I was always massively fond of “Caspian’s little brother” and was lucky enough to spend a decent amount of time with Pasco in Ramsdean, Cornwall and France. Apart from the many hours wasted together playing N64 in Pasco’s room, which, naturally demanded the utmost concentration, what stuck out most about being in Pasco’s company was his cynical wit and the capacity he had to make me laugh all the time. I often spent nights in the house in Ramsdean with Caspian and my other Bedales friends, nights that were always greatly enhanced by Pasco’s laid-back presence. I think we all probably felt that he was a little bit cooler than we were, which wasn’t fair given that we were the elders but he was so modest that we couldn’t really hold it against him.
I’m going to seriously miss you Pasco and I’m genuinely so sorry that I won’t be able to make it to your send off. x
Dear Pasco,
You were kind, clever, talented, the sweetest baby and toddler, who grew up to be a lovely boy and then man, and we all feel so cheated that you’ve gone so suddenly. I wish I had been a better Godmother. It was a privilege to have known you, and if there is a heaven, I hope you are in green pastures, quiet waters by, at peace, as the salmon leap, and the trout swim in peaceful pools under willows. Love always.
Pasco taught me to fish last year, at meon springs. He was patient and kind and really made me feel relaxed about the whole thing. He kinda kick started my fly fishing thing which is quickly turning into an obsession. Lovely chap. thankyou….
I feel I didn’t know Pasco very well, having not seen him for 10 years now. Living in NZ,I am sad I never made it back to England in time to see him again but who could have known. My memories of Pasco are mostly of him teasing me, as young boys generally do to their girl cousins! but I had some great times staying at Hopkiln Cottage and no doubt he contributed to them. I always remember the guinea pigs in the little shed, I think we spent a lot of time playing with them.
It looks like Pasco grew into a wonderful person with many people who cared for him. It was a pleasure knowing you Pasco. xx
Pasco, I can’t beleive I won’t see you out here in New Zealand fishing up a storm in our trout rivers. Last time I saw you you were a mischevious little twelve year old….it’s my great loss that I didn’t get to meet you as an adult.
We talked last September, laughing about togs, jandals and other New Zealandisms and the NZ fishing opportunities. I shall I have to make do with that conversation and the sound of your voice over the phone.
“What is lovely never dies,
But passes into other loveliness,
Star-dust, or sea-foam, flower or winged air”
I remember Pasco well as a really young boy, around the age of maybe 4 or 6 years old. I live in Switzerland since many years and therefore did not see Pasco for quite a while. Then in summer 2007 we where invited to go and stay at there house in France. I was really happy to meet the wonderful young man Pasco had become. He was quite and thoughtful and very nice to be with. We spent some really nice days at the beach with him and he was so passionate about showing my children how to find crabs under the rocks. My children loved spending time with him. He showed them how to fish and carefully manoeuvred them into the art of bow and arrow mastery. Thank you Pasco!
I remember this little boy as teeny – he seemed small for his age, before he had the late teenage growth spurt – and I was a perplexed aunt at a a family gathering, being hugely entertained by a minuscule Pasco. He buzzed around, wearing a stripy top, looking like a seriously animated bee. Perplexed because I’d never seen such a buzzy tiny boy, whizzing around offering huge elders ( but not betters!) tea and buns; I thought I will scoop him up and take him home with me, he was so sweet. His mum Harriet showed me one of his favourite toys at the weekend; oh, what a surprise. It was a large, battered bee. Dearest Pasco. You are so missed.
We all have countless fond memories of Pasco; I am eternally grateful to him for mine.
I always had an admiration for Pasco. He was a true all-rounder without the slightest touch of smugness or arrogance. He managed to excel in every aspect of school life with his distinct brand of nonchalance. I first got to know Pasco in Latin classes where he had somehow managed to become top of the class after just two years against my five.
Pasco was the quintessential country boy, running around Butser hill trying to catch anything that moved. Though he tried, Pasco never did manage to get me into fishing although my first and only fish was caught under his supervision – a minnow under a motorway bridge in France.
