From Edward Jackson: The memory perhaps plays tricks, but I’m fairly certain I first chanced upon Nigel outside Brasenose as I was walking from Oriel over to Trinity one day. Maybe it was the fact that we were both wearing our hair fashionably long or I noticed that irrepressible twinkle in his eyes, but we struck up a conversation and a friendship developed that eventually led to our sharing our ‘year out’ at Lower Whitley Farm near Farmoor. In those days I was ‘Ed’ and Peter Friend, Jonathan Gregson and Peter Mann were our housemates, with Johnny Carmichael and others in the cottage down the lane and Eric Meyer back in town. Oxford days over, early in 1975 my first real job took me to Flatford Mill in south Suffolk, only a 20 minute drive from Nigel’s family home in Boxford. For a few months on enjoyable nights out with his family and local friends we relived the camaraderie of the previous three years - until I moved to be a Field Teacher in the Yorkshire Dales and we sort of lost touch with each other as I rarely ventured south. Eventually, I did return to Flatford Mill in 1986 as Head of Centre and was pleased to find Nigel managing an orchard at nearby Spouse’s Grove. We met up several times, but then I think he moved away and I lost touch again - the old story of work imperatives taking over. Now I’m recalling Jackson Browne’s words in his ‘Song for Adam’ that a friend of mine is no longer with us – and I regret our paths didn’t cross more frequently in recent years as you were such great company to be with. Back during our time at Oxford, on a whim I had bought a calligrapher’s ink box from an antique shop on the High Street and as Nigel was reading Chinese, who better to translate for me the characters inscribed on the lid? He took the box away and a couple of days later gave me his considered thoughts as to what it said: Cherish this fool’s gold as if it were jade Love it and plough your field with the pen Let bounteous wealth flow from the myriad strokes And resting on the table, let it reflect the rays of the setting sun The box is on my table now. I’ll think of you Nigel whenever the sun catches that polished surface and am sure you’ll shine on in all our memories. Amitiés.