Obituaries, Eulogies, Memories & Orders of Service: #1 -2020 to 2026
Updated: Oct 15
At a meeting of the Thursley History Society early in 2025, it was agreed that the website should include a post for our many beloved villagers who are no longer with us. Our archive contains a lot of information and we shall gradually build up this entry retrospectively. If you would like to contribute any obituaries, eulogies, memories, orders of service or photographs (especially where none exist on the website) please do so via the website: https://www.thursleyhistorysociety.org/contact
Lives celebrated: Nina Allen; Tone Badcock; John Baker; Hilary Barr; Pat Barr; Richard Bates; Tich Corrigan; Salosh Edwards; Joyce Hall; Peter Hanaeur; Edmund Haviland; Elizabeth Jones; Anthony Langdale; Angela Muir; Ruth Nightingale; Herbert Perrier; John 'Tony' Scales; Jo Scheffers; Traudi Shah; Alan Sharland; Alan Traill; Philip Traill; Pia Wansborough; Jill Whitwell; Neil Woods
Herbert Percy Perrier: 22nd September 2026
This beautifully designed Order of Service was for a very special baby and can be downloaded from the pdf below.
Alan Sharland: 28th October 1962 - 26th August 2026
This brief summary of Alan's life is by his cousin, Miriam Sharland:
Alan Peter Sharland was born on 28 October 1962, the youngest child of Derek and Marjorie Sharland, and younger brother of Andrew and Paul.
Alan’s father Derek was born in what is now The Olde Hall on The Lane before his family moved to the newly built Homefields in 1937. Marjorie grew up at Wheeler’s Farm. When Derek and Marjorie were first married they lived in a caravan on the corner next to Hook Cottage, before moving into the home they shared for the rest of their lives, Chez Nous on Milford Road in Elstead. This was where Alan grew up, and it was this family home that provided the bedrock of his life. The family were frequent visitors to Homefields where Alan’s grandmother and uncle continued to live.
Alan attended St James Primary School, Elstead, Rodborough School and Godalming College, excelling both academically and at sport. He then took a BSc in physics at University College Cardiff followed by a PGCE in maths and science. This was followed by a Master’s in Values in Education at UCL Institute of Education.
Alan worked as a secondary school teacher but it was when he began volunteering as a mediator that he really found his niche. He went on to work as a mediator in various organisations in London, eventually becoming Director of Hillingdon Community Mediation, a role he held for 10 years. Alan then set up his own conflict management consultancy, CAOS. He ran a Youtube channel and podcast, and published two books. Throughout his career, Alan helped numerous people resolve conflict in their lives, while passing on his skills by training others. His influence spread far and wide, and lives on.
Alan’s star quality was demonstrated when he featured in a music video shot by a schoolfriend for a little-known band called Blue Boy – the song Remember Me went on to become a monster hit and is still being used in adverts today. He also had a winning run on TV quiz shows Countdown and Brainteaser.
While London was Alan’s home for most of his life, he was often returned home to Elstead, which offered a calming, rural contrast to his busy city life. When he was back in Surrey he loved nothing more than walking the family dog Simba across the common, or evening walks to the carpark at Hankley to listen out for nightjars, before returning for a warming cup of tea at Chez Nous. Alan would sometimes walk all the way to Thursley, and after his parents died, he often visited Thursley churchyard, where he now joins them.
This eulogy is by his cousin, Joyce Sharland:
Alan Peter Sharland came into the world at 4.05am on Sunday, October 28th 1962, the youngest child of Derek and Marjorie Sharland and little brother to Andrew and Paul.
He was a bonny baby, weighing in at 8lbs 11ozs. A friend wrote to his mum that she was sure she was ‘very proud of yourself for producing such a beautiful big boy’, adding that he ‘certainly has got a good start in life, thanks to his clever mum’.
And Alan certainly did have a good start in life. At the family home, Chez Nous, in Elstead, he grew up alongside his brothers, part of a loved and loving family as he navigated the scrapes and scraps, highs and lows of school and friendships as a child of the sixties and seventies.
His family extended further too, with a raft of aunts and uncles and cousins, most of whom lived locally, and with whom his family had frequent contact.
As one of those cousins I remember with great fondness visiting Chez Nous, revelling in the warm yet always slightly chaotic welcome we always received. I have memories of Christmases spent playing cards with the grownups for pennies, in games that often went on until late into the night. Alan loved those games, the competitive edge, the triumph of clearing the table and sweeping up all those coins into a great big pile, the scheming, the runs of luck, the laughter that eddied round us as we searched for that elusive Black Jack or third Queen to make up a winning hand. In his later life Alan often harked back to those Christmases, recalling those evenings with great fondness.
Alan excelled at school, his quick wit and intelligence earning him good grades and many friends. A keen sportsman and athlete, he broke running records and charmed his opponents on the field. I remember him at one Rodborough School sports day, winning races with ease, chatting and laughing with his mates, and always – ALWAYS – surrounded by a gaggle of adoring girls.
As a cousin, I spent a fair amount of time with Alan as a child, but my favourite memories come from a time when we were slightly older, and studying at Godalming College. Alan was working on the A-Levels that would eventually take him onto Cardiff University, and his friendship group and mine encountered each other frequently at The Star in Godalming, our pub of choice. We would take over large tables, drinking, talking, laughing and putting the world to rights as young know-it-all students tend to do, and probably royally hacking off the real grownups on neighbouring tables.
We joined the party circuit in the area, and often decamped en masse to discoes held at village halls in Elstead, Witley, Farncombe, Milford and Brook. I still carry to this day a sense of guilt about one of those events. As the group know-it-all I always got wind of these events and somehow it became my job to let everybody else know what was going on, and where. We’d have a big ring-round the night before so everybody knew what was happening. The flurry of phone calls saw me telling everyone to meet at Brook Village Hall for a Seventies fancy dress disco one Saturday night. As my dad pulled up outside the hall to drop me off I saw a group of agitated hippies marching across the car park towards us, Alan resplendent in the most outlandish Afghan coat and feather garland you’ve ever seen. They’d inadvertently gatecrashed a very sedate Bridge competition. The disco was the following week.
Although some of the crowd were understandably narked at my error, Alan took the incident in his customary easy-going way, remarking that the Star was about to be invaded by hippies instead. Sorry Alan!
That was his way of dealing with setbacks. He was a very clever, inquisitive and thoughtful man but had about him a self-deprecating way that charmed all those who met him – and he always saw the humour in any given situation.
Around that time Alan and a group of his mates formed a band – Alan taking up sticks and becoming the drummer. I remember his dad making space for his drumkit in the garage at Chez Nous, where Alan could crash and bash away to his heart’s content. They called themselves Prophet, and I recall sitting in on rehearsals as they strutted their stuff with an eye on making it big. Life took them all in different directions and the big break never happened, but they had a lot of fun pretending it would.