When Pasco came to Oxford he phoned the college to make sure he had a bath in his room. He’d lie there with his Hemingway and his bath oils whilst the girls on his staircase would gossip and conspire to reel him in.
As I recall he was a pretty mean cook – obviously learned a trick or two from his mother (that said, he is the only person I’ve ever known to habitually enjoy sirloin steak for breakfast!) Many a sing along was enjoyed in the presence of cheap sherry; Oxford was the birthplace for quite a few childish songs.
Pasco was a kind and loveable character who brought a lot of smiles to the world. A dear friend, we’ll miss you mate.
I, like Harri, think that one of my fondest memories in recent times (not just of Pasco, but infact generally) was Christmas Day in 2008, which we were invited to share with Pasco, Caspian, Harriet and Peter.
I hadn’t seen Pasco for a while, and was struck by the dashing young man he had become, with a mischievous, Mr Willoughby-esque twinkle in his eye. He was charming, charismatic, thoughtful, funny and engaging to talk to.
He, Harri and Caspian then took turns playing the guitar and singing. Being a bit of a philistine when it comes to anything other than opera and classical music, there were several songs I loved but did not know (hitherto I had only ever associated Neil Young with such travesties as “Blue Jeans”!), and when I got home was inspired to rush out and expand my music collection.
Without wanting to get all Greek about this, the love and respect Pasco had for his mother was truly heartwarming. That evening he serenaded her, even playing some of the same songs twice at her request. It was lovely to see the affection and warmth which emanated from the family that day – it was clear how much they mean to each other and I can only hope that this is what will see them through.
Pasco played so effortlessly and with a talent that was inspiring, characteristics that seem to be pervasive to everything he did. It is truly heartbreaking that a man with such promise and hope for the future was halted in his prime, but if the thoughts and memories shared on this page are anything to go by, he has clearly touched and enriched the lives of many, and in that sense has achieved more during his short life than we can aspire to over the entire course of ours.
Pasco was certainly one of my absolute best friends. I met him at the start of my time at Bedales in 2000. I have many fond memories of “Gondola” antics and generally larking around in the history workroom.
I loved putting the world to rights through the night before walking round my garden with an air gun at dawn, shooting the tyre swing and dodging the rebounds…
Pasco caught “Gall 2” (the Miller’s Thumb which featured in a memorable scene of “Gondola”) with his hands!!!!!!!
I am indebted to Pasco for making me who I am today; I owe him for most of my guitar technique and repertoire, nearly all of my musical taste and absolutely ALL of my fishing skills (of which, there is sadly little to be desired).
It was a real honour to have known him and I know that I will not forget him. x
pasco i still cant belive your gonne. Just wish i could have speant more time with you .only known you for a while but seems like a hole lifetime, love you and miss you mate. And i will see you one day my dear friend just not yet. Love u and miss u ur friend jose.x
As a member of the ‘Pond Cottages clan’ I will always be proud to have known such a lovely, friendly and good looking guy.
Pasco, the great trout man, taught me how to catch my first fish, a very eventful afternoon as he couldn’t quite understand how I had a great ability to catch the reeds whilst casting out, never actually reaching the water. It was only with lots of assistance that I managed to eventually succeed. However, the challenge of gutting the fish fell to poor Harriet and Peter as I couldn’t face this task myself.
Pasco was a great guy and he will be missed by all of us at Ramsdean
I remember Pasco from my earliest days at Dunhurst. I once witnessed the two James brothers locked in mortal combat in the dungeon. Some impressive kicks were exchanged and Caspian definitely came off worse. I think I had a deep respect for Pasco from that moment on.
Anyway, more mundane memories include hanging around playing computer games and other harmless pursuits. I do recall many girls in my year saying what a fine young man they thought Pasco was, which always made me a bit jealous. And of course he was ace at guitar as well.
It’s tragic that he’s been taken away from us so soon.
I met Pasco when we started studying at Oxford in 2005.
