, I feel sure he did not want the ‘normal Christian ‘ service. We and his closest friends felt a humanist one to be more appropriate. I would like to thank Bruce, Gill and Erika for helping me especially. This is the first one we have attended and hope some of you would like to share your love of Peter with us. It does not matter if you find someone else has said what you felt so please do not hold back . Thus I stand here today sharing my family’s thoughts of this extraordinary man who can never be replaced or forgotten. I found a quote that I felt befitted Peter from Marcel Duchamp. I think he might have set this as an essay followed by the word “Discuss”.

Well for my part, I believe that Art is the only form of activity in which man, as man, shows himself to be a true individual who is capable of going beyond the animal state. Art is an outlet toward regions which are not ruled by time and space.

We are all here to share our experiences in celebrating Peter’s life. Peter (Pete to us ) lived two lives, the main one being here in London where he spent all his adult working life, and the other obvious one with his family

Our first memory of him was in April 1949 seeing a wizened little old man in a cot up the corner of the nursing home in Colchester. Sue, his eldest sister and I were far more interested in the pink angora boleros that Mother had knitted for us than talking ‘goo goo’ to him.

Having two older sisters, Father was his earliest ally and I know Father’s death 3 yrs ago left deep scars. The fact that he was vertically challenged (it’s in our family genes) Pete relatively recently admitted he was bullied at Infant and Junior school. Apparently on one occasion two boys came to the house to demand money from him. This led to Father buying Pete a set of boxing gloves which he relished in trying out. Poor Father was on his knees (to be the same height as Pete) when Pete walloped him so unexpectedly hard that Dad fell and injured his patellas. Thus end of lessons as it was deemed Pete could now hit back hard and stand up for himself! We three used to play ‘garages’ together with his Dinky cars - any excuse to avoid having to do homework. Needless to say he did not play with our dolls! Sue remembers riding pillion on his first Lambretta scooter when he scared the daylights out of her as he took her for her first and last spin round the block. This showed his mischievous side getting his own back as she tended to act the big sister.

It was discovered at the IQ tests we did in those days of 11+ exams, that Pete had a Mensa IQ, which showed as he sat with us in recent years in front of the ‘Who Wants to be a Millionaire’ programme. He rarely won less than £250,000. His breadth of knowledge staggered me. Apparently he tried to get on the programme 3 times but was told to wait for that invitation that never came.

His enormous sense of fun, quick repartee, mimicry, puns and bellowing laughter helped him avoid potential bullying situations at his secondary grammar schools. He played for the school’s first Rugby team amongst other team sports. He achieved 11 GCE’s and 4 ‘A’ levels. There were no exams that he was free of antihistamines but it did not deter him. He spent 3 years at university before getting his Art degree from Brighton, followed by his MA at the Slade. After a spell teaching at Heatherleys he finally arrived at the K&C which he loved. I remember vividly his degree final exhibition in Brighton as I was 2 weeks off having Emma. I loved his sculptures in wood on the male/female form but was duly reprimanded by him at my plebeian attitude to several of his less obvious (to me) pieces. I really look forward to seeing his final exhibition this summer.

Pete was extremely fond of his 3 nieces, supporting Sue at the hospital in Vancouver whilst she had his God-daughter Natasha, and closely following her and Tanya’s school careers. He also enjoyed skiing at Whistler with Sue. Natasha is in the middle of her BSc degree exams which is why she is unable to be here but she has sent her and Tanya’s memories to be read out.

He overcame his morbid fear of water (he never learnt to swim) for my Emma-Kate, his eldest niece. Unfortunately Emma cannot be here because she is doing her 3 wks MRCS mock Surgery exams. I’ll read out her short message after this. I’ll never forget his face as he and Emma’s equally sea-sick Aunt flushed down double the dose of anti-sea-sick pills with oodles of booze on the Barclay’s Bank farewell boat at the start of the 2004-5 Global Challenge Round-the-World Yacht Race. They were as high as the rough seas which followed the end of the hurricane. He was totally overcome with emotion (or was it the wine?) at the atmosphere on that occasion. He has since said it was one of the best experiences of his life. When she returned in 2nd position he was so proud of her and nothing would stop him being near the water to welcome her in. This picture is the one on the web site. We had such fun that weekend together especially when playing on the Pitch and Putt golf course. He whacked the ball and lost some way beyond the course whilst I hit zigzag but like the tortoise, arrived first at the green! He used to get so angry with himself for making silly mistakes. He could be highly competitive. Especially in latter years he loved making up a foursome with Father for Sunday golf. He loved following Football and Rugby and lovingly remembered the trips to Twikkers with Mother and Father.

He did not suffer fools gladly and was not afraid to stand up for his principles, to stick his head above the parapet, which may have got him into trouble on occasion.

One of his amusing anecdotes was name dropping about the time he was given a ‘free’ holiday from a student of his, whose uncle was the Sultan of Brunei. At her 18th party he sat a few yards from his favourite, at that time, female singer Tina Turner. She was flown in especially for the event. He has always loved her song 'Simply the Best' as it reminded him of this holiday.

