I don't have a recollection of first meeting Paul; we were seated alphabetically in our first classroom at Clapham and D's and Z's were on opposites side of the room. However we were acquainted soon enough either through playground football after school, or when we started playing in the Under 12's school team. Paul was engaging and interesting and you wanted to get to know him. I recall seeing his coin purse early on: I was not aware that men (or boys) could have purses: this was 1961 after all. But I saw the sense in it when I saw him use it to inspect what change he had and quickly pay for crisps or twiglets. I doubt that he was worried with the line of his clothing being impaired by coins causing bulging pockets; it just worked. Later on I met him at Clapham Junction Station, on our way to a school football match. It was a cold Saturday morning, as we readily agreed; he then brought out of his overcoat pocket his hand clutching what looked like a large pocket watch. It turned out to be a hand-warmer: a metal case enclosing I think hot charcoal. Like his coin purse it worked. Those are just two trivial recollections: he always had something different about him.

Paul was willing to engage in any madcap activity you might suggest, such as on a couple of occasions going fishing on a Saturday night for tench in the Leg of Mutton Pond in Bushey Park, after a couple of hours in the Temple Bar pub in Walworth Road, or playing for a motley crew known as Solomon Casuals on a Sunday morning over on Hackney Marshes. That side also had a 5-a-side team playing in a league at Crystal Palace so Paul would take the full length on the route 63 bus to get there, with me usually meeting him when I hopped on at The Kings Arms Peckham. It seemed like he'd go to most places and to a lot of trouble for a game of football. The 5-a-side was on a Monday evening and we'd get the 63 back from Crystal Palace, adjourn to The King's Arms Peckham for libation and post-match analysis; we locals would up and leave at 9:25pm to watch "Mickey Dunne" on telly leaving Paul to the next 63 to take him away from South-East London over Blackfriars Bridge to North London and civilisation, where they have tube trains. While in The King's Arms one time we had a touch of Paul's wit: we were talking of having X-rays for some reason, and he volunteers that there's a kid in our class who is so skinny you'd just have to hold him up to the light. (Apologies to POB if he is reading this.)

I liked his style on the pitch. He played right-back and was definitely more of a Bobby Moore (of West Ham) than a Ron Harris (of his beloved Chelsea). Paul was a studious rather than vigorous tackler but would usually come away with the ball and distribute well, adjust his shorts and await his next encounter with the oppostiion. I don't recall him crossing the half-way line too often except at half-time but he'd possibly contest that assertion.

I remember meeting him one Saturday morning on the way to Norbury for a 1st XI game. I boarded the 159 bus at Brixton and found Paul upstairs in the prized back seat looking forlornly at a scrap of paper which turned out to be a planned bet. He had written out a win treble, I think for a shilling stake, for late afternoon races the day before, and the three nags came in. However he had not gotten to the bookies in time to place the bet which would have realised £20. This would have been 1967 I think when £20 was a good week's wages, and for his shilling stake represented composite odds of 400-1. We both agreed that he had been powerfully unshrewd. Maybe we won the football match despite a vacant-minded right back.

Paul liked his cricket too, and opened the batting for the school team, and later for the Old Boys XI before he left for Australia. Stan Miller , our Captain and best bat, liked his stalwart defence and ability to wear down the opening attack, and not give away his wicket recklessly. On meeting him on one of his returns in the early 80's he asked me how the Old Boys cricket was going. "Pretty good"., I said: "We have a good team. I scored a ton by the way". "Good God: how long did that take?" was his immediate and mildly mocking reply. I had to remind him that his run-rate at the crease was hardly better than mine, which he accepted rather than continuing to argue the matter. That was Paul: occasionally pointed for amusement's sake but overall fair-minded.

He did like a day at the races of course. I remember a miserably wet and cold winter's afternoon at Fontwell Park circa 1982 which he insisted was a must-do. Perhaps it was a kind of holiday from near-tropical Queensland; I just remember us drinking shorts all afternoon to keep warm and losing all our cash, with form out the window on a muddy course.

This is all somewhat trivial, except that it gives a snapshot of Paul from schooldays and before leaving for Australia, and when he returned and saw his schoolmates. There was much more to Paul of course than these incidents, and others I hope will be elaborating suitably. He taught English for quite a while in Australia so he clearly exercised his serious side: well I assume so but I can imagine his lessons having much humour and interest. He was engaging to be with, and a good friend to many.

I last saw him in 2004, at a long and boozy evening at Kevin and Julie Cassandro's place. Somehow I contrived to be away on his subsequent visits to the UK, which has been my loss.

My sympathies are offered to his family in UK and Australia. He was such a lovely person.

MICK DUFFY - CLASSMATE: 1 Alpha 1961