Phil was a great character in the Charlton Park mould. The club was not the most important thing in his life but when he was there he gave everything to it. He played seriously and then enjoyed the sociability that the game provided, particularly in the sixties and seventies when grassroots rugby was in its heyday. You felt he cared - for you and the club - and his advice was often sought by those of us wondering whether we were on the right track, but there was always a joke to tell, a song to sing and a plan for a bit of nonsense and we all loved it. Many memories are coming in of him introducing himself to a new player, doing someone a good deed or leading them astray.

He joined in 1965 with a group of fellow mates from Samuel Pepys School, so his 58 years of association with Charlton Park (minus two years at Dartfordians in the early ‘70s) make him one of our most longstanding members, and in that time he left an influence on the club.

He was a successful graphic designer at The Financial Times which made him a clever and innovative photographer. He was the club’s unofficial picture historian and chronicler, and his mad mock-ups (remember ‘Bazman’, ‘Save the Whelk’ or the dwile flonk) turned programmes, leaflets and menus into works of comic art.

He played centre (I can never remember him playing anywhere else) a position of which he had developed an expertise which he passed on to his co-centres, as Paul Sharp remembers with affection. He had a power to exploit a defender out of position or just a bit unwilling to put his body on the line, and everyone remembers his extravagant dummy which rarely fooled anyone. His kicking is best not dwelled upon.

Phil turned rugby Saturdays into extended fun. He enjoyed a drink; rumour has it that at one time he could down a pint in three seconds, and he was generous. He was a leader in the singing and had an encyclopaedic knowledge of every rugby song, he was a great raconteur, full of the old stories of club goings-on, and it was a treat in recent times to share a table with him at a pre-match lunch.

When undergoing a regular mandatory work health-check over twenty years ago it was discovered Phil had a form of leukaemia with which he has had to deal ever since. His brave stoicism throughout that time through many highs and lows was highlighted by a TV film which focussed on a particularly new treatment where he was one of the recipients. He still continued to support the club whenever he could.

It was on tour, when the rules of normal life didn’t apply, when Phil came into his own. He enjoyed initiating a good practical joke – everyone had to eat the raw garlic he provided before the tour to France in order to be more French, he let it be known that Andy Allen had passed a breath test because he had been taking throat lozenges and as for the tour photos of Tony Penfold that he slipped into his wedding portfolio…

With Phil goes another reminder of the halcyon days of club rugby and Charlton Park. He remembered it, he told stories about it, and his anarchic sense of fun and humour was always at the forefront. We wanted Phil around and the place was at its best when he was leading the mayhem in his gentlemanly way. I can remember it so clearly.

All his life he wanted to be a barrer boy…

We loved him.

Rest in peace, Phil.