Our paths diverged for some time in later life but we reconnected fairly recently while clearing out Chez Nous, and enjoyed deep and wide-ranging conversations about life, the universe and everything. He had his own opinions and wasn’t afraid to voice them to those willing to listen. He was a man of conviction with an open mind and a big heart.
Family meant a great deal to Alan, and it’s fitting that we have brought him here today to be laid to rest near his mum and dad, aunts and uncles and his grandparents. Despite the paths along which his life’s journey took him and his decision to make London his home for most of his adult life he always referred back to his family roots, to his deep-seated sense of belonging in this area and of feeling grounded every time he visited Chez Nous. He loved and valued his family, and they loved and treasured him in return.
As I opened my laptop last week to write this piece the randomly-generated picture that showed up was of a boat at sunset heading across the calm waters of the sea towards a range of misty hills.
As an analogy it was fitting: I like to think of Alan now, having run his race on this earth, heading off elsewhere, taking his curiosity, intelligence, compassion and joy with him.
We’ll miss you Alan – all of us here today – but we are undoubtedly all the better for having known you.
This eulogy is by Alan's best friend, Nick Wilton:
Alan Sharland in 5 minutes
As human beings, are very complex, idiosyncratic, nuanced creatures, each with our own curious habits, contradictions and anomalies.
Alan particularly so.
How then to summarise a man as exquisitely and intricately formed and multifaceted as Alan in 300 seconds?
How do I distil a relationship spanning 50 years into 5 minutes?
Its like trying to eat an elephant with a teaspoon!
Of course, it’s Mission Impossible, and I am no Tom Cruise!
All I can do, in these brief moments, is offer my own, subjective and personal impressions of my dearest friend: a man I’ve known and loved for half a century and who enriched my life.
What follows are just a few snapshots: a few frames from an epic film!
That said, I hope you’ll recognise aspects of his character, and smile, as we commune together to remember our fallen Prince.
So who was Alan Sharland?
1 - Alan the Explorer
Alan had a sharp intellect and an inquisitive mind.
He had an unquenchable thirst for knowledge and a life-long curiosity about the world, and especially the world of ideas. Whether it was Zen / Reiki / Homeopathic Medicine / Keto & Intermittent Fasting / the Bates Method / Tai Chi / mediation or meditation, Alan was passionate about his interests and pursued them with relish and gusto.
He would expound the merits of turmeric / garlic / cloves / Hibiscus, Hawthorne or of water fasting with enthusiasm and animation. He never stopped exploring and delighted in discovering new ideas. Nor were his interests restricted to the intellectual. He could also wax lyrical about the size, texture, succulence and taste of his courgettes or what natural composts and fertilizers or irrigation regime he’d used to best effect. Whatever he was into he pursued with passion, energy and enthusiasm. He loved life. Even during the dark days of his illness, Alan discovered a treatment involving tuning forks on the temples so had to try it!
2 - Alan : Champion of Truth & Justice
Alan was not a religious man, in the conventional sense, but he had a very finely tuned moral compass. His sense of justice was not legalistic or codified, indeed Alan loathed bureaucratic authority badly applied, but rather that innate sense of fair play and fairness. When Alan encountered an injustice particularly, where there was an imbalance of power, he would lock on, like a Jack Russell terrier. That fearlessness, that tenacity, that dogged determination and moral courage was something I always admired about him when he fought for what he believed to right, whether for himself or for those who needed his help. Yet it was always about principle and he was always respectful even when handling difficult issues and difficult people he maintained that basic respect for his fellow human beings.
3 - Alan the Joker
Alan was passionate and principled it is true, but to characterise him as a dour stoic : earnest and pure but boring, would be to diminish his lightness and levity. On the contrary, Alan was always up for a laugh, and how we laughed! His sense of fun and his willingness to engage with the ludicrous, lunacy of living was infectious and invigorating. I have many stories, but they won’t fit in 5 minutes, and some are rude! Whether we were dancing in sweaty village halls not far from here, or ruminating on life’s inner meaning on Godalming train platform, after 3 pints of best bitter in the Star, in our late teens; or interrailing across Europe, enjoying wine, women and song whilst at university, or exploring the wilds of Devon and Exmoor, or the castles of Northumbria, or the mountains, churches and bars of Zermatt as young men, we had so much of fun….
He was always the best company and never took himself too seriously.
4 - Alan: the Carer and the Shepherd
For all his other virtues though, perhaps his finest quality was his love and kindness, his empathy and compassion and here I want to borrow from the bible (Corinthians 13:4-5).
“Love is patient, love is kind.
It does not envy,
is not self seeking,
it is not easily angered,
it keeps no record of wrongs”. Alan embodied these words. I saw the way he cared for his father, Derek, when he was dying, for his mother and brothers,
and I was myself a beneficiary of his patient love and care, when negotiating periods of darkness in my own life.
Alan was always there for me,
offering support, but never judgement,
empathy but never prescriptive or critical,
and for that I shall always be grateful.
He was the best friend anyone could wish for and, like all of us in this room, I miss him enormously, but as Alfred Lord Tennyson said,
“better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all.”
To love is to expose ourselves to the grief and loss of parting, but I’d not have had it any other way.
Alan said he wanted to be remembered, I know I shall never forget him and I dare say you all feel the same.
He was a unique and very special human being and he lives in my mind.
I feel his presence, not in a paranormal way, but because I know what he’d has said in any given situation.
We that survive him will never forget him, but our lives were the richer for his presence.
Goodbye my dear, dear brother. I shall miss you greatly.
Order of Service:
Gertraud "Traudi" Luise Shah, 15th September 1942 - 17th June 2026
John Anthony Scales, 'Tony', 3rd January 1941-12th February 2026
Tony Scales's sons, Ben & Tim, gave this eulogy, part of which is below: the complete eulogy is in the pdf:
Growing up in Yorkshire
John Anthony Scales was born on 3rd January 1941 in the village of Knaresborough in Yorkshire, the son of Cameron and Nellie and the 2nd of 3 boys. He grew up with his brothers Bob and Peter in an atmosphere of healthy, fraternal competition which spilt over into lively confrontation on a regular basis. The Scales brothers would earn themselves something of a reputation in and around Harrogate in later years (although he might claim that this was more by association than by personal merit).
School
His formative years were spent in Yorkshire and he remained a proud Yorkshireman throughout his life. Boarding school first at Terrington Hall and then at Sedburgh (then still part of West Yorkshire), where the beauty of the natural surroundings was offset by a Spartan regime which involved being fully submerged in a cold bath each morning, punishing cross-country runs up hill and down dale (the famous “10”), and rugby in all weathers, including deep snow. He told us that he was ready for pretty much anything after that and Anne recalls that he subsequently particularly enjoyed running downhill recreating the thrill (and relief no doubt) of careering down hillsides at school.
Robin Gourlay remembers him at Sedburgh as quiet, musical, popular and responsible, someone who never seemed to get into trouble and who came into his own as a mediator, settling arguments between warring factions (notably Hunt House versus School House). Perhaps a precursor for his career in law.