We find it hard to believe we will not see him again. He had such a caring nature and was so supportive to Mother especially after Father’s death

We remember him for his intellect, his passion for living life to the full, for his wonderful sense of mischief and fun, the glint in his eye as he teased one, his sarcasm, his love of Art, for his compassion and sensitivity to everyone with whom he came in contact. He gave 100% of his time to his beloved charges, no effort was too much. We all valued his opinion and often sought his advice.

These are my Emma’s words for her Uncle Peter:

You were my favourite funky Uncle, a very charismatic, talented, private man who was able to relate to all ages. We had such fun, my cousins and I, staying with you in your flat in London, site-seeing , singing at the top of our voices in the car to deafening music, staying up late and eating and drinking. all our favourite foods. You were the most up-to-date adult who treated us when teenagers, as equals. I loved your free spirit attitude that you instilled in me and gave me the motivation to follow my dreams which culminated in me sailing round the world, followed avidly by you on the web. I truly appreciated your sending me off and welcoming me home, it was such a precious memory.

I will now end with a poem I read at Father’s funeral because it sums up my idea of Death…

What is dying?
A ship sails and I stand watching
Till he fades on the horizon,
And someone at my side says,
‘He is gone’
‘Gone where?’
‘Gone from my sight, that is all,
He is just as large as when I saw him,
The diminished size and total loss of sight is in me
Not in him, and just at that moment when
Someone at my side says
‘He is gone’
there are others who are watching his coming,
and other voices take up a glad shout,
‘There he comes!’
And that is dying.

God bless you Pete, you were the best Son, the best Brother and the Best Uncle. You were ‘Simply the Best’


Sue reading Natasha's words, echoed by Tanya:

First of all I would like to apologize for not being here today. I hope these few words can capture how much my uncle meant to me.

Having Peter as an uncle was amazing. He was definitely the coolest adult in my life growing up. He was the one who bought the gifts our parents wouldn’t necessarily approve of and he was the one who would participate in all the crazy immature games we would play. I have so many wonderful memories of my uncle. I remember how one summer we drove for many hours through England to visit different relatives and how my sister and I made him play Alanis Morissette’s “Jagged Little Pill” cassette the entire time because it was the only cassette he had, that we Canadians had heard of. We must have played that record 10 times but he didn’t show any annoyance as we sang along at the top of our lungs, windows down, the entire journey. I remember how much fun we had in London staying with him as he showed us all the main attractions like Big Ben, the London Eye, Tower of London and a 24 hour bagel shop near Brick Lane, which we loved! He even took us shopping which, I admit, is not the most relaxing activity for any man. Most of all I remember how happy I felt whenever he was around. He could make you laugh no matter how grumpy or miserable you felt that day and he made you feel special by surprising you with a big bunch of yellow flowers on your Birthday. He was also someone you could really talk to. He always asked how you were and was prepared to listen to your worries, give advice or crack a joke to make you feel better.

I’ve read some of the comments posted on the blog created by his wonderful friends and it only confirms what I already knew: that my uncle touched so many lives with his incredible spirit and caring nature. He had a huge heart and shared it with so many people.

Finally I would like to say thank you to my dear Uncle Peter. Thank you for showing me the way one should really live life. How you should take chances, be unafraid, not worry about things you can’t change, care for those around you and keep a sense of humor through the good times and the bad. I can still hear your laughter and will never forget all the crazy times we shared. I have so many precious memories that will stay with me forever and am so honoured to be able to call you my uncle. You will be so greatly missed. I love you forever and always.



Gill's words:

We are all going to miss Peter. The Art Department are going to miss him immensely. Peter joined Kensington and Chelsea College in 1987, from Heatherlys and has worked as lecturer, course director and more recently curriculum leader. His passionate belief in his subject and how it could enrich people’s lives showed as a generosity, which touched many students, pushing them to succeed and achieve a better life through making art.

Along with Erika, Peter developed and managed the Pre-Foundation in Art and Design and the HNC. Peter and Erika were the perfect jobshare – they complemented each other in an exceptional way. From the students’ end of course reviews, he commented "It’s only Erika they love!" ... I told him to read them again! He was passionate about celebrating students’ achievements through ever more spectacular end of year shows – including the music, barbecues and dancing.

Since 2001 he had been first acting, then appointed as Curriculum Leader for Fine Art, Photography, Printmaking and Sculpture. In this role, he shaped the team and earned their, support and love. He always strove to improve things in college – pursuing his vision with intensity, high expectations and a sharp wit.

It’s not that he didn’t sometimes upset people, trying to convince them of the importance of his curriculum area, beating down barriers, battering obstacles, striving for change. Mostly the situation was saved by his humour. He would collapse into fits of laughter, crumbling all resistance until he got what he wanted.

Peter was hugely respected by all the fine art staff, his drive and determination pushing and even forcing students to achieve their potential. In the London art scene too - he was well-known and out there - visiting galleries, exhibitions and other colleges – recruiting students, meeting people and keeping absolutely up to date with what’s going on in the art world. He produced a special piece of work for the last staff show. With a job like this you don’t get much time to develop your own work, but every so often, he hung something fresh on the walls.

