Peter Stuart Excell

Peter and I grew up together at the beginning of the baby-boom period. In 1956 his parents moved from Hampstead to East Barnet. On the first day he joined our school I was asked by the headmaster to introduce him to each class member; from that point we became friends. Peter was an only child, and whilst he found this caused some difficulty in settling into new social groups, he made many friends among local children. He once raised the subject of being an only child by making an astute analytical observation that children with brothers and sisters often spent a large part of their time arguing with their siblings. He would often say that he and I were like brothers – but with the considerable upside of not being competitive with each other, and never having any jealousy between us. When he was about 10, he had an operation just days before Christmas. He was confined to his bedroom over the celebrations and so asked his parents if I could stay for the holiday. In those few days we cemented our relationship as really close pals. Peter admired his father’s talent for both making things and his keen interest in railways. His father also had an interest in evolving technology, and a willingness to support our inquisitiveness – helping us to discover the scientific and infrastructural developments happening at that time. When the M1 motorway was opened in November 1959, Peter and I were taken on a drive by his parents along the whole length, then from Watford, junction 5, as far as Crick, Junction 18, near Rugby. We all thrilled at the unrestricted speeds and ability to reach destinations in record time: it was a real revolution in travel. Peter’s father also arranged visits to railway exhibitions, especially where it demonstrated British Railways’ forward-thinking attitude in its early days. Train-spotting was a key pastime for both of us, especially from a local ‘skeleton’ footbridge bridge (so called because of its spidery steel structure) that spanned the main East Coast line from Kings Cross to Edinburgh. At this time even the most advanced steam locomotives were giving way to diesel/electric trains. A spectacular new railway locomotive, which competed with the world record-holding LNER ‘Mallard’ engine for our attention when it emerged, at high speed, from a tunnel immediately south of the footbridge, was an American inspired prototype diesel engine called ‘Deltic’. This new technology had us sharing magazines with meticulous (and in those days, rare) colour-printed cut-away drawings that we studied together for hours to understand exactly how ‘diesel-electric’ traction worked, and why it was considered superior to steam. It was this period of amazing technological innovation that made us both want to contribute to the dynamic changes in the world around us. For Peter, it was towards engineering and information technology, whilst my interests directed me towards architecture, but our joint fascination with transportation continued during our early to mid-teen years, and included weekends searching-out rare or experimental London buses and finding applications of new railway technology. These activities often involved buying ‘Rover’ discount tickets, which gave unlimited travel on London Transport buses, providing access for a day to freely explore over 3,000 square miles of the capital and its surrounding countryside. Today it is hard to image parents allowing two 12–13-year-old boys to head off (with a packed lunch, of course) for a whole day exploring at will, without the benefit of mobile phones to map a course or, for said parents, to track our whereabouts. These excursions allowed us to locate interesting vehicles and recording our findings in small publications called: ‘Ian Allan Books’, with editions that listed every known or obscure railway engine, and London Transport bus. This activity built confidence and a love of travel. The only parental requirement was to be home in time for tea. I’m glad to say, we never got lost, and were never late for tea, especially if tea was at Peter’s grandparents’ home in Hampstead – sitting cross-legged on the floor, with buttered hot crumpets and monochromatic films of WW2 sea battles on television! Although we went to separate senior schools, we remained in touch until the mid-1960s, but then gradually lost contact. However, in around 2010, I was part of a business transformation project that involved ‘Informatics’. It required research that lead me to a certain professor at Bradford University – and hence reconnection with Peter after a gap of some 45 years. My email enquiring if he was the same Peter Excell that I had known in Barnet during the 1950s and 60s, resulted in an instantaneous and emphatic ‘yes’, and a revelation that for some years he had been trying to track me down… Since then we have been able to meet once more and, since early this year, through ‘social distance’ correspondence, spend time reminiscing and exploring our views on a number of topics, as diverse as automatic gearboxes and religion. Peter gave me an outline of his philosophy on this latter subject, and in return I set down my own thoughts. Needless to say, he responded to my paper with a most thoughtful, and challenging, critical assessment that reminded me of our many deep conversations as teenage friends. It also showed why so many people have fond memories of his professional role in life. From an early age, Peter was clearly destined for the career he followed, and wisely honed his excellent skills at choosing who to trust, and who to relate to, which clearly paid dividends both in his life with Dianne and in forming the numerous friendships that these tributes so beautifully demonstrate. We will all miss Peter so very much, and I am honoured to have known him, and to have been his friend…