Peter was my very good friend.
I first met him in the early ‘90s, when he became involved in the campaign
to ban hunting.
Over the years, Peter became more than my colleague, he became my friend - my very dear
friend. I valued his friendship enormously, and we had long conversations about everything under the sun. I believe
in the afterlife although Peter did not and I told him that one day I would definitely find him just so that I could say,
as I said to him so often, and no doubt so annoyingly, “There you are, I told you so!"
Peter was kind,
humorous and principled. He was a good listener, he cared about the underdog, and he would always help anyone who was
in trouble. He was passionately opposed to cruelty to animals, and he was prepared to put time and effort into changing
the things that needed to be changed.
He was a believer in decency, honesty and fair play, and he was always
an adherent to those high standards in which he believed.
Peter was always thinking of Tricia, always trying to
avoid causing her any worry or anxiety, and he was always high in his praise of her integrity.
Another example
of Peter’s kindness was his involvement with the charity Little Foxes Wildlife Rescue, which I run from my home.
He was a Trustee of the charity, and he also kindly took on the role of Treasurer. Thanks to Peter’s methodical
and thorough ways, our accounts were in safe and efficient hands. He also played a practical, hands-on role with
the rescued animals, willingly transporting casualties to and from the sanctuary, and also helping with releases. He
always showed great interest in the animals themselves. He particularly enjoyed seeing each year’s intake of little
fox cubs.
Since his tragic death, many people have spoken to me about their memories of Peter. I have many,
many memories of Peter which will always make me smile.
Peter kept his car very clean and tidy - mine,
in contrast, is always a tip, being more of an animal transporter than anything else. I remember so well his look of
mingled disbelief, and fascinated horror, whenever he surveyed the interior of my car.
None
of us can remember Peter without a smile, a smile of affection, of remembered jokes and remembered conversations, of pleasure
in shared successes. But above all a smile of loving remembrance of Peter the endearing, clever, funny man, the generous
friend in need, the modest and remarkable man that he was.
