Nigel John Pickering

I remember you at Womad when I recognised your straw-hatted head rising above the crowd and your face creased into that smile and you roared “David” when you saw me. 

I remember your infinite patience with me as you steered me through the workings of a new IT system. 

I remember your infectious enthusiasm as you gave me copies of all the CDs Portico, your most recently discovered band, had released. 

I remember how the doctors’ common room hushed when you gave your thoughts, knowledge and advice on a difficult case.

I remember your excitement at going to London and choosing paintings from the Arts  Council to hang on the walls of  the new surgery.

I remember the huge lighthouse that rose from your head at Kate Badcock’s leaving party, continuing the practice tradition of silly hats at practice parties.

I remember your kind, caring and gentle manner with the elderly patients in the Day Hospital.

I remember you not being afraid to give me a hug when I needed one.

I remember your return from holidays on Colonsay, re-energised by Hebridean sea and air.

I remember the selfless hours you put in for the Parkinson’s Society.

I remember your “working day” assessment that led us to finding time to have regular workable daily doctors’ meetings that didn’t yet again fall by the wayside, and which enriched and strengthened the practice. 

I remember driving you to Oxford for chemotherapy and how you explained in dispassionate, inquisitive, scientific fashion the “awake and conscious” brain surgery you had undergone.

I remember your chuckles at the staff Christmas party “guess which knobbly knees belong to which doctor” game.

I remember your informed, pragmatic, deeply knowledgeable, holistic, and compassionate approach to general practice. 

I remember how much all your patients and the staff of the primary care team loved and respected you.

I remember you watching Six Nations rugby, after a huge Vietnamese lunch at a practice get together, enjoying the thrill of a good try, and not realising it would be the last time we would all meet together.

I remember your modesty when you showed me your magnificent, intricate watercolours of Patagonian succulent plants. 

I remember your deep, resonant, measured voice that never needed to be raised to be heard and listened to. 

I remember you as a wise, caring, supportive, smiling partner and friend for over thirty years.

I will remember all these things, and so many more, and so many more. 

“For a man lives as long as we carry him inside us,

For as long as we carry the harvest of his dreams,

For as long as we ourselves live,

Holding memories in common, a man lives.”*

* From “So Many Different Lengths of Time” by Brian Patten. 


David Charles

Are you sure you wish to delete your condolence message ?