Gunfleet
Well-Known Member
For anyone interested, there's a recording of Sea Fever by Bryn Terfel. You can even get it via itunes.
Farewell to tome
- Thread starter jhr
- Start date
Metabarca
Well-Known Member
Buon vento, Tom.
Twister_Ken
Well-Known Member
Among the momentii at the wake were bits from Tom's school reports, and a newspaper report about his restoration of an 85' wooden boat to be used for sailing trips for problem kids. When you read what the monks of Ampleforth had to say about him as a lad, you could imagine that it would have been very easy for Tom to be empathetic with problem kids! One bit read something like: "Tom devotes his time to disrupting class and making learning impossible but it is done with such good humour that it is difficult to dislike him" (or something like that).
Any chance that those school reports could be scanned or typed up for the forumists? And the Meridian story too?
Any chance that those school reports could be scanned or typed up for the forumists? And the Meridian story too?
iangrant
Well-Known Member
will do
ian
ian
iangrant
Well-Known Member
A NEW DECK FOR A BALTIC TRADER
By Tom Eckhoff
During the course of the season, the Baltic ketch, Meridian, is under-going an extensive refit. This entails stripping deck and hull timbers and making good the supporting beams and frames under the watchful eye of the surveyor. Central to the restoration is the expertise of Peter Miles, an apprenticed shipwright whose traditional skills represents a trade which sadly is in its twilight years. This article describes the replacement of her deck together with the repair and strengthening of the supporting structure.
The Baltic ketch, Meridian, was stoutly built of oak frames with a double skinned hull of oak and pitch-pine in Sweden in 1931. Her purpose was to carry under sail cargoes of grain, bricks and coal amongst the many islands and creeks of the Baltic and throughout Northern Europe. During the development of steam and diesel powered coasters, she was to become one of the last commercial sailing ships to be constructed. She came into my hands with a rotten deck, part of which had been removed, and with a family of worms gorging themselves within the stem on a feast of oak to the extent that she had to be continuously pumped whilst afloat. Following a winter during which she consumed five new bilge pumps of the 1400 gph submersible variety, the arrival of spring came as a great relief: we could remove the tarpaulins and start work in earnest. I had been searching for a shipwright to take charge of the work for some time without result. Somebody suggested the Job Centre. I laughed but decided to try anyway.
About a week later, I had a phone call from someone in Portsmouth who claimed to be a shipwright. Could this be another of the “shipwrights” whose sole claim to the title amounted to a couple of weeks in a boatyard fitting teak-faced chipboard into a modern production boat? Far from it. Peter Miles was apprenticed at Camper and Nicholsons yard in 1956 when they were still building wooden boats up to 200 feet in length. We met on board Meridian and discussed the work and how it would be tackled. It was obvious that I was talking to someone with a great deal more knowledge than myself. He explained that he enjoyed working on larger boats but that the work was no longer available. In between such work, he had been wasting his talents on building sites.
“When can you start?”
“Monday morning.”
“You’re on.”
“Right, we’ll start with the deck.”
Meridian’s deck is of pitch-pine on oak frames. The covering board of oak is raised several inches above the deck and into this are set the stanchions for the bulwarks. Because of the raised covering board, there is no natural drainage over the side and so this is achieved by scuppers running from the deck through the covering board and out through the hull planking. There are two of these either side of the deck amid-ships made up of lead pipes with their inboard ends spooned out and let into the deck.
Following the removal of the deck timbers, the oak frames were examined and small pockets of rot removed. Peter made up graving pieces in iroko which were glued and fastened in place using SP106 epoxy adhesive. The covering board had also suffered, where the lead scuppers had been pierced (presumably by someone using a sharp object to clear them). This had allowed fresh water into the surrounding timber with the inevitable consequences of rot. The scupper pipes were repaired and the soft wood around them removed. New iroko sections were inserted with opposing scarfs glued and fastened in place. The new pieces were bored out and the pipes replaced.
Further forward, a section of covering board 20 feet long had to be replaced. The timber section is six inches by seven inches wide. In order to accommodate the curve, a massive piece of timber would have been required if it were to be made out of solid. We decided to laminate it using seven widths of one inch iroko planking working one width per day. Again, the SP epoxy system was used.