Oxford
He left Yorkshire after winning a place to read law at University College, Oxford, an achievement of which his parents were immensely proud, and intrepidly made the long trip down on a scooter which became his preferred means of transport. At Oxford, he continued to play rugby, and also rowed for the college eight under the watchful eye of the cox, Stephen Hawking. My godfather David Pullen remembers him as a very fast and elusive winger (although not very good at tackling) as well as a very light (11 and a half stone – “almost unheard of”) bow in the college eight. Thank you, David, and thank you also for introducing Dad to Mum (without which we wouldn’t be standing here). And actually, we also wanted to acknowledge how happy we are that Mum and Dad were eventually able to rekindle their friendship and thank Anne and Gervase for encouraging this – it has meant a huge amount to the three of us, just as we know it has to Mum.
Sutter Creek
In 1963, Dad pushed back his start date in London by a year and travelled to California to work as a Maths and English teacher in the old Gold Rush town of Sutter Creek. He supplemented his teaching wages by working at weekends as a cashier in the casinos of Taho, and in forestry, where he worked felling and stripping logs. He recounted that on one occasion, he was following the tractor up hill, when a chain supporting its load of logs snapped, releasing its cargo to roll down the hill. Were it not for Dad’s natural prowess as a high hurdler, we might also not be standing here today!
Edward John Baker, "John", 21st July 1934 - 13th March 2026
Pia Wansborough, 7th November 1938 - 10th February 2026
Richard Charles Bates 12th February 1943 - 4th January 2026
This tribute was written by the family and read by the Celebrant, Paul Winder:
Richard Bates - A Life Well Lived
Richard grew up in the World War 2 bombed streets of London’s East End with his Dad, a bus conductor following his service in the War, Mum, a seamstress, and his younger sister Dorothy. One of his academic achievements was to pass the 11+ exam and be accepted into the local Grammar School where he made lifelong friends. His Uncle Albert was an early inspiration. He spoke Arabic, played the piano, painted and knew artists like the writer Laurie Lee.
Richard also took up oil painting and played the clarinet but it was his desire to see beyond the claustrophobic East End that defined him. Early on he loved cycling to Epping Forest where he read The Sunday Times from front to back, a routine he kept his whole life. His social and organisational skills meant he was the one to get his school friends out and about, starting off with youth-hostelling in Britain but he soon had sights on tougher challenges. At 21 he cycled up Norway, in winter, as far as the Arctic Circle with Graham. Word had got round about his trip and at the top he was greeted by a newspaper journalist and a British diplomat. Another trip in his early twenties was with a group of mates driving through Europe, ending up working in a hotel restaurant by Lake Geneva.
While living at home he worked in the City and in the evenings studied for a Drawing Practice & Machine Design Diploma which allowed him to work as a Draughtsman. However he wasn’t going to work in an office in the City for the rest of his life, so at 26 the travelling bug infected him again, this time with the grand idea of an overland trip to Australia. He advertised in the paper and went with two girls and Sean Sinnott, an Irish guitar playing singer, who stayed a lifelong dear friend. Richard did most of the driving in a converted Bedford Dormobile, christened Rosinante (from Don Quixote).
This was the journey of a lifetime, nearly having to give up in the snow in Turkey and getting very ill in India but eventually they made it to Sydney, Australia, the land of opportunity, a world away from Stepney Green. Richard took a job in a drawing office, living over Bondi Beach and made close, life-long friends in John Egger and Richard Debenham. From then on he was known as Dicko! Geoff Prouse, an old school friend asked Richard to help him run a supermarket in Darwin, then a remote town in the outback of Northern Australia. Richard was in his element here as his social skills made him a Pom everyone could like, even if he did have to knock out the occasional Aborigine who’d had too much to drink!
In 1974 Cyclone Tracy flattened Darwin. He was a driving force in helping the Red Cross in the aftermath but eventually he decided to come home.
In the late Seventies, a trip to Egypt provided the setting for Richard to meet Nicki, a nurse and former air hostess. And though they came from different backgrounds, they shared a love of travelling and doing things their way.
After marriage in Farnham they found a run-down cottage in Thursley, backing on to Thursley Common. They thought it would be a great place to raise a family. Richard learnt squash in Australia and his entrepreneurial skills and love of sport meant he wasn’t satisfied working as a draughtsman for a company, so he decided to start up his own Squash & Sports Club. Squash was a sport that hadn’t taken off yet in 1980’s England and he saw the business potential and health benefits for all.
Then his two sons came along, James, then Andrew, and with Dingo the dog he was living a life he could never have imagined growing up in the East End. Richard installed a wood burner that connected to the radiators in the house and he was very proud of his money saving idea. In return for volunteering on Thursley Common, the wardens allowed him to use his prized Land Rover to collect any spare wood available. It became a life-time passion to spend most of his free time collecting, cutting and burning wood! He struck up a close friendship with James Giles, the Natural England Warden. The family enjoyed many cycling holidays throughout Europe, fond memories for all.
When Richard retired a new life opened up for him as he now had the time to get to know the village and villagers. With his East End charm and famous sense of humour he was equally at home with everyone. He soon became the Village Hall Grand Quizmaster and ran a Table Tennis Club for over 10 years. He volunteered to mow the grass in the village for the Parish Council and also enjoyed helping the Churchyard Working Party.
Richard was a self-made man. He grew up in humble surroundings and made the best of his time. He ventured out into the world with a smile for everyone and a bad joke for those who would listen!
His attitude meant he was accepted wherever he went. A life well-lived.
Richard's sons, James and Andrew, also delivered moving eulogies which can be read in the pdf below:
Ruth Irwin Nightingale, 9th July 1931 - 27th October 2025
Honor Marion Jill Whitwell, 'Jill' 16th September 1934 - 24th August 2025
The eulogy was delivered by Jill's son, Kevin Osgood, part of which is below: the complete eulogy is in the pdf:
Thank you all for joining us here today to celebrate the life of Jill Whitwell, my Mum.
Jill was born Honor Marion Jill Temple on 16th September 1934. She was born at home in an upstairs room of her parents’ guest house, The Temple Lounge, in West Street, Farnham where she grew up alongside her elder brothers, Ranger and Nigel, who were 13 and 8 years her senior respectively.
Her parents were Sydney and Honor Temple and at the age of 16 Sydney had been blinded during a rugby match at Dulwich College and subsequently devoted much of his life to charity work for the Royal National Institute for the Blind. Jill also immersed herself in this, teaching blind people the art of chair caning and making wicker baskets, something she returned to in later life.
Jill was almost five when Britain declared war on Germany and within a year Farnham was suffering from the fallout of bombing missions more likely targeting the surrounding areas of Brooklands, Farnborough, Aldershot, Bordon and Odiham, all having military or air bases.
Her parents’ cellar was converted into an air raid shelter where locals would cram in during nighttime bombing raids.
