Memories of Bernie

I met Bernie in 1988 when SMRU was at Madingley Road. He was then what he continued to be, a jovial, gregarious and funny (sometimes unintentionally) character, with a wide sweep of interests in the natural world. Many of my memories from those early days focus on fieldwork, of which there seemed to be a lot. Where it involved Bernie, there was inevitably some form of hilarity. In recent lubricated recollections with those also involved, many more came to light than can be easily recounted and these are only a tiny glimpse of the man and the space he filled.

PDV sampling. At a catching trip to Strangford, he won a tidy sum on Little Polvier (28/1!!) in the 1989 Grand National after I gave him the tip and backed a donkey. His delight in that was matched only by his generosity in presenting me with a bottle of whiskey (the empty is still in my office). Not for the last time, Slàinte Mhath!

Gluing one of the last painstakingly potted VHF tags to his trainer aboard “Calyx” in 1989.

Explaining Argos to Gilly and Mandy – “think of an orange….”

Suggesting going out for a smoke when he and I were in the foyer of a “hotel” in Nouadibou, Mauritania where Fedak was getting more and more irate with the owner’s indifference to his (Fedak’s) wishes.  We both had a nasty premonition of ending up as camel-fodder.

The Fisher & Donaldson “rhubarb fumble” post-catch attempt on Abertay Sands – doubled up with laughter.

In Oban hospital getting AJH patched up after a fencing wound (yes, really), Bernie filled in the inevitable time waiting around by offering any nurses in the vicinity “do you want to see my plots?”. Needless to say, his enthusiasm for his latest data analysis output wasn’t universally shared.

More recently there was little room for shared laughter, but that makes it seem doubly wrong that he’s gone.  The gap that he leaves will be noticeable for a long time.  Farewell, Bernie.

Paddy.