A boat such as Meridian attracts much attention in a yard such as Combes at Bosham Hoe – more so with a shipwright of Peter’s skills beavering away. Large sections of timber are manhandled through the yard to the fascination of all observers: down through the enthusiasts ashore working eagerly to prepare their boats for the coming season. The progress of the mighty piece is followed down the path to the creek and along the jetty to Meridian where it arrives with its weary bearers. As it disappears on board, a cap may be lifted and a head of two scratched. Rumours abound. In order to mould the laminations in place, Peter used lengths of two by two scrap timber nailed to the beams and braced with wedges and batons to fit the curve. Returning up the yard shortly afterwards, he was amused to hear that we were apparently replacing the deck beams with knotty pine.
As the new timber sections were secured, they were faired true using an adze and a jack-plane. An adze is a most useful tool in the right hands. I have struggled and cursed it, came close to removing my foot with it and eventually hid it away in favour of the electric equivalent. That was before I watched Peter using the very same adze. Having made some important adjustments to the handle (the ‘helve’), he showed me how to lock the helve in place with the left hand pressing it into one’s groin whilst using the right hand to control the cutting edge. By this method, the adze may be used in almost any direction and despite its’ awkward appearance, is capable of quite delicate work.
Whilst work was progressing on the deck beams and covering board under the watchful eye of the surveyor, Derek Abra and his helpers at Combes, were working the evening shift machining the timber for the replacement deck. To save Peter time, the caulking bevels were machined to his exact requirements: eighth inch vee running two thirds of the thickness of each plank providing a quarter inch caulking seam. The Columbian pine was delivered in some style by the most convenient means – on board the yard launch on a sunny Sunday afternoon at high water.
With the covering board repairs completed, fastenings were driven through the new pieces into the deck beams and outwards the full width of the covering board. Peter and the surveyor had agreed the positions of the deck butt-joints and the old deck was cut back to position each joint above a beam with caulking bevels cut across the end grain. Taking advantage of the warm, dry weather, liberal coats of Creosote were applied to the supporting structure over a period of three days until they would hold no more.
We were now ready to lay the new planks or ‘deals’ as they are known. Anxious to hasten the work, I volunteered to cut the hundreds of dowels required. Three days and a burnt out power drill later, I wished I had kept my mouth shut. Meanwhile, Pete laid a few leader deals overlapping in a line from stem to stern. With these leaders in place, it was possible to see a line along the whole vessel which would provide a datum for subsequent alignment.
Starting with the outer deal into which the scupper pipes had to be carefully fitted, Pete worked his way inwards towards the centre of the ship. Each deal was braced hard up against the previous one with struts and wedges. The pilot holes for the galvanised spikes were drilled through into the oak beams and the holes then counterbored to take the dowel plugs. The new spikes were inserted so that their cutting edges cut across the grain of the beam and were driven home with a hammer and punch. The holes were plugged with glued dowels and the struts and wedges were then removed and shortened to make way for the next deal.
The curves in the straight-laid deck towards the bow and stern were accommodated by ‘joggling’ with a series of overlapping joints and tapers. It was fascinating to watch this delicate fitting. In the true manner of a craftsman, Pete made it look deceptively simple. It was quite a moment when the last piece was driven in tight – a perfect fit! I returned later that evening when everyone had left, for a quiet stroll around my new deck. Pete had shown me that there was only one set of spike holes in the beams when we removed the old deck so that we were removing the original timbers after 56 years’ of hard service.
Having now laid the new deck, the next stage was trimming down high spots and dowels using the adze and a plane. This was accomplished quite quickly and was followed by the meticulous cleaning out of the debris and shavings from each seam in preparation for caulking.
Spunyarn, in the form of hemp twine soaked in Creosote, was used for caulking. Three strands were laid out and spun into a single yarn which was then ‘choked’ into the seam using a caulking iron and mallet. Pete produced his caulking box with its curved seat which had been made and used by his grandfather – himself a shipwright. For the next few days, the rhythmic tap of the mallet became a familiar sound as I busied myself in the engine room preparing Meridian for her impending move from her mudberth to the railway slip at Sparkes boatyard on Hayling Island where she was due to undergo the next stage in her restoration. Eventually the tapping ceased and Pete appeared in the engine room. His hands were blistered from the constant work with the mallet, but the job was done. I was surprised at how little spunyarn was used for the caulking and Pete explained that one of the commonest causes of leaky decks on any wooden boat was over-choked seams. When paying-up, this, in turn, prevents enough marine glue from lying in the seam to be effective and the result is a leaky deck: take note! The remedy is to remove some of the caulking, harden up the seam and then to re-pay the deck.