At 5 years old it was time to start school at St. Andrew’s in Farnham. Jill developed a distaste for school on her first day which set the pattern for the next three years. She could already read and write quite well and on her first day the class had to write their names, addresses and their parents’ names. Jill was sent to see Mrs Burrows, the headmistress, for arguing that she had not misspelt her father’s name (it was Sydney and NOT Sidney). By lucky coincidence Mrs Burrows lived at the Temple Lounge during term time and confirmed that Jill was, in fact, correct but this injustice stuck in her craw for the remaining three years at the school.
By 1942 her parents had decided that the town was too dangerous for a child of that age and they would move her away from the bombings. She was sent to St. Ursula’s, a girls’ boarding school in the local village of Grayshott which was considered outside the bombers’ flight paths.
She immediately took to the head mistress, Mrs Stevenson, who had a little dog, Craddock, who Jill was given almost sole charge of during term time. You can imagine how much she enjoyed that responsibility.
I can find no record of this school so due to her mischievous nature I teased her many times that she must have been mistaken, and the school was really called St Trinian’s. She told me recently that she was amongst several girls who used to escape through the dormitory window to attend the dance at the local village hall before returning to bed as if nothing had happened.
Jill later attended the Guildford Technical College and qualified in Catering in 1952 and Restaurant Management the following year and found employment cooking for the many residents of Farnham’s Moor Park House which had been used as a billet for Canadian troops in the war and was being refurbished by a Canon Parsons whilst being used as a Christian adult education college.
Angela Muir MW 29th September 1948 - 14th July 2025
We were all saddened to hear of the death in Cyprus on July 15th of Angela Muir, widow of Peter who was for several years Associate Vicar of St Michael and All Angels Thursley. Many of us will remember their legendary hospitality both at Yew Cottage, The Three Horseshoes and at Church, and that Angela was not only a world-renowned Master of Wine, but also a superb cook. They were greatly missed in the village when, in 2019, they decided to emigrate permanently to Cyprus.
Angela showed early talent by winning the Vintners Scholarship in 1977, enabling her to travel around Europe for six months studying wine, finally becoming a Master of Wine in 1980, a considerable achievement, especially for a woman, in those days. She spent eight years in the Wine Merchant Division of John Harvey and Sons in Bristol followed by ten years as overseas buyer for Grants of St James and Victoria Wine. After this, she set up in her own business called Cellarworld with Peter, travelling the world as a wine consultant, helping producers both in Europe and South America to make their wines more saleable in the export market. Few people realised that one of her many intellectual talents was as a linguist, which made travelling easier for her. She has truly left her mark on the wine industry as an educator of future Masters of Wine, many of whom have left glowing tributes to her rigorous and meticulous training, but also mentioning her kindness and the selfless gift of her time in helping them to achieve their goal. There have also been a number of lengthy articles in the Cypriot press written with great fondness by her friends in the wine industry there recalling her immense talent and enormous contribution to their success over the years.
Angela fell in love with Cyprus many years ago when she was employed by the industry to improve the quality of their wine making, so when they moved there, we were delighted that they chose a house in the same village in which we have had a holiday home for over twenty years. We joked that we lived almost exactly the same distance from each other as we did in Thursley. Their house has a magnificent view of a large area of the south coast west of Paphos towards the Akamas peninsula and they loved to sit on their balcony with a glass of something rather good to enjoy the magnificent sunsets for which Cyprus is famous. They soon were absorbed into the large expat community, playing lots of bridge and Angela also joined the ladies gastronomy circle where she soon became a leading light. She also kept up with her contacts with the local wineries, a number of whom she had helped for many years. It was an eye opener to have the privilege of accompanying her to some of these, she was treated like royalty and they hung on her every word. It was also educational, on one occasion, at a rather grand establishment, she tasted a particular supposedly single grape varietal and announced that there was a percentage of another grape in it. An embarrassed owner huffed that he had added 2% to smooth it out, at which Angela looked at him over her glasses, and enquired whether he had forgotten that perhaps it was 5%. An embarrassed vigneron turned bright red in the face and admitted that she was, of course, correct.
Peter’s sudden death on New Year’s Eve 2022 came as a terrible shock and Angela’s health suffered very badly. She became completely incapacitated and spent a considerable period in Hospital. When she came home, she had the help of constant carers to look after her. One particularly wonderful friend took over the organisation of her life and I do not know what would have happened without her devoted attention. Angela gradually and bravely fought her way back to better health and was able to get about to play bridge and see friends, even managing the cruise that they both had looked forward to. Her end seems to have been peaceful, she was found by one of her carers in bed, the inevitable book still in hand. Peter once said to me “There is only one Angela!” and he was right. RIP great lady.
Hilary Joy Denholm Barr, 3rd May 1945 - 12th January 2025
Hilary's obituary in Thursley Parish Magazine, May 2025
Order of Service:
Pete Hanauer 26th September 1946 - 15th December 2024
There were tributes to Pete from family and friends as well as poem. The tribute below from Dick Lowther, a friend and former colleague, is reproduced in full:
Peter
Warm, generous, witty Peter - 47 YEARS MY FRIEND. We took many paths together but then you trod many more.
Memories of you, glued in my souvenirs, coming back as sure as swifts in summer. As surely as the seeds you sowed in your veg plot - from the smooth bean to the wrinkled pea. Some forgotten for a time, but greeted with joy when they pop up again.
I met you in the autumn of 77 in Farnham the same day as Brad, who is also here today. You were a new student, yet already rich with experience. Your second bite of the art school cherry.
With your generosity and effortless way of making friends - witness this turnout - I soon found myself enjoying the delightful company of Pete. And of Sandra, of Rachel, and Sam.
You brought with you a history and an inquisitive mind, tempted by a new path trusting it would lead somewhere - a characteristic of art students, We who took a stroll with out a care, never knowing how we’ll fare. How I wish I had met the much younger you. But the music of Hole Cottage gave me a rewarding glimpse into the lay of your land.
This shared musicality led us to - Springsteen in Paris, Leonard in Lyon, Baez in Portsmouth, Dylan in London
You fared well at Farnham as glassblowing caught your breath. Those fiery workshops set you on another new path, one that would take you to the Royal College of Art. I recognized early on that you were someone respectful of tradition, yet always open to the modern. Even those paintings you worked on for Bridgit Riley where beautifully hand crafted.
Two years later, our paths crossed again — this time with greater consequence. I was scouting for talent for Epsom when we met at your Royal College show. I proposed part-time teaching , wanting you to have days to continue creating your beautiful glasswork. But you wanted a full-time job. The principal, on looking into your box of glasswork, pounced on you.
And so we worked together again. I confess I bear the responsibility for England losing a talented glassblower — but there are many many students, some here today I believe, who would thank me for that. You anchored yourself at Epsom, devoting your days to teaching, guiding, listening to and inspiring others.
You became a weekly presence in my life once more: the kind, charming committed colleague, a steadfast friend.
