Obituaries, Eulogies and Memories

At a meeting of the Thursley History Society early in 2025, it was agreed that the website should include an entry for our many beloved villagers who are no longer with us. Our archive contains a lot of information and we shall gradually build this entry retrospectively. If you would like to contribute please do so via the website: https://www.thursleyhistorysociety.org/contact.

Hilary Joy Denholm Barr, 3rd May 1945 - 12th January 2025

Hilary's obituary in Thursley Parish Magazine, May 2025

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.