For the final process of paying-up, Pete fabricated a glue pot from an oil drum and a galvanised pail. The Simpson-Lawrence marine glue arrives in 25kg drums within which the glue is solid. I wondered how we were going to remove it. Pete picked up a sledge-hammer and started beating the sides of the drum. When the lid was removed, it came out in manageable pieces which were then heated in the glue pot. In order to prevent the glue from premature cooling, the ladles were also heated in a fire. When the glue had reached the required temperature, a ladle was filled and the glue carefully poured into the seams. The glue was worked uphill so that, as it was run along the seams, it started to solidify and thus prevented the molten glue from running backwards down the seams. The empty ladle was replaced in the fire whilst the next was removed and filled from the glue pot. Hour after hour the paying-up continued into the night for the next two days whilst I continued preparations for our departure. We had a lot of work to complete on the slipway and were determined to complete the decks before we left.
Fate smiled on us as we worked. No sooner had the paying-up been completed and the glue pot stored below, when the heavens opened up and we were treated to several hours of continuous heavy rain. As we took shelter down below, not a drop of water came through the new deck. This didn’t seem to surprise Pete, although I did notice he was wearing a sly grin. Next day, we would start to scrape off the excess glue and, hopefully, we could then wait a further 56 years before repeating the exercise.
TRANSPARENCIES
1. Covering board lamination showing the struts and wedges used to form the curve
(the “knotting pine replacement beams”).
2. Covering board repairs by way of scuppers.
3. Covering board repairs completed: laying leader deals.
4. Trimming down using the adze and plane.
5. Caulking with spunyarn. Note the caulking box and the joggling to accommodate the curve in the bow.
6. Paying the deck with marine glue.
7. Meridian alongside the railway slip ready for the next stage in her restoration.
By Tom Eckhoff
During the course of the season, the Baltic ketch, Meridian, is under-going an extensive refit. This entails stripping deck and hull timbers and making good the supporting beams and frames under the watchful eye of the surveyor. Central to the restoration is the expertise of Peter Miles, an apprenticed shipwright whose traditional skills represents a trade which sadly is in its twilight years. This article describes the replacement of her deck together with the repair and strengthening of the supporting structure.
The Baltic ketch, Meridian, was stoutly built of oak frames with a double skinned hull of oak and pitch-pine in Sweden in 1931. Her purpose was to carry under sail cargoes of grain, bricks and coal amongst the many islands and creeks of the Baltic and throughout Northern Europe. During the development of steam and diesel powered coasters, she was to become one of the last commercial sailing ships to be constructed. She came into my hands with a rotten deck, part of which had been removed, and with a family of worms gorging themselves within the stem on a feast of oak to the extent that she had to be continuously pumped whilst afloat. Following a winter during which she consumed five new bilge pumps of the 1400 gph submersible variety, the arrival of spring came as a great relief: we could remove the tarpaulins and start work in earnest. I had been searching for a shipwright to take charge of the work for some time without result. Somebody suggested the Job Centre. I laughed but decided to try anyway.
About a week later, I had a phone call from someone in Portsmouth who claimed to be a shipwright. Could this be another of the “shipwrights” whose sole claim to the title amounted to a couple of weeks in a boatyard fitting teak-faced chipboard into a modern production boat? Far from it. Peter Miles was apprenticed at Camper and Nicholsons yard in 1956 when they were still building wooden boats up to 200 feet in length. We met on board Meridian and discussed the work and how it would be tackled. It was obvious that I was talking to someone with a great deal more knowledge than myself. He explained that he enjoyed working on larger boats but that the work was no longer available. In between such work, he had been wasting his talents on building sites.
“When can you start?”
“Monday morning.”
“You’re on.”
“Right, we’ll start with the deck.”