I will always think of him as someone who seemed completely oblivious to how enormously talented, engaging, attractive and loved he was. He touched everyone who was lucky enough to know him and is someone I feel very, very proud to call my friend.
To my dear Pasco, you were the perfect young man with a great future. You had everything going for you; brains, kindness and good looks and most of all a love of nature.
The most beautiful memory I have of Pasco is on the beach in St. Jacut with Caspian and Jack laughing and having such a great time. You three tried to bury a very large, live, french dog. The dog did not seem to mind, I think he liked the attention.
I will always love you Pasco and never forget you XXXXXXX
In case Pasco’s many friends across the generations think this site is for ‘youff’ only, here’s an ‘old farts’ entry. So go for it, saga-louts.
I was lucky enough to know Pasco for eleven years. He was a lovely chap to have around the house, and there was never a dull moment. Music wafted down from his room, discussions around the dining table frequently expanded into reasoned arguments (that Pasco invariably won) and the carpets were strewn with freshly tied trout flies (that punctured un-shod feet). In every respect, Pasco had a ‘presence’ and was always fun.
Pasco was a countryman at heart. Encouraging him to take up trout fishing was easy. He excelled from the word go. But he was less keen on shooting pheasants, arguing that while you can return a trout to the river, it is less easy to return shot pheasant to the sky. Pasco humanism and logic at its best. We’ll all miss him terribly.
Pasco has left an imprint on me – a small, almost imperceptible, lighting bolt scar on my forehead. It happened, long before Harry Potter made such a wound fashionable, during a game of that most vicious of all sports, rounders. I was 7 and well positioned to make a comfortable catch. I called. Pasco was 7, perhaps hearing my call, perhaps not, ran ten metres, eyes fixed on the ball, and jumped to catch it. Neither of us caught it. Pasco sunk his teeth into my forehead. Or I headbutted his jaw. Either way, it was a bonding, if painful, moment.
This just one memory unrelated to anything at all except him. There are many more spanning fifteen years at school, many a happy day in Selbourne, holidays in Ireland and Cornwall, other less dangerous sporting experiences and great parties since. When someone you shared your childhood with dies there is no greater realisation that the childhood you enjoyed has gone. I am thrilled to have spent so much of it with Pasco. You will be greatly missed.
Pasco was one of the only people that I had known since the beginning of Dunannie. I can’t remember much from back then, so I suppose one of my earliest memories of him was at his 8th birthday party which all the boys in our class and me (I was always an honoury boy) had been invited to at his house in Selbourne. I think we spent the afternoon diving into the pool and taking turns to shoot balloons with an air rifle. Pasco was a good shot even then.
It was not long after this time that I began to really like Pasco, and sent him a card on Valentine’s Day. I had stupidly forgotten to disguise my handwriting, as this was possibly my first declaration of love to anyone, and was found out. Pasco had played detective and checked every girls writing in our class. I cowardly explained that one of my friends had asked me to write it on her behalf. I think he believed me.
This obsession carried on for at least another year until I finally summoned up the courage to ‘ask him out’ and we shared our first kiss. Although we never really went anywhere besides the playground I remember an occasion where my Dad picked both of us up from school and took us down to Hamble, where our yacht was moored. We sailed into the Solent and Pasco admitted he was very scared! He was a lot better standing near to the water and casting his fishing rod!
Around this time my Godfather Peter and Pasco’s mother, Harriet had become an item. I was delighted because it would mean I could see Pasco outside of school even more. They moved to the next village along from mine and I remember in the summer I would sometimes cycle over and play hours of Goldeneye on the N64 or Pasco would shoot me or some other unlucky person in the arse with his BBgun.
When he dumped me I really thought it was the end of the world and sang along to Stranded (“I don’t want to feel like I’m stranded, oh baby I don’t wanna be here alone…”) on my CD player for at least a week. About a month later I think we were back together anyway.
On my twelfth birthday I invited Pasco, Jack Closs and my friend Suzi over for ice skating and a sleepover. Pasco had smuggled some Sambuca in his bag and I tasted my first spirit. I thought it was disgusting but drank it anyway. We would get up to similar antics whilst holidaying in Polzeath and other family gatherings.
