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Maurice Cronly 1957-1962

After a successful education at Beaumont, Maurice went to New College, Oxford, where he read PPE.

Following this, he worked with one of Unilever's many subsidiaries in marketing, but it was not long before he realised that he would rather be a large cog in a small wheel than a small cog in a big wheel.  In 1979he set up and ran Disposition, a large manufacturing business making whiteboards, which were very new at the time.  The factory was moved to France in 1992.

The war in Croatia, which began in 1991, changed his life for ever.  His many travels in the former Yugoslavia with his brother John and others, had led to a great friendship with a Croatian doctor.  Maurice, volunteering with the charity BritAid, drove an ambulance full of medical supplies from London to his hospital in Zadar.  By this time he spoke the language well enough to be able to provide valuable support to British plastic surgeons, whom he accompanied to hospitals in several war zones.

Maurice was concerned by some of the bad practice he saw with respect to the distribution of financial aid.  He approached the Charities Aid Foundation, who appointed him as their Regional Development Director for Central & Eastern Europe and he spent time working in Bulgaria.  Then between 1999 and 2007 Maurice and his wife lived and worked in Zagreb, Croatia, and then in Ankara, Turkey, where he led projects for USAID, Ramboll, the British Council and the Icon Institute, focusing on civil society development.  He retired in 2012. 

He was a LibDem Councillor in Lambeth in the 1990s and latterly he continued to involve himself in local planning issues, dedicated to preserving the conservation area status of Stockwell, south London, the area he and his wife had lived in for over 50 years.  They had a son and a daughter and six grandchildren, to whom he was devoted.

Unfortunately, ill health crept up on him over these last few years and he died at home in November 2022, surrounded by his family.

His was certainly a life worth lived and appreciated by many both here and abroad.


Anthony Miles 1947-1956

Anthony was born in Funchal Madeira in 1937 where his family had been for generations. His father Cecil gave the Statue of Our Lady of Fatima that was in The White House. Anthony was sent initially to St Johns  before Beaumont  where he proved a good rugby player, a Colour and Vice-captain : he was also Vice captain of the School.. He then did further studies at the Sorbonne before Peterhouse Cambridge for Anthropology. He did not return to Madeira till the 1960s to join the family firm  sounded in 1814 and famed for their wines and particularly Madeira. Anthony expanded the business adding Coral Beer and the Brisa Maracuja brand.  

He  was a successful businessman, who stood out for his public participation as president of the Funchal Commercial and Industrial Association from 1997 to 2003. He remained a British Citizen by choice. He died on Christmas Day  2020.


Guy Wallace (58)

From the Daily Telegraph:

Guy Wallace, buccaneer of the hunting world, gundog trainer and old Africa hand who lived ‘off-grid' in an old caravan.

Despite stabs at conformity, Wallace was, in the words of his favourite poet Robert Service, one of 'The Men That Don't Fit In'.

Guy Wallace, who has died aged 81, was a colourful character in the hunting world, a kennel-man, gundog trainer, big game hunter, mercenary and author. In 2017 he became the subject of a documentary, The End of the Game, in which the film-maker David Graham Scott accompanied Wallace to South Africa, where, aged 73 and lame, he hunted down an aged but still dangerous Cape buffalo. Graham Scott, a committed vegan, called his documentary a "poetic study of a relic from the colonial period".

A throwback to the age of Empire, Wallace could have walked out of a novel by G A Henty or H Rider Haggard. He usually sported a big moustache and whiskers (which, he was clear, were "buggers' grips" rather than sideburns, a pipe and a blue and white spotted neckerchief. In spite of his stabs at conformity he was, in the words of his favourite poet, Robert Service, one of "The Men That Don't Fit In."

Between 2002 and 2017 he lived off-grid in a caravan and a fallen-down , two-room "but and ben" cottage on the Thrubster estate, just south of Wick in the far north of Scotland. He stalked deer for the pot and for company, kept several pointers and a parrot called Jambo, with whom he conversed in Swahili learnt from his days in Africa. The parrot could also speak English, "Guy Wallace speaking" being his most fluent sentence (mimicking his master on his mobile phone).

