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I have some sad news regarding Peter, of 17 Shawbury Road. This morning the Police attempted to gain access to his property after a friend had contacted them saying they were unable to rouse him via mobile or internet. As his next-door-neighbour I was able to provide access to his back garden and asked the Police to keep me informed which they did. Apparently, Peter had fallen whilst out walking in the street last week and had passed away. I have no further information.


Peter would be familiar to many in East Dulwich. In his late 60?s or early 70?s he was a tall, 6ft 3? well-built man whose square shoulders rounded just a little from his later career perched in front of a monitor as he preceded many of us making a career programming in C. He had swept back hair, a moderately closely clipped beard, moustache and sideburns combo in the classic ?salt and pepper? and wore fuller, by today tastes, black-rimmed glasses. When ever he left his house to go out walking he invariably had headphones on.


I met Pete when I first moved into my flat some 10years ago. He poked his head over the back-garden fence to say ?hello? whilst I was amid a ?Death to all Pyracantha? rant with my bloodied mitts and scratched face. He stood there silently looking at me before coming to the conclusion ?I take it then that you do not like this plant? in his deep and cultured voice. From then on we stopped to chat in the street whenever we met and occasionally went for a few drinks together which culminated in our spending a Boxing Day together getting ridiculously drunk.


He won his Philosophy degree back in the 1950?s and it was this period that formed his love of Jazz. I must say that I am all RnR and Punk, he totally Jazz and this formed much of our drink addled rambling conversations. Well that and literature as we were both very well read but with tastes formed by very different generations. How we stumbled upon Plato and then two philosophy lecturers in one boozy session at the Clockhouse I will never know but those two fellers endured us two asking, I am sure, the daftest questions. He was good company and I enjoyed it.


Peter once told me that he had been married but they had had no children. I sensed that when he talked of his marriage he blamed himself for its failure and still felt some sense of regret. I had no idea that he had no next-of-kin.


The Police told me that because there was no-one to be an advocate for Peter his body cannot be released by the local Coroner until some legal determination can be made. I have spoken with some of the folks in Shawbury Road and they want to be represented at his funeral, make contributions to flowers and put up cards for him outside his flat. You are welcome to do so to. I have no idea how I go about finding out the details of his burial, or his court case, so I would welcome any advice in tracking him down- maybe I will call into the Co-op Funeral service on Lordship Lane and ask for their advice.


RIP Peter, a good man, a good neighbour, and a gentleman I enjoyed spending time with.

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