Everyone has their own special memory of Peter; whether within the College, in a local pub, the Chelsea Arts Club, or further afield. To Amsterdam, with Simon, Jill and Kate, he took Foundation and HNC students. He came to Dolce Aqua – on the painting courses. I have fond memories of us playing tennis together in temperatures of 100 degrees and trying to find students in the olive grove. He nearly didn’t make Barcelona, running to catch the plane, having decided to go only at last moment, but was ever grateful to Ramos for showing him parts of Barcelona that only Ramos knew.

He could always be persuaded to come for a drink – many of us will remember those late nights over a bottle or more of wine. He successfully dodged all political pressures with his ability to mimic and mock, which always ended in tears of laughter.

His high expectations produced really good work from people of all ages on the courses in his section and I believed and listened to his judgement - on art, people and their potential. Peter wanted the best - for the students, the department and for fine art.

We are thinking of his current students and all those he taught over the last twenty years but at this point our thoughts are with his family.



Erika's words:

Peter and I taught together for over twenty two years. More than half of that time we were a job share. We began teaching and later directing the pre-foundation in Art & Design together and subsequently the BTEC HNC in Fine Art - this was a course which Peter wrote and developed. When my daughter was born nine years ago I stopped running the course with Peter and took on a more supporting role. However we continued to work very closely together right up until his death.

There are so many things I could say about Peter, but here are just a few:

Peter was generous to a fault - he loved people - I remember many times trying to get him to end interviews which were timed for twenty minutes and were still going one and a half hours later.

He cared passionately about helping the students to identify and develop an individual voice - something he was truly gifted at.

Some of the times I remember seeing him happiest was in the studios working practically, demonstrating with a saw in his hand or showing students how to cast, albeit from a rather voluptuous female nude.

He always said “the more social the year the better the work.”

One morning about two weeks before he went on holiday I pointed out to him that in that one week there were four of our ex-students currently exhibiting in London galleries - his reply was "doesn’t it give you a warm glow inside".

Peter taught me a great deal about humour, how helpful this can be in teaching and how important it is to not take oneself too seriously. In a very recent interview practice session for the HNC when I had been "going on" for longer than I realised I turned to find him and Caroline laughing… but in a way I knew was laughing with identification with me, not at me.

He helped me to lighten up and find humour within myself - one of the many qualities I learnt from working alongside him.

Peter was like a brother to me - and to put this in some sort of context I have no siblings.

I miss him greatly and love and respect him.

I have received so many messages from students saying how much he meant to them, the difference he made. I hope he now realises how much he is loved.

I would like to now read something I personally find helpful;

A reading by Henry Scott Holland:

Death is nothing at all, I have only slipped away into the next room. I am I and you are you; whatever we were to each other that we are still. Call me by my old familiar name, speak to me in the easy way which you always used. Put no difference into your tone; wear no forced air, solemnity or sorrow. Laugh as we always laughed at the little jokes we enjoyed together. Play, smile, think of me, pray for me. Let my name be ever the household word that it always was. Let it be spoken without an effort, without the ghost of a shadow on it. Life means all that it ever meant. It is the same as it ever was; there is an absolutely unbroken continuity. I am but waiting for you, for an interval, somewhere very near, just around the corner. All is well.




Bruce's words:

Peter came to live in my house on a temporary basis while he looked for somewhere to live; that was four years ago.

Before he moved in, I only knew him as a colleague, but it was his warmth, passion, kindness and big heart that made him such a lovely person to be with and we ended up as friends. Everyone will remember his infectious laugh and wild sense of humour; my kitchen used to resound with our laughter, so much so, that my neighbour Ruby joined in just hearing it.

People have talked of his personal support for them; there was always something he had done for someone, for me he was there in the background of my most recent relationship, encouraging at the start, supporting in the middle, driving us to Gatwick Airport at 4.00am telling me that it was a slight detour for him between Streatham and Chelsea, and, in any case, he had paper work to catch up on and would go in to work early; and he was there for me at the end. His ability to be where he was most needed, when he was most needed was incredible. When we were up against the clock yesterday cutting the cards for today, I half expected him to come bustling in, like the white rabbit, and lend a hand.

When my daughter visited, she looked on him as a favourite uncle. I have a recording of them talking, Peter encouraging her to speak on wars for oil and her responding with the authority that only a five year old can have, “only baddies fight wars”.

Not a pet lover, he made friends with my cat Sally, even after she pissed in his shoes. I would come down to breakfast some mornings to hear him explaining things to her in great detail, while she simply ignored him completely. He told me it was a bit like being at work.

Finally, I am so grateful that our paths crossed. Peter was a man of real warmth and humanity, many talents (although not I.T.), someone who always had time for you, no matter what, and passionately believed in the students he supported. I will miss “Angry of Streatham” complaining about the poor use of English on TV, I will miss his heroic attempts to try and interest me in sport, I will miss the two little leather cat toilets in the hall, and most of all I will miss the big, passionate personality.