Ian Guy Hamilton Wallace was born at Epsom on September 8 1941, the second of five children in a Catholic military family. His father John had a dental practice off Sloane Square and was on the hunt committee of the Chiddingfold Farmers in Sussex: all the children were encouraged, and brought up, to hunt. Their mother Maureen, a nurse, was matron at Pony Club camps.

Wallace attended the Catholic Beaumont College in Old Windsor and rowed and played rugby to a decent standard. He kept hawks as a boy and in later life trained and flew a red-tailed buzzard.

In 1961 he entered the Royal Military Academy, Sandhurst, where he was the cadet huntsman of the Sandhurst beagles, mentored by the legendary huntsman Roy Clinkard, who hunted the Aldershot beagles nearby. He played polo at Sandhurst and, later, in Rhodesia (as it then was) and Argentina. "They paid me to hunt all winter and play polo all summer," he once said of his Army days.

Commissioned into the Gordon Highlanders as a second lieutenant, Wallace was seconded to 2 Para. While stationed at Fort George, near Inverness, he hunted for two seasons with the Linlithgow and Stirlingshire. He then saw service in Kenya and Borneo.

As a contract officer, he joined the Sultan of Oman's Armed Forces as a captain, then the Abu Dhabi Defence Force. The adjutant, however, arranged for him to leave speedily when he started firing his pistol into his soldiers' tents to get them out of bed.

Wallace's attention rarely stood still. Ignoring Robert Service's advice about those who "chop and change, and each fresh move/is only a fresh mistake", he spent two years farming 40,000 head of cattle in Rhodesia, where he perfected his skills as a tracker, shooting buffalo that threatened the herd, and once even a leopard. He then headed to South America, where he broke in horses in Paraguay.

In the early 1970s he returned to England and set up a farming practice with an old army chum near Bodmin Moor and hunted with the East Cornwall foxhounds. Before this partnership failed, he flew sparrow hawks to catch magpies and met his future wife Marian, whom he married on the Glorious Twelfth in 1975.

For the next five seasons, Wallace's peripatetic journey saw him as kennel man to three packs of foxhounds: the Croome and West Warwickshire(1975-77), the Flint and Denbigh(1977-79) and the South Hereford(1979-80). The role-looking after the hounds and running the fallen stock collection service-was an unusual one for a privately educated army officer. He occasionally whipped in and hunted the hounds when the professional huntsman was indisposed.

Wallace next turned his hand to becoming a shoot keeper and training gun dogs. He was the author of several books, including The Versatile Gundog(1995), Training Dogs for Woodland Deer Stalking(1998) and The Specialist Gundog(2000).

Wallace and his wife Marian set up the Warren Gundog Centre in Llandefalle, Brecon, which they ran for 15 years. At the same time Wallace ran a shoot at Aramstone in Herefordshire for John Williams, father of the National Hunt trainer Venetia Williams.

On the move again, in 2002 Wallace moved alone into his caravan on the Thrubster estate, half an hours's drive from John O'Groats, where he farmed and culled deer. (By the end of his life, he estimated he had shot more than 1000 deer). He and Marian were divorced in 2007.

It was at Thrubster that David Graham Scott first encountered Wallace. The End of the Game, punctuated with occasional expletives and sympathetic wisdoms from Wallace, throws the odd couple together on a game reserve in South Africa for 10 days. :He was certainly not politically correct" Graham Scott said. On the first night, after too much brandy, Wallace lost his false teeth.

By the end of filming, however, Graham Scott felt his own views on hunting soften: "He is hunting and stalking an animal that's lived a life in the wild and doesn't know what's going on until a bullet obliterates it. That is better than some poor hen living in a battery cage or a pig in those horrible pens."

The hunter, meanwhile, had a chance to articulate his misunderstood code of conduct: "The whole thing is about getting as close as you can to the quarry for a humane kill….For me, that's the ethics of it, which seem to be going out of every bloody thing these days. Or perhaps I'm just an old fuddy-duddy".

