Tommy,

 

I can’t remember the exact first time we met, I guess I was too young to recall it. However I was told that our mother’s met while they were both pregnant with us at antenatal classes. You are one of those people in my life who I have always known and when I reflected back on my memories of you they intersect it all.

 

Primary school is such a lottery; your parents choose a school and your first friends in life are presented to you. I was very fortunate to attend the same school as you. Most children are like sheep and my experience as a teacher has highlighted this numerous times. However, you were not one of those children, you knew what you liked and you didn’t care what others thought. This was an outstanding quality to observe and something I couldn’t understand until much later in life. This I believe evidences your intelligence and ability and I can still clearly re-call a maths challenge we did. Most of our year struggling through it and their struggles very clear to see – myself included. But I turned round to see you there looking unphased and remember Mrs Jarvis proudly announcing your 100% mark. Your talents were clear to see.

 

Moreover even at primary school age you had an innate ability to bring people with you through your optimism and story telling. Our love of robot wars led a group of us to spend breaks and lunch drawing and re-drawing designs. Our modest and more realistic designs were quickly thrown out for yours, which included flame throwers, lasers and many other weapons. When someone questioned how we could build this, you said it was well within the skills of your dad. And forward we went believing we would be on TV soon crowned as champions. I never know what happened to that robot, but it’s not important. That story evidences how you made Botley Primary a better place for everyone who was there with you. 

 

Our schools may have changed but our lives remained linked through our passion for sport. Autumns and winters were spent playing rugby. I still clearly re-call our first training session together with Tony putting us through our paces. Then going back to Botley School to proudly give our classes a presentation on our new sport. Yours was obviously much better than mine as your legendary skills at holding court had already been fully developed.

 

In springs and summers we turned to cricket and longer and warmer Wednesday evenings spent at Cumnor cricket club spending hours after the formal training had finished honing our cricketing ability in the nets. It’s fair to say neither of us were destined for cricket playing greatness, and our skills overshadowed by our much more talented team mates. But we both developed a love for watching/scoring the sport, which I believe was down to those formative days at Cumnor.

 

As we moved to different cities for university, our lives naturally drifted further apart and sadly continued into adult life; however on rare occasions I was fortunate enough to bump into you around Oxford. One such time you were on a Oxford pub crawl and quite a few pints deep, but you said you were trying to fit in a quick game of darts as you rushed across the city centre. I didn’t believe you and questioned this. And in response you pulled back your jacket to show me a set of darts in your inner jacket pocket. We both laughed, went our separate ways, but in true Tommy fashion you had put a smile on my face. 

 

And our last encounter was at your pub. My dad is a man of few words and rarely says what he wants to do. But from the day he found out you were running a pub it was something he wanted to do, as did I. That day was a very warm summer’s day, you were extremely busy and clearly had many more important things to do than speak to us. But in true Tommy fashion you dropped everything and spent far too much time talking to us. You only left once the pressures of daily publican life were forced to pull you away. I know both my dad and I left feeling listened to and the most important people in the room – something you always did. And when I reflect back on this day I understand why my dad really wanted to go to your pub. It was because he wanted to have a conversation with you and feel that warthm you gave to everyone you spoke to. 

 

I have just re-read this and I seem to use the word “l” or “me” far too many times when reflecting about you. However I believe this highlights your best quality. You made everyone around you feel better and you continually made people smile, laugh and feel positive.

 

You’ll be forever missed.

 

Rest in Peace Tommy.