Meridian’s deck is of pitch-pine on oak frames. The covering board of oak is raised several inches above the deck and into this are set the stanchions for the bulwarks. Because of the raised covering board, there is no natural drainage over the side and so this is achieved by scuppers running from the deck through the covering board and out through the hull planking. There are two of these either side of the deck amid-ships made up of lead pipes with their inboard ends spooned out and let into the deck.
Following the removal of the deck timbers, the oak frames were examined and small pockets of rot removed. Peter made up graving pieces in iroko which were glued and fastened in place using SP106 epoxy adhesive. The covering board had also suffered, where the lead scuppers had been pierced (presumably by someone using a sharp object to clear them). This had allowed fresh water into the surrounding timber with the inevitable consequences of rot. The scupper pipes were repaired and the soft wood around them removed. New iroko sections were inserted with opposing scarfs glued and fastened in place. The new pieces were bored out and the pipes replaced.
Further forward, a section of covering board 20 feet long had to be replaced. The timber section is six inches by seven inches wide. In order to accommodate the curve, a massive piece of timber would have been required if it were to be made out of solid. We decided to laminate it using seven widths of one inch iroko planking working one width per day. Again, the SP epoxy system was used.
A boat such as Meridian attracts much attention in a yard such as Combes at Bosham Hoe – more so with a shipwright of Peter’s skills beavering away. Large sections of timber are manhandled through the yard to the fascination of all observers: down through the enthusiasts ashore working eagerly to prepare their boats for the coming season. The progress of the mighty piece is followed down the path to the creek and along the jetty to Meridian where it arrives with its weary bearers. As it disappears on board, a cap may be lifted and a head of two scratched. Rumours abound. In order to mould the laminations in place, Peter used lengths of two by two scrap timber nailed to the beams and braced with wedges and batons to fit the curve. Returning up the yard shortly afterwards, he was amused to hear that we were apparently replacing the deck beams with knotty pine.
As the new timber sections were secured, they were faired true using an adze and a jack-plane. An adze is a most useful tool in the right hands. I have struggled and cursed it, came close to removing my foot with it and eventually hid it away in favour of the electric equivalent. That was before I watched Peter using the very same adze. Having made some important adjustments to the handle (the ‘helve’), he showed me how to lock the helve in place with the left hand pressing it into one’s groin whilst using the right hand to control the cutting edge. By this method, the adze may be used in almost any direction and despite its’ awkward appearance, is capable of quite delicate work.
Whilst work was progressing on the deck beams and covering board under the watchful eye of the surveyor, Derek Abra and his helpers at Combes, were working the evening shift machining the timber for the replacement deck. To save Peter time, the caulking bevels were machined to his exact requirements: eighth inch vee running two thirds of the thickness of each plank providing a quarter inch caulking seam. The Columbian pine was delivered in some style by the most convenient means – on board the yard launch on a sunny Sunday afternoon at high water.
With the covering board repairs completed, fastenings were driven through the new pieces into the deck beams and outwards the full width of the covering board. Peter and the surveyor had agreed the positions of the deck butt-joints and the old deck was cut back to position each joint above a beam with caulking bevels cut across the end grain. Taking advantage of the warm, dry weather, liberal coats of Creosote were applied to the supporting structure over a period of three days until they would hold no more.
We were now ready to lay the new planks or ‘deals’ as they are known. Anxious to hasten the work, I volunteered to cut the hundreds of dowels required. Three days and a burnt out power drill later, I wished I had kept my mouth shut. Meanwhile, Pete laid a few leader deals overlapping in a line from stem to stern. With these leaders in place, it was possible to see a line along the whole vessel which would provide a datum for subsequent alignment.
Starting with the outer deal into which the scupper pipes had to be carefully fitted, Pete worked his way inwards towards the centre of the ship. Each deal was braced hard up against the previous one with struts and wedges. The pilot holes for the galvanised spikes were drilled through into the oak beams and the holes then counterbored to take the dowel plugs. The new spikes were inserted so that their cutting edges cut across the grain of the beam and were driven home with a hammer and punch. The holes were plugged with glued dowels and the struts and wedges were then removed and shortened to make way for the next deal.
