Peter Adrian Hawes (1960-1964)
Died on 15th July 2021, aged 74
Pete was known as “Tufty” when he was at Merchant Taylors’ School in the 1960s. I’m not sure why he was called Tufty, but I assume it was his tufts of hair which changed very little over the decades, rather than his physical presence. He always said that his hair made him look forty from the age of twenty. However, the good news was this he still looks forty when he was sixty. Pete did have very good upper body strength and achieved his 1st XV rugby colours as a prop forward. That was the highlight of his school career. I think it would be fair to say that Pete was better on grass than on paper. Academically he wasn’t very bothered and left school after O Levels.
Pete was perfectly capable of playing 1st XV rugby for the Old Boys but had suffered a motorbike accident and had to have a kidney removed. The doctors advised him not to risk an injury to his remaining kidney by playing rugby. But this was Pete and he never allowed good advice to influence his actions! The advice was duly ignored and he enjoyed many years of old boys rugby in the lower teams with his mates where in those days he could have a fag or perhaps some beer at half time.
Having left school Pete spent a short time training to become a surveyor but jumped ship to join Harlow Meyer as a money broker on the advice of his father, who was a director of Rothschild. At Harlow’s, Peter acquired another nickname “Ada”, because there were too many Petes in the company. So his middle name was shortened to “Ada”. He was very successful at Harlow’s and became a director of the company. The company branched out and Pete left the UK to become MD of the Singapore office, followed by Bahrain and finally MD of the Australian office, from where he retired at the age of forty.
Pete met Jo Wans (as she was then) on Easter rugby tour to Burgh Island where she was visiting the owners. The relationship blossomed and he eventually proposed to her, at my wedding, having apparently been put under pressure by the Sisterhood. They married in 1973 and enjoyed more than forty years of marriage until, sadly, Jo succumbed to cancer in 2014. Charlotte was the happy result of their marriage and with her husband David, she added two grandchildren to the family.
Even though Pete and Jo spent a lot of time abroad, we were able to pick up our friendship where it left off whenever they returned to the UK. We went on some amazing trips with them to South America, Namibia, Tasmania – to name but a few. They were great travelling companions, even though they invariably beat us at cards.
He had some great qualities. He was fiercely loyal to his friends and returned from Australia to the UK at the age of forty to spent his time with them. He was generous to a fault and had a great sense of humour.
He read voraciously and therefore had a strong opinion about absolutely everything, which he was very happy to share with you, and very simply, if you didn’t share his opinion you were simply wrong!
Following Jo’s unexpected death in 2014, Pete hit a black hole. He was not surprisingly depressed and feeling lonely. Happily he managed to get through this dark period and started socialising again, until four years ago, he met Vickie and returned to being his old self. They moved in together, but sadly their happiness was all too short-lived and came to an end far too quickly. He was diagnosed with Myeloma and passed away on 15th July this year.
Pete goes back more than sixty years and many OMTs will remember the great times we enjoyed together at Durrants and Burgh Island in particular. We will all miss him enormously.
Geoff Hartley (1960-1966)
Like Peter and many others, I was a “Baby Boomer” – in the ‘50’s we were referred to as “The Bulge Years”. Having “graduated” from Upper IVd, I met Peter in SDb. He was a chubby chap, and so played for the 1st XV, unlike me – lost somewhere in the Water Meadows, playing for the School 17th XV.
A few of us, Peter included, discovered that if you volunteered for the Cops’ Band, then you were excused the Friday parades and square-bashing. So, along with various others from SDb, we all “joined up”. To qualify exemption from parade duties, we had to “practice” our musical skills during at least two lunch-hours per week. This was no hardship, and probably helped to prevent us from all catching emphysema from smoking too much at lunchtimes. And so it was, the motley SDb crew started their military musical careers: Peter and Roger Morris on bugles, myself and Chris Keville on side drums and Colin Heck on the “big bass-drum”, the skin of which he managed to break – probably to get time off from the Manor to take it to London for repairs.
