Note and Pictures from Stuart Wilson

Reading all the tributes to John, I have been pleased to see that he was obviously as inspirational a teacher as he was a friend. As I have said elsewhere, I spent some great times over the years with John since we first met in England in 1986: he was a relaxed, droll, funny guy, full of good advice and great company.

We worked together in Sweden and then met up again later in Scotland and Italy and it was always an immense pleasure to see him. We laughed a lot, that's what I mainly remember, as well as his love of music. I was a bit younger than him and far less mature, and he was sometimes forced to take me
aside to point out that something I had done or said (usually after drinking too much) was neither clever nor cool. I always took his comments to heart.

There’s one particular moment that stands out for me: we went out for a hike one day up near Loch Ness, and were heading back down a hillside towards the monastery where I was working. John
was striding briskly ahead of me while I came down carefully. At the bottom of the hill there was a large patch of grassy field, which John sauntered casually across. I came off the hillside with a slight jump on to the grass, and sank to my knees in dense peaty mud. John heard my shout, turned round and regarded me thoughtfully.

“How on earth…?” I started to say. And then we both burst out laughing.

It was, I told him later in the pub, as if his natural grace had carried him over, while lesser men blundered. Don’t be silly, he said, or something similar. But I still believe it to be true.