But my most treasured memories are of Hole Cottage. Descending the track from the A3 always brought the anticipation of the warmest of welcomes, your hand held high and the ever-open back door. The country kitchen, where much was talked of and chuckled at. A small corner of England you and Sandra have long been caring for - a place for people, animals, and birds and celebration. At one point a homestead of black sheep, black chickens, black pigs, black cat, and Blackberry the cow. The crows and blackbirds were well impressed. Green finches and blue tits not so much.
Warm welcome and warm nights nights too, often a new year’s eve, much enlivened by the grape. Once you put me to bed in front of the open fire and closed all the doors. I woke up smelling like an Arbroath Smokie for a day. Another example of your commitment to a country craft and love of food the cottage always brings to mind. But whilst Spotted Dick is is a famous english pudding, Kippered Dick has yet to make it to a menu.
And the barn - multifunctional, ever-evolving. At times it housed vintage vehicles, a cinema, a dance floor, an illicit still, and Sandra’s six-star restaurant. Above it all, your little studio - the elevated man cave filled with books, art, and bits of this and mementos of that, gathered with care. Surrounding it all the the perfect summer-party garden.
Not too far away were the cricket grounds, grand at Lord’s or modest in Thursley, where we could slow our life down for an hour or a day. Along with morning dog walks and pub lunches.
You identified with, and reintroduced me to, the culture of rural England. You would probably have been wassailing this month where it not for why we are here.
Your talent you wore lightly. but there was always a reminder of it - in your delightfully drawn birthday and Christmas cards, your graceful handwriting instantly recognizable on the envelope.
These are not just nostalgic memories - they are an appreciation of a life well-lived, rooted in craft yet open to innovation. Life is a collection of meandering paths, with missteps along the way. Yet we leave footprints in the sands of time. You, of course, would modestly deny this. But Peter, you and Sandra have made your small corner of England a better place, filled with goodness.
For Sandy and Rachel and Sam there will now be the undone years as Wilfred Owen called them - not just the years that Pete will not now do, but those which you will not now experience. But they will be enriched because you new and loved him and he was there. He will be still be there - invisible but you will be able to call on memories and be guided by his humanity, his generosity, his humour, his ease with people, young and old, whatever path they found themselves on.
So lets not whine at death but withstand it ( so wrote that gloomy poet of my home town Philip Larkin) and celebrate Pete’s life and be thankfully happy that his paths crossed ours.
So I say Fare thee well, Pete. I will miss you terribly.
Two examples of Pete's
glass-blowing in the V&A
This eulogy was from a close neighbour, Jo Kelly:
For me Pete was a friend and neighbour, a fellow valley dweller and wassailer, a muddy biking buddy and member of the Help in Thursley team, a litter picking organiser and ever friendly greeter of my horses and dogs.
Pete was our runner bean supplier and bringer of mice for our barn owl - (although I am not sure that the Amazon drivers ever got used to the surprise of dead mice looking up at them from a flowerpot in our parcel bin!). A long-standing dog grooming client (he and Stanley were the only two who thought that my haircuts with horse clippers were acceptable, albeit after a couple of weeks regrowth!).
He had been the previous keeper of our Land Rover, and a few years later with Sandy, crept in at the crack of dawn in a snow blizzard to decorate it for our wedding. He was also the village illustrator and creator of the most beautiful and memorable Christmas Cards.
As you all know Pete wore many hats!
Anyone who witnessed Pete and my relationship will know it consisted of a lot of banter and a very dubious sense of humour. I fear he has gained the last laugh looking down on me here today trying to hold it all together.
I was deeply touched, honoured and daunted when Sandy asked me to say a few words. How on earth do you do justice to Pete and his life? So I googled the definition of “a life well lived”. One version was, “more people have benefitted from your presence than not”. And BLIMEY! - didn’t we all benefit?!
I’m sure that every one of you here can’t reflect on Pete’s time in your life, however long or short, even those fleeting interactions, without smiling and recalling his ever cheery chat and endless positivity.
That is a life well lived.
If we all tried to live our lives a bit more like Pete ….. that would be a truly great legacy.
Philip George Traill: 8th November 1965 - 8th September 2024
Joyce Dulcie Hall: 12 July 1931 - 21st February 2024
This eulogy was delivered by her son, Simon:
After 63 wonderful years of life at South house Mum at the young age of 92 left the building for the last time and amazingly, she did it without the use of her wheelchair! Joyce was known to many of us as Joy and it’s because she brought so much Joy and laughter to all of us. 11 years ago, we converted South house so mum could stay at the family home, it also meant that there would be now 3 generations living under one roof, plus one cat called Harry who she didn’t like very much. Harry however was very fond of mum and he showed it by bringing in the odd, mouse, bird and frog. This was not appreciated at all!
Mum loved people and after living on her own for several years, South house was again a busy household. Both Amanda, my wife, and mum had a passion for gardening, and this was a strong bond right to the end. In the last few years childhood Polio came back, which meant mum could not get about like she used to. But seeing her plants and garden every day meant as much to her as also been able to do the Times sudoku most of the day and every day.
We have had some wonderful times together and some great parties that many of you here will have attended. Mum loved a party; she also loved her music particularly the Austrian conductor and violinist Andre Rieu. She watched his concerts on television religiously every Sunday and Monday evening without her hearing aids on very, very loudly! Often my daughter Hannah or son Nathanial would have to come down at midnight and say “Please Granny turn the volume down! I have school in the morning”.
Oddly very late in life. in fact, this year Mum suddenly went with a conversion from classical Strauss music to the Rolling Stones. This time it was my turn to be woken up at one o’clock in the morning as BBC4 were running a tribute back-to-back of all the band’s songs to the early hours of the morning. Though her hearing was not very good she always denied this, it was more the case people just mumble these days. As Mike Jaggar shouted out “I can’t get no satisfaction” pumped out at full volume. It was my turn to plead for her to turn it down as had an early start for work the next day. Whereas she replied, “Aren't they good very, very good. Such nice young men and so well dressed!”. I could not spoil that image, that rock stars very rarely wear suits anymore and as for Mick Jaggar well, he is only a few years younger than mum!!
As mum’s world became smaller the number of visitors became bigger and bigger. My sister Ardiana would visit from Australia every year for 4 – 6 weeks also staying at South House and brother Chris would come down from London every second weekend taking her on magical tours around the local countryside. Most Sundays it was either a roast lunch with us or with her sister Ardri in Farnham.
One of mum’s oldest friends Jennifer now lives in Australia but used to live in Bramley and share early school days at St. Catherines school. Jen gave a wonderful rose that was planted outside her bedroom window. Mum often used to remark how amazing that the petals managed to hang on for so long like her friendship too Jen and all the wonderful friends she has had.