My favourite recent memory of Pasco is Christmas Day 2008. He looked really well and it was great to catch up and have a laugh over one of Harriet’s excellent suppers. After eating we passed around a guitar and everyone enjoyed quietly listening to Pasco play songs of Bob Dylan and Neil Young so brilliantly. In the last few days I have enjoyed listening to these songs and thinking of him.
I have many a fond memory of roaming around Selborne with Pasco, one of the fondest is of Pasco, Caspian and I walking down Gracious Street and agreeing with each other that we were ‘best friends’. I think Pasco was one of those lucky people whom everybody felt like they were best buddies with at one point!
I remember being amazed with the quick-sand Pasco had discovered by the river, we used to dare each other to stand in it for as long as possible! I remember being most impressed with Pasco’s sure sighted shot (air rifle, 2.2; 1.77 was for pussies!), I’ll spare you the details but we came home happy hunters many a time! We would reward our efforts by making a fire under the tree and if we had not eaten them all on the way back from the village shop, we would heat up a marshmallow or few!
Of the antics that went on in the back garden I remember being so grateful to Pasco for not being a wimp and extinguishing Freya’s shorts! We had very naughtily decided it would be funny to see if the (very likely to catch fire) tassels hanging from her shorts would take light!! hehe ‘What very silly boys’ I can hear our mothers saying!
Well, there are just a few from the early days, I will share more in due course.
I feel I should get this rolling. It’s not easy for anyone having a friend or family member die, but I want to concentrate on the happy memories and joy Pasco brought to the people he met.
We all knew Pasco for different lengths of time – I had him as brother for 22 years and I’m happy for that, but you did not have to know him long for him to leave a lasting impression.
Whatever your impressions or memories were, this site has been set up so we can all share them, have a laugh, and look back fondly. Don’t be reticent to say anything at all, it is all appreciated.
I was always massively fond of “Caspian’s little brother” and was lucky enough to spend a decent amount of time with Pasco in Ramsdean, Cornwall and France. Apart from the many hours wasted together playing N64 in Pasco’s room, which, naturally demanded the utmost concentration, what stuck out most about being in Pasco’s company was his cynical wit and the capacity he had to make me laugh all the time. I often spent nights in the house in Ramsdean with Caspian and my other Bedales friends, nights that were always greatly enhanced by Pasco’s laid-back presence. I think we all probably felt that he was a little bit cooler than we were, which wasn’t fair given that we were the elders but he was so modest that we couldn’t really hold it against him.
I’m going to seriously miss you Pasco and I’m genuinely so sorry that I won’t be able to make it to your send off. x
Dear Pasco,
You were kind, clever, talented, the sweetest baby and toddler, who grew up to be a lovely boy and then man, and we all feel so cheated that you’ve gone so suddenly. I wish I had been a better Godmother. It was a privilege to have known you, and if there is a heaven, I hope you are in green pastures, quiet waters by, at peace, as the salmon leap, and the trout swim in peaceful pools under willows. Love always.
Pasco taught me to fish last year, at meon springs. He was patient and kind and really made me feel relaxed about the whole thing. He kinda kick started my fly fishing thing which is quickly turning into an obsession. Lovely chap. thankyou….
I feel I didn’t know Pasco very well, having not seen him for 10 years now. Living in NZ,I am sad I never made it back to England in time to see him again but who could have known. My memories of Pasco are mostly of him teasing me, as young boys generally do to their girl cousins! but I had some great times staying at Hopkiln Cottage and no doubt he contributed to them. I always remember the guinea pigs in the little shed, I think we spent a lot of time playing with them.
It looks like Pasco grew into a wonderful person with many people who cared for him. It was a pleasure knowing you Pasco. xx
Pasco, I can’t beleive I won’t see you out here in New Zealand fishing up a storm in our trout rivers. Last time I saw you you were a mischevious little twelve year old….it’s my great loss that I didn’t get to meet you as an adult.