Another “wheeze” to get off another school duty occurred later that year. Some of us did not, and still do not, understand the rudiments of cricket. Thus, I was elected to speak with Dick Hawkey, the Sports Master, to negotiate an alternative. “Mr Hawkey, I wish to be excused cricket”, I started. “Why, Blowfield, do you have a letter from your parents or family Doctor?”, he replied. “No, Sir, it’s just that I do not understand the rudiments of cricket. How can one team bat for five hours, and then the other team has just two hours, before darkness, to catch up?”. “Well, you have a point”, he replied, “But what do you propose for Wednesday and Saturday afternoons?”. “Sir, please look up the hill to those trees. Behind them, is Sandy Lodge Golf Course. As I started playing golf three years ago, then I would very much like to continue.” Hawkey replied, “Alright, if you can find three others to make up a four-ball, then you be excused cricket and play golf instead.” Within 15 minutes, I had the other three players: Graham Stradling, Geoff Hartley and Peter Hawes. What a wonderful alibi we four had, on Wednesdays and Saturdays, to cycle off to Watford and take in an X-rated film at one of the “flea-pits” there.
And so to Easter Tours. Of course, Peter played for the Senior XV, against Teignmouth, Plymouth Albion and Bath, whilst others of us contended against Plymouth Jesters and Dartmouth Old Boys. But Sundays were a “free day”, normally spent at the Bolt Head Hotel in Salcombe, drinking Black Velvets, kindly sponsored by the “Two Den’s” – Watkins and Heck Snr’s. One year, I was returning to Burgh Island in Peters’ MGB (the MGB was at the time “The OMT Car”). We were travelling at some speed along one of those typical Devon lanes, with high grassy banks either side of the road. As we approached a bend in the road, Peter sounded his horn – but too late – as an Austin A30, driven by an “elderly Gentleman” landed right on the front bumper. Peter was not amused, and clearly shaken, “I beeped my horn”, he exclaimed, “but you didn’t answer”.
A couple of summers later, Peter along with Graham Turton, Andrew Lewis and me, spent a fortnight in Ibiza. This was the ‘60’s and things were very cheap, which was just as well, because it was the days of the “£50 travel allowance”. In fact, in some bars you had to order two drinks at a time, because the local currency was too big to pay for just one. Peter, a lover of good food, could not deal with la cocina Española. So, at breakfast, he would retrieve a bread roll and retire to the Bar for a couple of “Noddies” (Pernod). Later on, during our stay, we bumped into Graham Willcox - no, not “T-Rex” Willcox - but Graham, the deputy Headmaster to Peter Norman at St John’s Prep School, better known as Captain of the OMT Extra B team. Graham was on his Honeymoon with his bride, Heather, and was catching up on his personal best total of the number of “Cuba Librés” consumed in a 24 hour period. Peter immediately offered to be his “pace-man”.
In the late ‘60’s, the Annual Society Dinner was held on the second Monday in December. That being the eve of the Varsity Match, OMTs from far and wide could make the crusade to London, enjoy the dinner, stay overnight and recover in some “fresh” air at Twickers the next day.
Many of us know that Peter was both a “good sport” and a “sporting man”. Nothing gave him more pleasure than sitting at a Black Jack table, with a glass of whisky. As was his wont, after the Society Dinner, Peter would retire to the “rooms” of the Knightsbridge Sporting Club – for some “sport at the tables”. We “lesser mortals” would tag along with him, mainly because they served a “full English” at that Club, which was complimentary. Of course, “all dressed-up” in our DJ’s, we looked the part as players.
Normally, around 4am, and having lost our train fares home, we would leave. But, one year the Gods looked down upon Peter. However he bet, he came up a winner – much to his own amazement. Meanwhile, we others were enjoying our complimentary “full English”. After about an hour, we returned to the table and espied a mountain of chips in front of Peter. Thus, we took him by the elbow and suggested “quitting whilst ahead” might be a good choice. He agreed, and we took chauffeured taxis back home to Metroland.
Not only that, but Peter – generous to a fault – invited us all to dine at the “French Horn” at Sonning, the following Saturday. The claret that he ordered was superb, the food delicious and for many of us, it was the first time that we experienced “silver service à table”.
What a celebration – cheers to you, Pete, I hope that the “tables” are kind to you up there.
Ian Blowfield (1960-1963)