I feel very privileged to have had joy for all my life and proud to be called my mum. The last years of life the carers at Right at Home became also a very much part of our family and I would like to read out to you a poem written by one of them:
This second eulogy was delivered by Joyce's elder son, Christopher, and can be downloaded from the pdf below:
Basil Hamilton Barr 'Pat': 7th April 1935 - 7th February 2024
Andrew and Stephen Barr's eulogy for their father:
Andrew:
Dad was born 7th April, 1935 in Aldershot to an Irish father and English mother who came from Churt and Dad never really left this area. His father, Walter who was known as Stan, was born in Derry City at the turn of the last century in what is now Northern Ireland. Like many of his generation there was little for him in Ireland and following the partition Stan joined the British Army as part of the Royal Army Medical Corps. Consequently Dad’s early family life was spent at the Aldershot and then Hong Kong Garrisons before Stan returned to England at the start of the war.
Dad was always extremely proud of his Irish heritage and was in contact with his cousins throughout his life, including some memorable family visits to Donegal where it was clear where he got his sense of humour from. His given name was actually Basil - but he was universally known as Pat or Paddy . This fascinated us as children, and we would interrogate him, and he would say we could only call him Basil when he became Sir Basil. Dad was the second of three children. The eldest Derek sadly died in the 1990’s but his younger sister Dorothy aka Dilys, survives him and is here with us today.
At the start of the war Stan was on active service and in 1940, following the evacuation of Dunkirk was captured and remained a prisoner until close to the end of the war when he returned unexpectedly on a prisoner exchange, only to be sent straight back after D-Day. So Dad’s early life was spent without a father and he grew up in service quarters with few comforts and probably not a lot of money. It was a tough start and I believed it explains a lot about his drive and determination to get a good education in order to provide a good life for himself and his family. Dad never took anything for granted and was always extremely hard working, successful and careful with money. But he was also very generous and often funny. I remember his typical wit when asked if he had waited long for his much anticipated new convertible he responded – oh about 50 years!
In 1952, Dad was called up for national service and joined the Royal Marines. After completing the Commando course and earning his green beret, he followed Derek into 42 Commando and together they were on active service in the Suez crisis. I think it is fair to say that Dad was more bon vivant than commando, a polar opposite to his elder brother, and we don’t think he much enjoyed the experience – but it resonated strongly with him for the rest of his life, and he was very proud of having been a Royal Marine.
Following National Service Dad got a job with the Lloyd’s Policy Signing office in Chatham. From there he worked as a junior cargo broker at Maurice Tozer and Beck before moving to John Holman & Sons - a family business that historically included shipowning and insurance businesses. During his holiday’s Dad was involved with the Royal Show working in the accounts department. No doubt this was to earn extra money, but we think it was where and certainly around the time he met Jean Huxley, our mother. Pat and Jean got married, in 1960. They settled in Godalming and had three children in fairly short order me (Andrew), Julia and Stephen.
Stephen:
The City was a big part of Dad’s life and I look back with affection on the few years that Dad and I worked together in Lloyd’s. I saw a lot of him and got to know another side to his character, the business side. He was well respected, always immaculately dressed and set a great example to those around him. We would meet regularly in Lloyd’s or over breakfast at 8am or for lunch, usually a salad. Occasionally I would persuade him to come out for a curry or we would meet up with colleagues in a wine bar, but he was always busy and had somewhere to be!
It hadn’t always been like that apparently. He told me that in his early days in the city junior brokers didn’t get a desk or telephone. They merely acted as runners, carrying instructions from the Senior broker, which in turn were received by telex from clients. During quiet they were advised to stay well clear of the office returning at 4pm for the day’s final instructions. This gave the young Pat enormous latitude to go missing in action. He and his friends would embark on adventures including in the East End, exploring bombsites from the war and drinking at pubs along the way such as the Capt Kidd, City of Ramsgate and Propect of Whitby generally returning at 4pm dirty and a few pints the worse of wear!
Pat and Jean built a provincial insurance business alongside his city career calling it Hamilton Barr. It was successful and in time John Denner, an old friend of Dad’s, was hired as Managing Director to run it so that Dad could focus on his day job. The business was a great success and some years later Dad met Michael Wade and they eventually sold Holmans and Hamilton Barr to Clarkson’s shipping. The rest is just history, but it would be remiss not to mention Voyager which Dad and a number of his colleagues (Aubrey Abbott, John Peters and others) started in the1990’s and which continues to thrive today.
Dad made many friends in his business life and travelled frequently, particularly to Canada and the USA. Some of those people became our friends too and I still have a number of city acquaintances whose first job was with Dad in Marine insurance. As children we had a very happy existence and I particularly remember the wonderful holidays we had together in Cornwall and France. Dad was completely different on holiday, and seemed to be able to completely relax.
Sadly his first marriage to our mother Jean, was not to last. Dad moved to London and we remained at the family home. As we entered our teenage years he still kept a close eye on us and was never too far away, particularly it seemed, if we were doing something wrong. In about 1979, Hilary Dalby (Hilly, Mook, or just Bill to us) came into our lives. Her ability to keep Dad on the straight and narrow earned her his nick name “The Old Bill” and so it was that she became known to us as just Bill. Easy to explain in this day and age that your father’s married to someone called Bill, maybe not so back then! With Bill came Piers, Heather, Sonya and Ray and their families. I know that Dad was thankful to have met Hilary’s parents and for the relationships they both enjoyed with her family over many years. Pat and Hilary built a wonderful life together over 43 years of marriage, establishing their homes at Vean Cottage in Thursley and in Pimlico, before moving to The Old Vicarage and finally to Wild Goose Cottage.
In Surrey they built a wide network of friends. Dad loved fine wine and as an aside, his former colleague Aubrey reminded Hilary how on one occasion he requisitioned the air conditioning unit in Aubrey’s office for use in his new wine cellar to avert what I think you might call a temperature violation! Over many years together they earned a reputation for hosting fabulous dinner parties marking every milestone with an amazing celebration. Dad and Hilary became accomplished golfers (Hilary arguably better than Dad – I can say that now!) spending a lot of time at West Surrey where they were both Captains. I used to play golf with them both from time to time and I remember Dad, a stickler for etiquette, becoming truly exasperated by the number of practice swings I took at the hallowed tees of West Surrey Golf Club when we entertained some city colleagues!
Andrew
Lastly we want to reflect on how happy Dad and Hilary were together over such a long period time, how common endeavours like owning a share in the pub, being part of this village, golf, entertaining and travel were the bedrock of a very successful marriage and we know that Hilary has been touched to receive so many lovely letters of condolence and reminiscence. Many talk about Dad’s wit, dry / waspish sense of humour and his quick-witted bonhomie while celebrating what a brilliant team they were at the very heart of the village social circle.
Stephen
Dad was well read and well versed in current affairs and had a sharp wit. He loved telling jokes, particularly those entailing an accent of some description! He was thoughtful and generous, wanting no fanfare for people he helped over the years, such as my maternal grandmother. We all knew that in a crisis (generally a financial one) you could always talk to him and he would help. But he wasn’t one to shy away from pointing out the error of your ways, which was the price you paid but it was generally well intentioned and just our Dad.
