Peter Parsons I first met David in Bombay, now called Mumbai, where I worked between 1955 and the 25th January 1957. I know well that that January date, my wedding day with Zoe Cooper, a lovely 23 year old Dorset lady out on a years visit to stay with her mother and step-father. My employers, the Hong Kong and Shanghai Bank, imposed a 4 year marriage ban on its first tour international officers. Hence our marriage in Bombay took place at the end of my tour. How things have changed! I'm not sure whether such rules existed at David's firm, the Bombay Burmah Trading Company, I hope not. The younger European set, mostly British, made the most of our short weekends (as Saturday mornings were generally working hours). I got to know David at beach parties at Marby some 30 miles north of the city and up country visits staying overnight at small government bungalows one could rent. I remember David enthusing about learning to fly gliders at a club near the Gart hill escarpments. Puna was not far away. This interest in flying extended to purchasing a home-made autogyro built by two Indian gentlemen. It provoked much hilarity when we first set eyes upon it - constructed with what looked like a metal scaffolding pole, 4 pram wheels, a lever for the pilot to alter the pitch of the 20 foot wooden blade, but no engine! Zoe and I plus a few others were enlisted by David to help with the initial trials at a disused airstrip. The plan involved towing the machine behind our car, attached to a lengthy rope with David at the gyro controls. Steerage was a problem! It swung wildly from side to side, nearly overturning. After a couple more attempts David agreed it would never get off the ground! However it's propeller disk did rotate very nicely!! David very kindly agreed to be my Best Man. He performed his duties diligently especially at the rather wild stag night, seeing I kept out of mischief. Alas over the years we lost track, due to my career in the Far East. However on retirement, I discovered when moving to Somerset that David lived not so far away. Visits to Trowell farm, such a unique place and setting were fun. I took him sailing to explore South Brittany during July 1990, along with a banking colleague Peter Maile - good companions they were. I looked forward to David's invitation to join him on his annual farmers shoot. Latterly he asked me if he might share my gun, as his was out of action. We took turns using it on alternative beats, the other taking care of loading and giving critical advice on our frequent misses. There is no doubt we were both bad shots. Never mind - a lot of laughs - and curses too. A friendship spanning 60 years is something to cherish. Along with his family and many friends, I will miss him. Good memories never die. Thank the Lord! Amen.