He would not shoot within 500 yards of his vehicle, or anywhere near a waterhole. "The animals need their water…so to ambush them at a waterhole absolutely stinks."

For his 70th birthday Wallace was given a camouflaged Zimmer frame by his army friends, complete with a tray to hold a bottle of Scotch. Despite insisting that he would be happy to die in the "Eden of Africa", his last residence , after a sojourn in Spain, was in the Shropshire countryside.

In the words of Robert Service, which Wallace quotes at the close of The End of the Game: "He is one of the legion lost. He was never meant to win. He's a rolling stone, and it's bred in the bone, He's a man who won't fit in."

Guy Wallace is survived by a son and daughter.

Guy Wallace 8/9/1941 to 18/3/2023.


Robert Cameron McIntosh (56)

Robert Cameron McIntosh, was born on the 30 May,1938 – second child to Margaret and Duncan, and brother to Ann.

He grew up in Acton, in the family home, which was also his father's surgery, so children were. seen but not heard. At 13, he moved to Beaumont  where he met a life- long friend in Peter Collins. Peter later became a serious rival on the squash court for many, many years.

Leaving school in 1956, he  joined the Army to fulfil his National Service.  He was posted to Scotland to join the Black Watch  in 1957, serving in North Africa and Cyprus and 'achieving the highest military grading for conduct.  

He took up a role as a Shipping trading assistant and worked for three years in  Singapore.

In1965 he returned to London working for Goodyear tyres until his journey with The.   Metropolitan Police began in September, 1968. He married his wife Sylvia in October 1974 and celebrated their honeymoon in The Bahamas. They then set up home in Stanmore.

After several years as a uniform officer, Special Branch was his calling. Years of undercover work, in political and terrorism operations led to a life of the unknown to his children and wife.  His line of duty, discretion, and professionalism was nothing short of ‘exemplary'; the lasting phrase the Met Police used upon his retirement.

A keen sportsman, showcasing great talent on the tennis and squash court, a keen cricketer (losing his two front teeth in his early days to a cricket ball), a dedicated rugby fan of both Scotland and England. His face, whenever we beat the French was one of utter joy and always remembered. Another love was his  whisky - Hardly surprising when his ancestors founded the Glenmorangie distillery in Scotland, although Glenfiddich was his preferred choice!

In 2005 He and his wife moved to their "perfect home" in Meavy, West Devon. Here he soon became involved in running the Village Hall and playing Bridge. He even took part in the Village Panto.

Robert invested much of his life to God and the Church and this guided his life: a family man with four children, high standards and a strong work ethic. He was also a true wordsmith and documented his life through letters: his ability to set the scene , convey a message and tell a story were said to be remarkable. Robert ( Bob) died in March at the age of 84. 


Professor Peter Richard Pouncey

Peter was a British-American author, classicist, and former president of Amerhurst College.  He was known for his wit, his erudition, and his sophisticated works of both academic analysis and fiction.

The son of a British father and an Anglo/French mother, he was born in Tsingtao , China At the end of WW2  after several dislocations and separations, his family reassembled in England  Pouncey was educated there at Beaumont following his brother Michael (51) and Oxford  For a time, he studied for the Jesuit priesthood but ultimately experienced a loss of faith.

Shortly after obtaining a Ph.D. from Columbia  in 1969, he was appointed assistant professor of Greek and Latin in the Classics Department. In 1972, he became Dean of Columbia College.  As Dean, he was a forceful advocate of coeducation, going so far as to hold a faculty vote without the knowledge of the university's president, William McGill. McGill rejected the proposal so  In 1976, Pouncey resigned as Dean. As a member of the Classics Department, he produced a number of notable works of scholarship, including the book The Necessities of War: A Study of Thucydides' Pessimism, which won the university's Lionel Trilling Award.

In 1984, he became President of Amherst  Upon his retirement in 1994, he returned to Columbia. His novel Rules for Old Men Waiting won the McKitterick and was nominated for  Commonwealth Writers Prize in 2006.

For many years, Pouncey divided his time between New York and northern Connecticut.

