November 25, 2020
November 25, 2020
I am very sorry that it took the obituary notice in the Old Pauline magazine to remind me of Simon. He was in the same classes as me for several years, where we wore our fishy scholarship tokens on the foothills approaching Cicero and Xenophon (we both diverted to the sciences).
Sadly I never got to play Smallfield CC, but I recall his killer delivery as a schoolboy cricketer: the (relatively) fast-medium full pitch hitting half an inch below the top of middle stump. Another memory from almost 50 years ago suggests he may have taken part in an orange-peel fight in the classroom just before an afternoon session: the unreasonably good-humoured master started the next lesson amid the rubble: "Is there a smell of oranges?"
From the messages here as well as my own recollections, it was plainly a great mistake to lose touch with him.
Sadly I never got to play Smallfield CC, but I recall his killer delivery as a schoolboy cricketer: the (relatively) fast-medium full pitch hitting half an inch below the top of middle stump. Another memory from almost 50 years ago suggests he may have taken part in an orange-peel fight in the classroom just before an afternoon session: the unreasonably good-humoured master started the next lesson amid the rubble: "Is there a smell of oranges?"
From the messages here as well as my own recollections, it was plainly a great mistake to lose touch with him.