We talked last September, laughing about togs, jandals and other New Zealandisms and the NZ fishing opportunities. I shall I have to make do with that conversation and the sound of your voice over the phone.
“What is lovely never dies,
But passes into other loveliness,
Star-dust, or sea-foam, flower or winged air”
Journey well Pasco xxx
I remember Pasco well as a really young boy, around the age of maybe 4 or 6 years old. I live in Switzerland since many years and therefore did not see Pasco for quite a while. Then in summer 2007 we where invited to go and stay at there house in France. I was really happy to meet the wonderful young man Pasco had become. He was quite and thoughtful and very nice to be with. We spent some really nice days at the beach with him and he was so passionate about showing my children how to find crabs under the rocks. My children loved spending time with him. He showed them how to fish and carefully manoeuvred them into the art of bow and arrow mastery. Thank you Pasco!
I remember this little boy as teeny – he seemed small for his age, before he had the late teenage growth spurt – and I was a perplexed aunt at a a family gathering, being hugely entertained by a minuscule Pasco. He buzzed around, wearing a stripy top, looking like a seriously animated bee. Perplexed because I’d never seen such a buzzy tiny boy, whizzing around offering huge elders ( but not betters!) tea and buns; I thought I will scoop him up and take him home with me, he was so sweet. His mum Harriet showed me one of his favourite toys at the weekend; oh, what a surprise. It was a large, battered bee. Dearest Pasco. You are so missed.
We all have countless fond memories of Pasco; I am eternally grateful to him for mine.
I always had an admiration for Pasco. He was a true all-rounder without the slightest touch of smugness or arrogance. He managed to excel in every aspect of school life with his distinct brand of nonchalance. I first got to know Pasco in Latin classes where he had somehow managed to become top of the class after just two years against my five.
Pasco was the quintessential country boy, running around Butser hill trying to catch anything that moved. Though he tried, Pasco never did manage to get me into fishing although my first and only fish was caught under his supervision – a minnow under a motorway bridge in France.
When Pasco came to Oxford he phoned the college to make sure he had a bath in his room. He’d lie there with his Hemingway and his bath oils whilst the girls on his staircase would gossip and conspire to reel him in.
As I recall he was a pretty mean cook – obviously learned a trick or two from his mother (that said, he is the only person I’ve ever known to habitually enjoy sirloin steak for breakfast!) Many a sing along was enjoyed in the presence of cheap sherry; Oxford was the birthplace for quite a few childish songs.
Pasco was a kind and loveable character who brought a lot of smiles to the world. A dear friend, we’ll miss you mate.
I, like Harri, think that one of my fondest memories in recent times (not just of Pasco, but infact generally) was Christmas Day in 2008, which we were invited to share with Pasco, Caspian, Harriet and Peter.
I hadn’t seen Pasco for a while, and was struck by the dashing young man he had become, with a mischievous, Mr Willoughby-esque twinkle in his eye. He was charming, charismatic, thoughtful, funny and engaging to talk to.
He, Harri and Caspian then took turns playing the guitar and singing. Being a bit of a philistine when it comes to anything other than opera and classical music, there were several songs I loved but did not know (hitherto I had only ever associated Neil Young with such travesties as “Blue Jeans”!), and when I got home was inspired to rush out and expand my music collection.
Without wanting to get all Greek about this, the love and respect Pasco had for his mother was truly heartwarming. That evening he serenaded her, even playing some of the same songs twice at her request. It was lovely to see the affection and warmth which emanated from the family that day – it was clear how much they mean to each other and I can only hope that this is what will see them through.
Pasco played so effortlessly and with a talent that was inspiring, characteristics that seem to be pervasive to everything he did. It is truly heartbreaking that a man with such promise and hope for the future was halted in his prime, but if the thoughts and memories shared on this page are anything to go by, he has clearly touched and enriched the lives of many, and in that sense has achieved more during his short life than we can aspire to over the entire course of ours.
