Peter Davies

Peter Davies was my Godfather, on his passing I wrote to Sydney with some memories of moments that I shared with him. Shared with Sydneys blessing the following is a copy of that letter: Dear Sydney, Obviously this is a very difficult time for you and the rest of the family, and there isn’t a great deal anyone can do to help right now, but I did want to share with you a few of the memories I have of Peter. For whatever reason I remember very little of my childhood, but I do remember that when I was growing up and wanted to change the channel on the TV you had to stand up, walk across the room and press a button on the box itself. I also remember Peter telling me (as a child) that you had managed to get the latest thing which was a TV that changed channel when you shouted at it, telling it what channel you wanted to watch. I remember standing in your living room, shouting away at your tellie and being amazed as the channels did indeed change to whatever I had shouted. All the while, of course Peter had the remote control hidden under a newspaper! And that was my introduction to remote control TV. As a child I also remember him allowing me to handle some carefully selected snakes. Im fairly sure it was at a church fete, I think there may even be photos somewhere? Although Ive no idea where after all these years. I wonder how many people (particularly children) he introduced to snakes over the years and helped shatter the myths about them being slimy horrible creatures to be feared and reviled. I remember attending church one morning and chatting to him afterwards, when I presume Hannah must have been “on the way” and he told me he was perfectly happy about being a Grandad, but he wasn’t too sure about being married to a Granny! And in another memory of his wonderful sense of humour I remember attending Sues wedding and while I don’t remember any of the specifics of his speech my memory is of the room being full of laughter at whatever tales he was telling. I remember that a little later in life I reached a point where I wanted to quit university just before the start of my final year and being sent to talk to Peter. I recall him talking about the importance of knowledge for knowledges sake and pointing out the example of Nobel’s accidental discovery of dynamite and the alleged statement of “blimey, it’s a good job nobody is using this as a weapon”. I remember the words, the gentle laughter and that it took place sitting on a bench in your beautiful garden, in the sunshine, just outside the conservatory. For some unknown reason I remember him telling me one morning after Church that he had just learned that the cost of employing someone was generally roughly three times their annual salary. I really wonder why I remember that, or why he chose to share that snippet with a small boy who was probably more interested in bicycles and dragons but its something I have continued to hear throughout my professional career, and indeed its something that I have used on one occasion in salary “negotiations” and it did indeed secure me a significant pay rise. I remember hearing about a safari, with his beloved camera, which I think then escaped from its protective bag on day one and proved no match for whatever it collided with, but none the less he still got some great shots despite using a borrowed camera. And I remember the shots of the sea eagle, swooping down, grabbing a fish and flying off again. A series of shots which I believe the boat crew had been struggling and failing to capture for several years, then Peter turns up and click, click, click – job done! I think mother nature perhaps recognised his love of nature and intervened?! And I recall the talk and the images of the puffins and how much he loved them. Maybe some day I will walk in his footsteps and get some shots there myself? And I remember my 40th birthday. Just back from Thailand and enjoying a meal with all your company to celebrate another decade ticking by. I remember lovely food at Mr Manns, I think I recall that they did well coping with any dietary concerns that Peter was always so careful over, and I very much remember as the meal ended and we all went our separate ways he took me quietly to one side and gently said how sorry he was that my Dad had passed away. It was nice of him to say so, and to display some discretion in doing so. It had clearly been on his mind, but he picked his moment perfectly. And of course I also remember occasional breakfasts at yours, after church. Toast and marmalade in the very best of company. For some reason, when I picture those mornings it was always sunny. I don’t suppose it really was, but I think they were such happy times that I have filled in the details with sunshine, regardless of what the weather may have actually been doing. As I mentioned to one of your daughters when I was last with you, I think the kindest thing my parents ever did for me was asking you and Peter to be my Godparents. I am very fortunate to have known him, seen a small part of who he was and how he conducted himself and of course to have known his wonderful wife, without whom he wouldn’t have achieved half of what he did. I am sorry that this dreadful time has arrived, but he lived an incredible life and had a huge impact for the better on so many others. His family, his daughters, his friends, his pupils (who must surely number in the thousands), his colleagues and of course me. I doubt many have lived a fuller and more worthwhile life. I hope this letter is some small comfort in this darkest of times. With Love