As the younger brother of Michael, he was four years older, with another brother George, in between us, my memories of him are from our early life until I left home at age fifteen.

He was the leader of the pack, us three plus his school friends, riding our bikes in the long sunny days around the Surrey Downs.  Climbing trees, playing and catching butterflies with our large nets.  The cyanide bottle kept in the garage so he could pin out his collection.    The photograph of Michael in the CCF uniform with the .303 rifle as tall as him, then as a junior under officer in his Service Dress hat are very vide at this sad time.  His hair brylcreamed into a long quiff, his great attention to his neat clothes – if you brushed against his jacket what a fuss that would cause! My abiding memory is  watching him daily running down the road eating his toast, as he was late to catch the bus for school.

I have read that he taught some one to sing the ‘Harlot of Jerusalem” he certain taught us to sing “Three Germans  crossed the line” and my favourite ’Shortage of good bogs in Mobile.”  

I do know that the wasps in heaven will soon be reorganised and cataloged  as he will have plenty of time for that work.