Pasco was certainly one of my absolute best friends. I met him at the start of my time at Bedales in 2000. I have many fond memories of “Gondola” antics and generally larking around in the history workroom.
I loved putting the world to rights through the night before walking round my garden with an air gun at dawn, shooting the tyre swing and dodging the rebounds…
Pasco caught “Gall 2” (the Miller’s Thumb which featured in a memorable scene of “Gondola”) with his hands!!!!!!!
I am indebted to Pasco for making me who I am today; I owe him for most of my guitar technique and repertoire, nearly all of my musical taste and absolutely ALL of my fishing skills (of which, there is sadly little to be desired).
It was a real honour to have known him and I know that I will not forget him. x
pasco i still cant belive your gonne. Just wish i could have speant more time with you .only known you for a while but seems like a hole lifetime, love you and miss you mate. And i will see you one day my dear friend just not yet. Love u and miss u ur friend jose.x
As a member of the ‘Pond Cottages clan’ I will always be proud to have known such a lovely, friendly and good looking guy.
Pasco, the great trout man, taught me how to catch my first fish, a very eventful afternoon as he couldn’t quite understand how I had a great ability to catch the reeds whilst casting out, never actually reaching the water. It was only with lots of assistance that I managed to eventually succeed. However, the challenge of gutting the fish fell to poor Harriet and Peter as I couldn’t face this task myself.
Pasco was a great guy and he will be missed by all of us at Ramsdean
I only wish I had got to know him better… x
I remember Pasco from my earliest days at Dunhurst. I once witnessed the two James brothers locked in mortal combat in the dungeon. Some impressive kicks were exchanged and Caspian definitely came off worse. I think I had a deep respect for Pasco from that moment on.
Anyway, more mundane memories include hanging around playing computer games and other harmless pursuits. I do recall many girls in my year saying what a fine young man they thought Pasco was, which always made me a bit jealous. And of course he was ace at guitar as well.
It’s tragic that he’s been taken away from us so soon.
I met Pasco when we started studying at Oxford in 2005.
I will always think of him as someone who seemed completely oblivious to how enormously talented, engaging, attractive and loved he was. He touched everyone who was lucky enough to know him and is someone I feel very, very proud to call my friend.
To my dear Pasco, you were the perfect young man with a great future. You had everything going for you; brains, kindness and good looks and most of all a love of nature.
The most beautiful memory I have of Pasco is on the beach in St. Jacut with Caspian and Jack laughing and having such a great time. You three tried to bury a very large, live, french dog. The dog did not seem to mind, I think he liked the attention.
I will always love you Pasco and never forget you XXXXXXX
In case Pasco’s many friends across the generations think this site is for ‘youff’ only, here’s an ‘old farts’ entry. So go for it, saga-louts.
I was lucky enough to know Pasco for eleven years. He was a lovely chap to have around the house, and there was never a dull moment. Music wafted down from his room, discussions around the dining table frequently expanded into reasoned arguments (that Pasco invariably won) and the carpets were strewn with freshly tied trout flies (that punctured un-shod feet). In every respect, Pasco had a ‘presence’ and was always fun.
Pasco was a countryman at heart. Encouraging him to take up trout fishing was easy. He excelled from the word go. But he was less keen on shooting pheasants, arguing that while you can return a trout to the river, it is less easy to return shot pheasant to the sky. Pasco humanism and logic at its best. We’ll all miss him terribly.
Pasco has left an imprint on me – a small, almost imperceptible, lighting bolt scar on my forehead. It happened, long before Harry Potter made such a wound fashionable, during a game of that most vicious of all sports, rounders. I was 7 and well positioned to make a comfortable catch. I called. Pasco was 7, perhaps hearing my call, perhaps not, ran ten metres, eyes fixed on the ball, and jumped to catch it. Neither of us caught it. Pasco sunk his teeth into my forehead. Or I headbutted his jaw. Either way, it was a bonding, if painful, moment.