Neil Geoffrey Lankester Woods: 7th September 1959 - 26th October 2023
From Thursley Parish Magazine, January 2024
Anthony Julian Langdale 22nd March 1945 - 20th June 2023
Salosh Edwards 12th July 1947 - 16th April 2023
Sean Edwards's eulogy for Salosh:
My eulogy should talk about what a wonderful person Salosh was, and the wonderful life we had. And how desperately I miss her. But everybody here knows that.
So what follows here is a background to the small ‘Picture Tribute’ slide-show that follows, and that has no commentary. With a lot of imagination you will see glimpses of our life together. Each of the 25 slides, in chronological order, has a year and a location on it. So for much of the 56 years that we were together, there are no pictures.
It all started in 1967, on the King’s Road, Chelsea. Well, not exactly on it, but just a metre away, at a ‘Do’ at Chelsea College when I first saw Salosh, in a Mary Quant dress, across the proverbial crowded room. Salosh was 20 and I was 24. We chatted, and at the end of the evening we agreed to meet again. And we never separated after that.
It was four years after that first meeting, when we were both living together in Bangor, that we realised we hadn’t got married – well, this was the ‘sixties, remember. So we did, in Anglesea. Salosh was studying at Keele, and I at Bangor, but an old banger (at Bangor) served to keep us sufficiently together.
My parents farmed from 1947 in Thursley, where we regularly stayed, and so Salosh was a ‘Thursley girl’ from 1967. I include two Thursley pictures from 1974, from Gibbet Hill (bilberry picking), and from the Three Horse Shoes where we will shortly hold the wake. And pictures from around Manchester where we both worked for 31 years. And then from Vine Cottage in Thursley where we lived for the last 19 years. And photos from Harpenden where our daughter Kitty, her husband Mic and their daughters Maia and Elena (all here today) live. And from Germany and Austria where her three sisters (all here today) live.
Salosh’s career was hard, as a Local Authority Mental Health Social Worker, doing the Sections under the Mental Health Act. She was both tough and compassionate, always putting her clients first even if it meant fighting the Authority. Which it often did.
Socially she mixed easily, but was never really part of any group. She was absolutely her own person. Her relaxations included walking and oil painting. And happy happy meandering holidays, mostly in the south of France, staying in somewhat dilapidated rural cottages, eating in small family-run restaurants, and picnics in sunny orchid-filled fields. At home, she loved her gardening, especially her roses – every one was scented.
Salosh was my muse, but so much more than that. On our rambles it would be she who would spot a new plant or animal, or see a magical view that I had missed. She would sit and sketch or wander off to find more, whilst I photographed her finds. I am lost without her.
My illustrations were technical and accurate, but Salosh’s paintings were the opposite. I would say “That tree’s not like that”, but Salosh would reply that to her it felt like that. They had a soul that I could never convey, and that soul was Salosh’s. In the following Tribute, I include two of her paintings that she did from Thursley Common and from France.
The final slide of the Tribute is of Salosh on the Common this year, at sunset, just two months before going to the Phyllis Tuckwell Hospice. This image symbolises to me the utter anguish of her going away, for ever.
Josephine Jean Scheffers, "Jo": 21st December 1929 - 3rd April 2023
Reverend Peter Muir: 21st April 1949 - 30th December 2022
Tone Badcock: 27th June - 29th December 2022
MUM'S STORY
Tone Iris Berner Badcock Née Bond
Mum was born in Falmouth, Cornwall in 1925, her mother Tula was Norwegian and her father, Douglas, was English. Mum’s Norwegian heritage meant a lot to her and as a young child she lived in Norway for a few years where she learned the language and to ski and skate. Mum also recalled enjoying some birthday parties at the royal palace. Her Grandfather had been a Norwegian politician and Uncle Jacob was a double International at football and ice hockey. The family finally settled in the UK at Parkstone where her brother Erik and sister Eva were born.
Mum had an idyllic childhood saying she spent most of her time upside down walking on her hands - a free spirit. In the latter years she told me of a story of when she worked at a riding stable. One day the owner said Tone, I want you to ride this horse to the blacksmith's to be shoed. Mum rode bare back across the Dorset downs on a beautiful day, never seeing a soul and described it as one of the most memorable days of her life.
The family were keen sportsmen something Mum inherited. Her cousin David Bond became the first GB Yachtsman to win an Olympic gold medal. Mum’s father Dougie was the secretary at Parkstone Golf Club for 25 years. Her parents were county golfers with single handicaps and all three children,
went on to have a love of golf. Overlooking the clubhouse is a picturesque lake and it was here Mum and her siblings learnt to swim. Her mother tied a rope around their waists before telling them to get in the lake and swim. Many years later, on trip to Norway we drove past a lake. Mum shouted, “STOP the car, Rodney”, she got out, stripped off and jumped in the lake. I followed but on finding the water freezing cold and with none of the buoyancy salt water provides ,I quickly got out.
Mum left school in 1943 volunteering to join the Wrens, saying she fancied the uniform! She was sent up to HMS Cabbala a signal school near Warrington and qualified as a coder in cypher. One night in June 1944 she decoded a message which said, “Our small boats have sailed”. It signalled D Day. She took the message to the duty officer feeling very proud.
Before being posted overseas she spent some time in London. She stayed at Crosby Hall sleeping in the corridor with tin hat and gas mask at the ready with the doodlebugs being dropped every night. She then boarded a troop ship for a six-week voyage to Ceylon and describes feeling much safer. The journey to the Far East turned out to be the first troop ship to go through the Suez Canal since the allies retook control. The convey split, Mum continued safely but sadly the other half of the convey went under heavy torpedo attack.
In Ceylon there was a Mess social, worthy of mention where she drank too much resulting in her dancing on the table and being unfit for duty the next day. This is probably the reason why she drank very little alcohol ever again.
Mum worked on Lord Mountbatten’s staff, and this was where she met Rodney our father. He proposed in Raffles Hotel and in August 1947 they married. Having accrued leave they had a six month honeymoon staying in Oak Cottage in Thursley, returning to Rodney’s childhood village
Children duly arrived, first Wendy then Jill with me arriving last. Our formative years were spent in Southampton. Wendy married Jim. Jill on passing her O levels travelled the globe before meeting and marrying Brian and I was sent away to public school giving mum time to pursue her own interests.
She spent 20 years volunteering in the league of friends at Southampton hospital. She played tennis at the local GPs home enjoying silver service tea parties afterwards. Mum was also a lifelong member of the Conservative party and one evening took Wendy to Southampton docks for a husting meeting where Harold Wilson was speaking. With Mr. Wilson in full flow a voice from the back shouted, “Rubbish!”. Our mother was duly ejected. She was delighted when Rishi Sunak was made Chancellor of the Exchequer and relates seeing him as a small boy sitting behind the counter at the local pharmacy counting the cash. She also told the Moorlands staff that she had met Jeremy Hunt at his mother’s home, and he was a lovely boy!