The curves in the straight-laid deck towards the bow and stern were accommodated by ‘joggling’ with a series of overlapping joints and tapers. It was fascinating to watch this delicate fitting. In the true manner of a craftsman, Pete made it look deceptively simple. It was quite a moment when the last piece was driven in tight – a perfect fit! I returned later that evening when everyone had left, for a quiet stroll around my new deck. Pete had shown me that there was only one set of spike holes in the beams when we removed the old deck so that we were removing the original timbers after 56 years’ of hard service.
Having now laid the new deck, the next stage was trimming down high spots and dowels using the adze and a plane. This was accomplished quite quickly and was followed by the meticulous cleaning out of the debris and shavings from each seam in preparation for caulking.
Spunyarn, in the form of hemp twine soaked in Creosote, was used for caulking. Three strands were laid out and spun into a single yarn which was then ‘choked’ into the seam using a caulking iron and mallet. Pete produced his caulking box with its curved seat which had been made and used by his grandfather – himself a shipwright. For the next few days, the rhythmic tap of the mallet became a familiar sound as I busied myself in the engine room preparing Meridian for her impending move from her mudberth to the railway slip at Sparkes boatyard on Hayling Island where she was due to undergo the next stage in her restoration. Eventually the tapping ceased and Pete appeared in the engine room. His hands were blistered from the constant work with the mallet, but the job was done. I was surprised at how little spunyarn was used for the caulking and Pete explained that one of the commonest causes of leaky decks on any wooden boat was over-choked seams. When paying-up, this, in turn, prevents enough marine glue from lying in the seam to be effective and the result is a leaky deck: take note! The remedy is to remove some of the caulking, harden up the seam and then to re-pay the deck.
For the final process of paying-up, Pete fabricated a glue pot from an oil drum and a galvanised pail. The Simpson-Lawrence marine glue arrives in 25kg drums within which the glue is solid. I wondered how we were going to remove it. Pete picked up a sledge-hammer and started beating the sides of the drum. When the lid was removed, it came out in manageable pieces which were then heated in the glue pot. In order to prevent the glue from premature cooling, the ladles were also heated in a fire. When the glue had reached the required temperature, a ladle was filled and the glue carefully poured into the seams. The glue was worked uphill so that, as it was run along the seams, it started to solidify and thus prevented the molten glue from running backwards down the seams. The empty ladle was replaced in the fire whilst the next was removed and filled from the glue pot. Hour after hour the paying-up continued into the night for the next two days whilst I continued preparations for our departure. We had a lot of work to complete on the slipway and were determined to complete the decks before we left.
Fate smiled on us as we worked. No sooner had the paying-up been completed and the glue pot stored below, when the heavens opened up and we were treated to several hours of continuous heavy rain. As we took shelter down below, not a drop of water came through the new deck. This didn’t seem to surprise Pete, although I did notice he was wearing a sly grin. Next day, we would start to scrape off the excess glue and, hopefully, we could then wait a further 56 years before repeating the exercise.
TRANSPARENCIES
1. Covering board lamination showing the struts and wedges used to form the curve
(the “knotting pine replacement beams”).
2. Covering board repairs by way of scuppers.
3. Covering board repairs completed: laying leader deals.
4. Trimming down using the adze and plane.
5. Caulking with spunyarn. Note the caulking box and the joggling to accommodate the curve in the bow.
6. Paying the deck with marine glue.
7. Meridian alongside the railway slip ready for the next stage in her restoration.
BlueSkyNick
Well-Known Member
along similar lines, I was wondering if Cutter could 'cut and paste' his eulogy. It was so good, both on its serious and humourous points, that other forumites might like to read what Richard said .... some of it was news to me, so would also be to others. Just a thought.
Cutter
Well-Known Member
Eulogy for Tom
I thought long and hard about posting this before Nick's request but I think the final words (sadly not mine) are so apt.
Karen has asked me to say a few words about Tom. This is an honour and a privilege and I hope that I speak for all those who knew Tom, both in cyberspace as well as in real life.
I'm not sure Tom would approve of our solemn eulogies. He would want us to laugh and be happy and remember the good things. All our lives were enriched by him in some way- at a mundane level it might be because he knew so much that was helpful - from the best way to run a cable, to installing bits of kit or just generally sorting out the jobs others had botched. At a deeper level he cared about people - not that he'd always let it show. But those who witnessed the excitement he got from sailing with disadvantaged children, and the Emsworth Bad Boys, or the pride he showed when Karen skippered her first passage gave a glimpse of how much he cared.
