Reminiscences My earliest memory of Peter is a visit to North Wales when I was about five and he presented me with a furry Koala bear which became my go to comforter for many years to come (I still have it 60 years on). He did something similar when my second child was born and gave her a pink elephant that she still treasures. After my father died, Peter made it his duty to support and check up on our family. He would arrive from wherever he was posted with the Royal Artillery to great fanfare- an exotic creature in the wilds of North Wales with his leather overnight bag and Sunbeam Alpine sports car. He would take us children out into the field while my Mother cooked dinner. I think he was supposed to entertain us. Entertainment involved a quick fire general knowledge quiz (we always disappointed) and if dinner was running late, a Welsh version of ‘ten green bottles’, Oes Gafr Eto? involving a song about a goat that had not yet been milked. We sang that round over and over again until summonsed for dinner. My Mother always pushed out the boat for his visits -tinned grapefruit for his breakfast and Vesta Beef Curry or local duck for supper- little realising that when he said he loved duck he was referring to Peking duck as experienced in Hong Kong, not a chewy locally sourced mallard Peter used to come to Parents day at Millfield and enjoyed mixing with other parents and guardians. He fell into conversation with an amiable man.”What do you do in life? ‘ asked Peter. “I’m an actor” was the response. “ oh” said Peter, “that must be a rather perilous profession’, not recognising Sean Connery! Peter was a great chronicler of family news and kept disparate parts of the family spread all over the world in touch with each other. He maintained links with Australia/ Bermuda/ Canada/ Dubai and many other places in worldwide . He regularly reported births deaths and marriages and everything in between. Peter was part of my life all of my life. He thought that he wanted to live in an annexe next to us and for years enjoyed this fantasy, but the honest truth was that Kings Yard was the only place that ever really felt like home, and with the support of wonderful neighbours, friends and carers he was able to do so right up until the end. Peter often referred to me as his favourite niece. I basked in this glory until I met his favourite niece in Wiltshire, and his favourite niece in Dubai, along with the favourite nieces in Australia and in Bermuda… and as an adult I came to understand that this was just his way of trying to make us all feel special. That is the kind of man he was.