Mums love of sport evolved, She became a member of Hampshire County Cricket Club and spent many a day in her deck chair watching play. She was also a loyal supporter of the Saints football team and enjoyed watching some matches from the Director’s box as her friend Mrs Bowyer’s husband Basil was a director of the club. She also received a surprise gift of two Cup Final tickets in 1976 against Manchester United. Her loyalty to Southampton was life long and she enjoyed friendly rivalry with Noelle when she visited her at Moorlands.
In 1976 a quirk of good fate led to my parents return to Thursley where they spent many years in The Old Parsonage continuing the 60 years of happy marriage. Both Mum and Dad embraced village life and several younger friends recount being invited to sausage and mash suppers when they first moved to Thursley. Those who knew Mum well will know food was very important to her!
Some of you may wonder why Mum is pictured hugging a bear on the front page of the Order of Service. Caroline and James live in Bears Cottage, and they saw this bear whilst on holiday in the States and had him shipped home. His name is Hamilton, and he can speak. When Tone visited the two were introduced and mum was flabbergasted when Hamilton said, “Hello, Tone, how are you today?!”
A big part of her life from 1981 was West Surrey Golf Club where she made many friends and happy memories. She became lady captain, and I was present on this day waiting with guests outside the clubhouse when she appeared on the fairway in a motorcycle combination, helmet and all. She also managed a hole in one at Cowdrey Park in 1988, of which she was very proud.
In later life Mum received tremendous support from her friends in the village Kathleen Watson, Caroline, Hilary and Alison to name just a few. Sadly, after several falls Mum made the big decision to move to Moorlands Lodge where she spent her final five years. Once again, she made great friends amongst the staff and residents and made it her home. Jill Anstey was a great friend, and they gave each other tremendous support. Her family remained a great source of pride throughout her life, and she adorned her walls with photos of her eight grandchildren and eight great grandchildren and shared news of her nieces, nephews and Godchildren.
Over the last few months Mums health declined but she remained pragmatic and cheerful. On December 29th I took a call from Moorlands and Kim and I headed up to the home and were comforted to find Jess ,one of the carers, holding Mum’s hand until we arrived. During the day Dr Poon and the staff not only cared for Mum, but us too and their professionalism and kindness throughout was a great comfort. We would like to send a heartfelt thank you to everyone at Moorlands. It was a long day and by chance we heard Ken Dodd singing Happiness. The words resonated summing up Mum’s philosophy of life. Also, on the news that night, we heard that all the planets were visible in the night sky and we like to think they helped light her way back to Rodney and her family.
Nina Allen: 7th May - 1960 - 17th December 2022
Tich Corrigan: 16th July 1953 - 26th September 2022
Tich was the daughter of Mr and Mrs Kot who lived in the village, and
for many years worked for the O'Briens.
Sir Alan Traill: 7th May 1935 - 18th April 2020
It is with great sadness that we announce the death of one of our villagers, Sir Alan Traill GBE, QSO, MA, D.Mus. at the age of 84. He had been living with Parkinson's for the last seven years, being cared for at home and then in the final months at Moorhouse Nursing Home.
Alan was born in North London and attended St Andrew's School, Eastbourne followed by Charterhouse School and Jesus College, Cambridge, where he studied law. His hobbies and passions were music and opera, and with a lifelong love of conducting he was delighted to conduct the LSO when he became Lord Mayor of London in 1984. He was passionate about supporting education, music and young people. Whilst at University he was a dab hand at building and painting stage sets, which later turned into DIY at home.
He worked for many years in the City of London, as well as abroad, and was by profession an insurance risk analysis consultant, expert witness, arbitrator and mediator. He and Sarah moved to Thursley in 1988 and Alan was one of the original shareholders of The Three Horseshoes Pub and could always be relied upon to give sound advice and support.
Sir Alan was Lord Mayor of London from 1984-5, an Honorary Governor and Almoner at Christ's Hospital School, Vice-President of King Edward's School, Witley, Governor of Treloar's School, Governor and Chair of the Yehudi Menuhin School, Master of the Worshipful Company of Cutlers, Master of the Worshipful Company of Musicians, Governor of St. Paul's Cathedral Choir School Foundation, Trustee of the Ann Driver Trust, member of the advisor board and Educational Committee at the LSO and Chairman of the UK-NZ 1990 committee, for which he received the Queens' Service Order (QSO) from New Zealand in recognition of his voluntary service.
Alan spent most of his spare time in voluntary service, supporting a huge variety of charities. He was a governor of the Yehudi Menuhin School of Music and his contributions to the improvement of the School were innumerable and helped many hundreds of children. He established the Education Committee and facilitated the construction of The Menuhin Hall (critical to improving the musical opportunities for the children). "It is no exaggeration to say that, without him, the Menuhin Hall would not have been built. The Hall took the school into a new era and greatly enhanced and promoted its reputation worldwide" was just one of the comments received by the family in a letter of condolences from the Yehudi Menuhin School.
He was the driving force behind the founding of the St Pauls Cathedral School Foundation (Chorister Trust), through whose financial support very many boys have had the chance to excel through music - an experience that for many has been truly transformational. The school said "His enduring legacy is the Trust, we will continue to strive to keep his initial vision alive. It is needed now more than ever".
Alan was also one of the longest serving Almoners of Christ's Hospital School. He joined the School's Finance Committee, where he brought expert insight from his highly successful career in the insurance industry. They commented that "Sir Alan was a wonderful advocate of Christs' Hospital and had a particular passion for the School's thriving music. Whilst Lord Mayor, in a 'never been done before act', he personally took to the stage on Speech Day and conducted the School orchestra".
Alan was a patron of the Treloar School & College for Disabled Young People in Alton. "Sir Alan holds a special place in our hearts and was a fantastic supporter....He will be particularly remembered for his energy which led to the state of the art 'Traill centre for Creative Arts' opening in 1987 following his successful mayoral appeal."
He was also very active in his support of Morden College, a long-standing charity which has been providing residential care for older people all of whom are in financial hardship, in Blackheath.
In 1985 Alan became a Knight of the Order of St John of Jerusalem, his white eight-pointed cross on a black background is an international symbol of first aid. He was appointed to the Order of Medieval Knights of London in 2002.
Sir Alan joined the Court of Common Council in 1970 and served as Alderman for the Ward of Langbourn from 1975 to his aldermanic retirement in 2005, as well as being elected Sheriff in 1982 and a JP. He was immensely proud that on the day he became Lord Mayor, Sarah took part in the Lord Mayor's Show, in a fashion unlike any other lady Mayoress. For the first time in recorded history, the Lady Mayoress rode in the procession mounted on horseback and was riding side-saddle on a wonderful grey police horse.
His family are very proud of all he did during his lifetime to support music, the arts and education. He was kind, generous, open-hearted and devoted to his family, with a cheeky smile and a wicked sense of humour. He will be sorely missed.
Edmund Selwyn Haviland: 6th April 1924 - 17th October 2020
Order of Service:
Elizabeth Prudence Jones: 1927 - 2020
Prue Jones lived at Chetwyn Cottage and never married.