This just one memory unrelated to anything at all except him. There are many more spanning fifteen years at school, many a happy day in Selbourne, holidays in Ireland and Cornwall, other less dangerous sporting experiences and great parties since. When someone you shared your childhood with dies there is no greater realisation that the childhood you enjoyed has gone. I am thrilled to have spent so much of it with Pasco. You will be greatly missed.
Pasco was one of the only people that I had known since the beginning of Dunannie. I can’t remember much from back then, so I suppose one of my earliest memories of him was at his 8th birthday party which all the boys in our class and me (I was always an honoury boy) had been invited to at his house in Selbourne. I think we spent the afternoon diving into the pool and taking turns to shoot balloons with an air rifle. Pasco was a good shot even then.
It was not long after this time that I began to really like Pasco, and sent him a card on Valentine’s Day. I had stupidly forgotten to disguise my handwriting, as this was possibly my first declaration of love to anyone, and was found out. Pasco had played detective and checked every girls writing in our class. I cowardly explained that one of my friends had asked me to write it on her behalf. I think he believed me.
This obsession carried on for at least another year until I finally summoned up the courage to ‘ask him out’ and we shared our first kiss. Although we never really went anywhere besides the playground I remember an occasion where my Dad picked both of us up from school and took us down to Hamble, where our yacht was moored. We sailed into the Solent and Pasco admitted he was very scared! He was a lot better standing near to the water and casting his fishing rod!
Around this time my Godfather Peter and Pasco’s mother, Harriet had become an item. I was delighted because it would mean I could see Pasco outside of school even more. They moved to the next village along from mine and I remember in the summer I would sometimes cycle over and play hours of Goldeneye on the N64 or Pasco would shoot me or some other unlucky person in the arse with his BBgun.
When he dumped me I really thought it was the end of the world and sang along to Stranded (“I don’t want to feel like I’m stranded, oh baby I don’t wanna be here alone…”) on my CD player for at least a week. About a month later I think we were back together anyway.
On my twelfth birthday I invited Pasco, Jack Closs and my friend Suzi over for ice skating and a sleepover. Pasco had smuggled some Sambuca in his bag and I tasted my first spirit. I thought it was disgusting but drank it anyway. We would get up to similar antics whilst holidaying in Polzeath and other family gatherings.
My favourite recent memory of Pasco is Christmas Day 2008. He looked really well and it was great to catch up and have a laugh over one of Harriet’s excellent suppers. After eating we passed around a guitar and everyone enjoyed quietly listening to Pasco play songs of Bob Dylan and Neil Young so brilliantly. In the last few days I have enjoyed listening to these songs and thinking of him.
I have many a fond memory of roaming around Selborne with Pasco, one of the fondest is of Pasco, Caspian and I walking down Gracious Street and agreeing with each other that we were ‘best friends’. I think Pasco was one of those lucky people whom everybody felt like they were best buddies with at one point!
I remember being amazed with the quick-sand Pasco had discovered by the river, we used to dare each other to stand in it for as long as possible! I remember being most impressed with Pasco’s sure sighted shot (air rifle, 2.2; 1.77 was for pussies!), I’ll spare you the details but we came home happy hunters many a time! We would reward our efforts by making a fire under the tree and if we had not eaten them all on the way back from the village shop, we would heat up a marshmallow or few!
Of the antics that went on in the back garden I remember being so grateful to Pasco for not being a wimp and extinguishing Freya’s shorts! We had very naughtily decided it would be funny to see if the (very likely to catch fire) tassels hanging from her shorts would take light!! hehe ‘What very silly boys’ I can hear our mothers saying!
Well, there are just a few from the early days, I will share more in due course.
XXX
I feel I should get this rolling. It’s not easy for anyone having a friend or family member die, but I want to concentrate on the happy memories and joy Pasco brought to the people he met.
We all knew Pasco for different lengths of time – I had him as brother for 22 years and I’m happy for that, but you did not have to know him long for him to leave a lasting impression.
Whatever your impressions or memories were, this site has been set up so we can all share them, have a laugh, and look back fondly. Don’t be reticent to say anything at all, it is all appreciated.