He helped me when I needed to talk through the aftermath of the London bombings - he changed his plans and talked with me all evening, initially over pints in the Sussex then on Spice Island and finally back on Ayesha, my boat, where we drank too much Caol Isla talking on into the morning. We talked only a little of what I had been through but lots about what some might call his philosophy of life. The conversation ranged over marriage, love, GPS positioning, Raymarine E class radomes, clashes with authority and the price of bread. He gave me a hug as he turned in – (even he realised he was no longer safe to drive home). Whilst I was glad that he wasn't in his Weekend Julie gear that quiet touch helped me more than words can say.
Many of you here today will have much better claim to speak; you knew him longer, sailed more with him, drank more with him, and worked with him. You will each have your own memories, some of quiet support, some of raucous laughter. I hope many will be recounted later. For instance, I had not realised that Tom was an accomplished horseman - I believe both horse and pedestrian later recovered. I like the one of Tom hiring a taxi the morning after a nights carousing. He set off to explore various pub car parks looking for his beloved Viper Green Porsche and all to no avail. Eventually they went home to report the car stolen only to find that it had never left the drive in the first place! His dart playing skills were amply demonstrated one Scuttlebutt cruise and the sight of him being helped into the restaurant having taken on the French National Champion will remain ever fresh.
For those of you who do not know the Scuttlebutt forum on the internet I suggest you register and read some of Tom’s offerings. He was responsible for one of the all time great posts and a great sting about Mirabella V. Yet his descriptions of cruises or other epic ventures should be read for their style, wit and knowledge. His description of the crossing back from Cherbourg this last September is a classic. His avatar (the picture you post alongside your name) changed periodically – most recently to a Norwegian Blue – the parrot epitomized by Monty Python. His biography again illustrates his wit – he listed his hobbies as keyhole surgery and bespoke amateur tattoos, claimed to have the RYA Yachtpranger Hectic and to speak English, Italian, leetle French, poor German, piss poor Norwegian and NMEA.
Tom and Karen met on Grimsby Town Station where Karen found herself alone with two odd characters, slightly the worse for wear. Luckily she chose the right one. Whilst he might have claimed that he had to fight her off we know, in reality, that he was instantly smitten and spent the next two years pursuing her across Europe. Tom told me how important Karen was to him and how much she had changed his life for the better. Tom supported her in her dancing career and she learnt to sail, not because she particularly wanted to sail, but because she just liked being with Tom. Our hearts go out to Karen.
I visited Tom in hospital the day before he died. He was in a side room in the Queen Alexandria Hospital and had a good view of the Solent. Even though he was unwell he was looking forward to having time at home. For him even this dire illness had a silver lining. It brought his mother Joan and his sisters Veronica and Maggie to his side, and his delight at this was hugely apparent and very important to him.
Tom lies here with us today in his coffin of Scandinavian redwood. The suggestion of a porthole was vetoed by the undertaker. He wears his Amaya crew shirt and he will be particularly missed by Derek, his faithful number one and all those who earned the right to wear the shirt by cruising with him. No doubt he is discussing menus with John his long-suffering cook on Amaya who died last year as well as enjoying a pint with other friends who have passed before.
Many of us will meet again next year in a mighty Armada to scatter his ashes but today we remember and honour Tom and give thanks for his life. My godfather, who was another fine man, once told me that a measure of a man's success was not his wealth or his status but was measured by how many people had been touched for the better. Tom touched all of us.
I think the following could have been written with Tom in mind.
It’s called,
Because you have lived.
“ To laugh often and much.
To win the respect of intelligent people, and
the affection of children.
To earn the appreciation of honest critics.
To appreciate beauty.
To find the best in others.
To leave the world a bit better, whether by a healthy child,
or a garden patch.
To know even one life was breathed easier because you
have lived.
This is to have succeeded.
I thought long and hard about posting this before Nick's request but I think the final words (sadly not mine) are so apt.
Karen has asked me to say a few words about Tom. This is an honour and a privilege and I hope that I speak for all those who knew Tom, both in cyberspace as well as in real life.