Pouncey had two biological children and one step-child. He was married and divorced three times. His second wife, Susan Rieger, author of The Divorce Papers and The Heirs, is a former administrator at Yale and Columbia Universities. Their daughter, Maggie Pouncey, is the author of the novel Perfect Reader. His third wife, Katherine Dalsimer, is a Clinical Professor of Psychology at Weill Medical College of Cornell University, and an author.




David was born in Chelsea in 1947 and spent his early years in Ingatestone in Essex, attending St John's Beaumont and Beaumont College in Windsor. After leaving school, he worked for a year for the Marconi company before going up to Trinity college Oxford to study Engineering, a college that his father and cousins had attended before him. On leaving the university he went to work for Posford, Pavry and Partners Consulting Engineers. Little did he know that years later his son Edward would by chance meet and marry the Granddaughter of one of the senior partners.

His engineering career provided him with many and varied opportunities. He spent one Christmas period for example on a dhow in the Persian Gulf undertaking port surveys.

Shortly after he returned from this, he met our mother Tricia and they married four months later.  Immediately after the wedding, they went for his work to Sydney, Australia for three years, followed by a 6 months overland trip to England using local transport the whole way. Various adventures on this trip included pneumonia in Kabul, a pick pocket in an Indian night market, a curfew in another town with armoured vehicles going past, and a two-and-a-half-week self-organised trek in Nepal.

David did a masters in Southampton University on his return and then worked for a firm using computational methods to study phenomena governed by the principles of mechanics.

It was at this time that Edward was born and two years later the family went to Boston, Massachusetts for his work and to live for a year. In spare time they did lots of exploring and travelling within the States and came into contact with some Canadian relatives. Unfortunately, as Edward was so young, he didn't appreciate the fact that he visited so many places and was really happy wherever he went.

After returning to the UK David took another job in offshore engineering, specifically the foundations for windfarms, which he worked in and found very interesting for the rest of his career.

Alex was born some time after his return and Claire some three years later. After Alex was born, the family moved to Odiham and lived here for 35 years. Over the period he joined various clubs and societies and his claim to fame was that he wound the church clock at the top of the bell tower every weekend for 25 years. He took us to the very top of the tower on several occasions, with incredible views over the whole of Odiham, which one probably couldn't do nowadays.

Daughter Alex ( Gold Medal Olympian- Hockey):-

Dad was always very encouraging of our activities enjoying Edward's music, Alex's hockey playing and Claire's triathlon. He was always willing to have a go at things whether it be rock climbing, paddle boarding or surfing and enjoyed holidays and outings with us all.

In his retirement we continued to enjoy our family holidays down to our favourite spots in Cornwall. Without a shadow of a doubt these holidays are the reason we all have a love of the outdoors.

Dad was the kindest and gentlest of souls. He was a true gentleman, and I have so many memories of him that I will always cherish, - our trips to Alton Hockey club when I was younger, our holidays in Cornwall when even in the pouring rain Dad and Mum would head into the sea, the endless hockey games he would watch and him walking me down the aisle when I got married.

I admired Dad's intelligence so much, although I have to admit, unlike Claire and Ed, I could never entertain many of his in-depth conversations about quantum mechanics. So much of our time together was spent at hockey, where Dad supported me unwaveringly. But not just me, he was always the first to congratulate others on a good game and he still supported the team after I retired. His loyalty to all things, including this, never faltered.

In recent years Dad and I would walk in the New Forest, Odiham and head down to Leap beach. I loved chatting to Dad but we were also so happy in ‘companionable silence', as Mum calls it. We didn't always have to talk, company was always enough. It is perhaps some of these times that I will miss the most, but I am so grateful that I have them to remember so fondly.

So much of who I have become comes from Dad, all that he taught me, all I saw in him and the experiences we shared.

Daughter Claire  ( European Para=Triathlon Champion)

I count myself incredibly lucky to have inherited Dad's love of Maths and Science; to the extent that I now work as a Maths and Science tutor. Dad wasn't one for idle chat, but I used to love how passionate he would be when we talked about Science. Anything from windfarms, to space, to his own engineering exploits. In truth, sometimes Dad was too intelligent for me. I think he was too intelligent for most people. But he never realised just how clever he was, and that was Dad; incredibly modest, extremely hard working and always willing to pass on his knowledge.

