John Clay, what can I say… During his time working behind ‘the jump’ in the Battle of Trafalgar he would always have a cheeky smile and greet me, as he did many others, with, “You’re a scholar and a gentleman sir.” After I’d paid fro the drinks he would then say, “You’re a toff and no mistake.” In order to get the better of him I would occasionally come in with a lengthy and verbose request. “Oh for a draught of vintage,” I’d say, “that hath been cooled a long age in the deep delved earth, tasting of flora and the winter green, a beaker full of the blushful Hippocrene, with beaded bubbles winking at the brim.” John would maintain his benign smile, bat no eyelid, and say, “That’ll be a pint of bitter then.” The last time I saw him, only a few months before he died, he was explaining how he could hardly move his left arm. Knowing how important music had always been to him I asked him if he could play the guitar. Despite finding it somewhat difficult to speak, he gave me a wry smile, “Before you say anything,” he said, “I never could in the first place.” He then giggled at his correct anticipation of my next riposte. And that was John to me, and I’m sure to many others. A man who enjoyed a bit of banter – a toff, a scholar and a gentleman. And no mistake.