Tony, as we all know, was often a man of few words, often letting the silence speak.

He was a kind, gentle, but private man, who did not often show his emotions, but in his own quiet way gave time to those he loved and knew, had shared interests, and to his faith community.

To me, he was a draughtsman, a model-maker, and in my eyes, an adventurer who had a love for being in the mountains (although I think, preferably on a Swiss train!) a person who could draw and annotate beautiful diagrams, a person who paid attention to details, who was methodical and meticulous, something I see echoed in Mark and Helen.

I remember when first meeting Tony and Dulcie, having the inauguration of watching numerous slide shows of their travels to the French Alps for their summer holiday, on little more than a moped, something I still can’t quite believe!

Tony was a collector of Baedeker guides and preferred the reading of charts, railway timetables, logbooks and maps, something that for those who may prefer to sit down with a novel may find difficult to understand, but for me, a connection and way into his world. 

I will miss our mini-expedition conversations, which often started with the opening of a map, for which I would often see his face light up. Be it of the Highlands, Lake District or the French Alps, we would share our memories for various walks, finding myself following in his footsteps, we would recount our observations for the terrain, landscape and wildlife, separated only by the passage of time. 

Tony could tell you much about the history of British and Swiss railways, their networks and timetables and if you happen to mention you were going to a town or city he could then recite the various connections and stations along the route and how and when a branch line may have been lost, spoken like the W. H. Auden poem ‘This is the night mail’. 

I will miss the conversation and connection we had through our love of the outdoors, my father-in-law, my friend.