I will miss showing him the latest GCSE questions I am teaching my students and miss his genuine enthusiasm as he would take the harder ones off to do himself; always fascinated to see the type of Maths being taught in Schools these days. And whenever I write a new question or research a new topic, I will think so fondly of all the times we had together and all the many interesting things he taught me.

Dad was the very best of fathers, a wonderful grandfather and of course a totally devoted husband to our mum.



His son John spoke at his wake at Sunningdale Golf Club:-

Today we mourn his passing, but we must also remember to celebrate a life well lived.

Our father was born in 1928 in the city state of Penang, an entity that no longer exists, in a world that few of us today would recognise. The King Emperor George V reigned over an empire at its apogee, of which Penang was a small and distant part. 

Pa returned as a boy to Britain on the steamship Rawalpindi, the family eventually settling in Windsor. Cycling to school at Beaumont during WW2, he would sometimes cross paths with the young Princesses Elizabeth and Margaret Rose walking in the Great Park. At Beaumont, he excelled at several sports - playing cricket at Lords - and it was here he discovered his passion for golf, a passion which took him to play in the Open in 1952, to win numerous trophies and play with legends such as Sir Henry Cotton and Severiano Ballesteros, and which he enjoyed well into his 70s, when old age and the dislocated shoulders he suffered as a result of joining in his children's passion for skiing brought an end to his playing career.

After Beaumont, he went up to Cambridge, where he played golf for his College and for the University, beating Oxford in the Varsity and earning a Blue. There followed stints at Harvard and Bart's, and he embarked on his medical career, which to him was a vocation far more than a job, and which meant he never felt that work was a chore.

He established a reputation as a master surgeon, with patients including royal families from around the world, politicians, billionaires, actors and rock stars. Whatever their station in life, his patients were treated with courtesy, respect, care and patience. He continued to work for the NHS almost from its inception until his retirement, dedicating long hours to his surgery and teaching practice at the Royal Free Hospital.

Retiring from medicine at 67, he then started a second career as a specialist in religious art, gaining a third Master's degree and publishing several books.

An African proverb says ‘When an old man dies, a library burns to the ground', and what a library he was! But he carried his knowledge and wisdom lightly, always thoughtful and considered, never overbearing.

With his ability to speak numerous languages and his keen interest in etymology, Pa would doubtless have spotted the errant Latin ‘sub' that crept over onto the English side of the Order of Service today but he would have forgiven it, perhaps drawing a parallel with the deliberate error he reminded us was always woven into Persian carpets (another subject on which he was an expert) because only God can be perfect.

The kindness and generosity of spirit he displayed as a doctor, as a father, as a husband, a colleague and a friend were all underpinned by his incredibly strong faith. Never dogmatic, and always aware of human frailty, his pragmatism, kindness and Christian faith guided him throughout his life.

One aspect of losing someone close to you that I can only describe as bittersweet is the experience of finding out only after they've died about acts of kindness and things they did for others that you'll no longer be able to talk about with them or ever be able to thank them for.

For example:

The confidential advice, support and assistance given to a school friend at a difficult time in their life and still remembered with gratitude 30 years on;

A fellow parishioner alive thanks in part to Lionel's pioneering work on transplant surgery;

And for me, one of the most touching things was finding in his bedside drawer, more precious than any baubles or trinkets given by grateful sheiks, a collection of cards and telegrams congratulating him on his engagement to Angela, our mother, carefully looked after for 52 years. To me, this demonstrates that he felt that meeting and marrying her was the best thing to happen to him in his life, and it was the event which brought him the most happiness. We all share in our mother's sense of loss today.

I wasn't sure whether to end with a moment of silence, a prayer, or a toast. We have said our prayers, for which many thanks to Father Biggerstaff, and we had our moment of silence at the graveside, and so now, I think, the best way to celebrate his memory is to take a moment to recall and to cherish some of the wonderful memories, moments of happiness, and little acts of kindness we have all experienced, and to raise a glass to a life well lived.