I'm not sure Tom would approve of our solemn eulogies. He would want us to laugh and be happy and remember the good things. All our lives were enriched by him in some way- at a mundane level it might be because he knew so much that was helpful - from the best way to run a cable, to installing bits of kit or just generally sorting out the jobs others had botched. At a deeper level he cared about people - not that he'd always let it show. But those who witnessed the excitement he got from sailing with disadvantaged children, and the Emsworth Bad Boys, or the pride he showed when Karen skippered her first passage gave a glimpse of how much he cared.
He helped me when I needed to talk through the aftermath of the London bombings - he changed his plans and talked with me all evening, initially over pints in the Sussex then on Spice Island and finally back on Ayesha, my boat, where we drank too much Caol Isla talking on into the morning. We talked only a little of what I had been through but lots about what some might call his philosophy of life. The conversation ranged over marriage, love, GPS positioning, Raymarine E class radomes, clashes with authority and the price of bread. He gave me a hug as he turned in – (even he realised he was no longer safe to drive home). Whilst I was glad that he wasn't in his Weekend Julie gear that quiet touch helped me more than words can say.
Many of you here today will have much better claim to speak; you knew him longer, sailed more with him, drank more with him, and worked with him. You will each have your own memories, some of quiet support, some of raucous laughter. I hope many will be recounted later. For instance, I had not realised that Tom was an accomplished horseman - I believe both horse and pedestrian later recovered. I like the one of Tom hiring a taxi the morning after a nights carousing. He set off to explore various pub car parks looking for his beloved Viper Green Porsche and all to no avail. Eventually they went home to report the car stolen only to find that it had never left the drive in the first place! His dart playing skills were amply demonstrated one Scuttlebutt cruise and the sight of him being helped into the restaurant having taken on the French National Champion will remain ever fresh.
For those of you who do not know the Scuttlebutt forum on the internet I suggest you register and read some of Tom’s offerings. He was responsible for one of the all time great posts and a great sting about Mirabella V. Yet his descriptions of cruises or other epic ventures should be read for their style, wit and knowledge. His description of the crossing back from Cherbourg this last September is a classic. His avatar (the picture you post alongside your name) changed periodically – most recently to a Norwegian Blue – the parrot epitomized by Monty Python. His biography again illustrates his wit – he listed his hobbies as keyhole surgery and bespoke amateur tattoos, claimed to have the RYA Yachtpranger Hectic and to speak English, Italian, leetle French, poor German, piss poor Norwegian and NMEA.
Tom and Karen met on Grimsby Town Station where Karen found herself alone with two odd characters, slightly the worse for wear. Luckily she chose the right one. Whilst he might have claimed that he had to fight her off we know, in reality, that he was instantly smitten and spent the next two years pursuing her across Europe. Tom told me how important Karen was to him and how much she had changed his life for the better. Tom supported her in her dancing career and she learnt to sail, not because she particularly wanted to sail, but because she just liked being with Tom. Our hearts go out to Karen.
I visited Tom in hospital the day before he died. He was in a side room in the Queen Alexandria Hospital and had a good view of the Solent. Even though he was unwell he was looking forward to having time at home. For him even this dire illness had a silver lining. It brought his mother Joan and his sisters Veronica and Maggie to his side, and his delight at this was hugely apparent and very important to him.
Tom lies here with us today in his coffin of Scandinavian redwood. The suggestion of a porthole was vetoed by the undertaker. He wears his Amaya crew shirt and he will be particularly missed by Derek, his faithful number one and all those who earned the right to wear the shirt by cruising with him. No doubt he is discussing menus with John his long-suffering cook on Amaya who died last year as well as enjoying a pint with other friends who have passed before.
Many of us will meet again next year in a mighty Armada to scatter his ashes but today we remember and honour Tom and give thanks for his life. My godfather, who was another fine man, once told me that a measure of a man's success was not his wealth or his status but was measured by how many people had been touched for the better. Tom touched all of us.
I think the following could have been written with Tom in mind.
It’s called,
Because you have lived.
“ To laugh often and much.
To win the respect of intelligent people, and
the affection of children.
To earn the appreciation of honest critics.
To appreciate beauty.
To find the best in others.
To leave the world a bit better, whether by a healthy child,
or a garden patch.
To know even one life was breathed easier because you
have lived.
This is to have succeeded.