Dr. James Vincent "Jim" O'BRIEN (54)

Canadian Chronical Herald:-

Athlete, environmentalist, psychiatrist, voracious reader, writer, story-teller, carpenter, windsurfer, kayaker, skier, father, grandpa, husband, friend, devotee of Leatherman multi-tools and duct tape.

Jim and his two brothers spent their childhood on the old family farm in Ireland. His adventures and observations of life in County Cork in the 1940s were the material for many of his stories. Both parents were doctors in London during the Second World War, so the boys were brought up by two aunts, a cohort of much-admired farm workers, and a nanny who could never find them, let alone get them to put their shoes on. As a result, Jim had a lifelong aversion to socks and couldn't read until he went to boarding school at age 10. The first book he came across was Caesar's Gallic Wars. He never looked back.

At Trinity College Dublin, Jim captained the rowing team while studying medicine. He may have graduated sooner had sports and pubs not taken precedence over his anatomy exams. It was also at university that he met Heather Laskey, his future wife.

If vehicles were an indicator of immigrant success, Jim was on a downward trajectory. The couple's first move to Canada in 1965 was accompanied by their vintage Rolls Bentley which provided a stately drive across the continent to Watson Lake, Yukon where Jim worked as a general practitioner. Settling in Halifax in 1976, Jim purchased a series of vehicles, each one, as far as his children were concerned, more embarrassing than the previous (for heaven's sake, he was now a psychiatrist!). The decline culminated with the purchase of a Soviet-era Skoda in the mid-80's which for weeks included a loudly flapping piece of plastic for a window.

Jim moved his practice to Cape Breton so that he could more easily enjoy nature and outdoor pursuits like kayaking and cross-country skiing. He was a founding member of the Bras d'Or Stewardship Society, serving as a board member for 20 years, and generously supported other environmental organizations. He was also well-known for sharing his disapproval of recreational vehicles. After vehemently voicing his annoyance about a near miss with a snowmobiler, a local humourist sign-posted the trail "O'Brien's Lament".

A sartorial trendsetter and the envy of many a man, Jim set the bar high. He wore his old Irish sweaters (more holes, patches and duct tape than wool) with panache. Nevertheless, he always looked stylish at social events, and according to CBC radio host Steve Sutherland, may have been the only person on Cape Breton Island who could pull off wearing a cravat.

As a psychiatrist Jim took pride in serving far-flung communities in Cape Breton – few winter blizzards prevented "Dr. Tune-Up" from seeing his patients. Although he extolled the advancements of anti-depressants, he did not hesitate to call out the manipulations of "Big Pharma". This was a bummer for his less scrupulous children, who pined to go on holidays to exotic locales on the company dime.

Possessing a powerful intellect and curiosity, Jim was known for his story-telling and wit. He wrote two memoirs: Willowbrook, a Flawed Eden and He's Around Here Somewhere.

A skilled carpenter, he crafted beautiful salad bowls, plates, chairs and intricate dollhouses as well as sometimes aesthetically dubious household ‘improvements'. He was very proud that the Wren's Nest Pub in Dublin, Ireland (est. 1588!) still bears a sign he carved in the early 1970's.

In his mid-60's after undergoing quadruple by-pass surgery, he set himself three major goals: kayak from Halifax to his Cape Breton home, swim a mile across the Bras d'Or Lakes and cross-country ski across the Cape Breton highlands. All successfully completed.

The great sadness of Jim's life was the death of his first-born child, Harry. Like many of his generation, his grief was private though ever-present; he rarely spoke of it, a burden he kept with him to the end of his life.

Jim died surrounded by family in Cape Breton Regional Hospital. He leaves his wife Heather, who has lost her best companion; their children, Finn (Sachiko), Rebecca (Lars) and Minga (Chris); grandchildren, Olivia and Freddy; his older brother, Dick (Catherine), and many nieces, nephews, and friends. A full life: well lived, much loved. He and his stories will be missed terribly.