SOME REFLECTIONS ON HOV, who died 8th September 2001, aged 87 years.

After I had been at the High School for a few days in September 1947, the headmaster suggested that I should observe some lessons given by colleagues. In particular he recommended Les Brown and a chap whom he simply described as Hov. I duly did so.

Les taught French by the direct method, scarcely a word of English being spoken. It was intense, flamboyant, highly demanding teaching. A first class performance. Then I watched Hov at work. Relaxed, perceptive, humorous and totally engaging; here was a man with flair; here was a presence that controlled and animated the class in an effortless way. At the end, he said, "I don't think you will have picked much up from that Hinch, but that's the way I do it."

I learned a great deal from all my colleagues at Scarborough, but Hov, possibly without knowing it, was the most influential of mentors. Remarkably, when we met for the last time in Mansfield in the summer of 2001, he was in a real sense the same lively personality I had encountered way back in 1947.

We were good friends then and we have remained so for more than half a century. We were in the same Scarborough dramatic society, treading the boards at the Arcadia; we played cricket at Gristhorpe (once on my taking a catch in the deep he commented, "Not bad Hinch, considering you had your eyes closed!"). He was, of course, an excellent cricketer himself. Having rubbed shoulders with Hedley Verity and Norman Yardley during his war time service with the Green Howards, he had played with the best. One could add, 'and fought with the best,' for he had distinguished active service in Italy and elsewhere during the war.

Those of you who were members of school rugby teams in his time will recall him as a shrewd, if unorthodox, coach and a superb motivator. I always used to read his reports on rugby matches posted on the noticeboard each Monday morning. They were, as you would expect, well-written, never triumphalist, always commending the team effort, always generous to some usually inconspicuous player who had made a vital contribution. Hov was a star - confident, at ease, gregarious, with a good line in playful banter; he made his mark in many areas of Scarborough life, not least amongst the old Scarborians.

In the fifties, we went our separate ways. He, after a spell at Easingwold, became head of Ramsey Grammar School; I went to the University of Nottingham. We met again when he became head of the Manor School in Mansfield Woodhouse. It was a new school and he soon had it running with that relaxed efficiency which was his forte. Within a short time, it was a school in great demand, first choice for many Mansfield parents. He was the ideal head. He had such composure; the greatest crisis left him unruffled. He had an eye for academic talent and he recruited some able people to his staff, including several former Scarborians - Ron Hutchinson, Graham Thornton and Bill Redman. Whenever I visited his school, I would find him puffing at his pipe, completely in control, and popular for the right reasons with both colleagues and pupils, all of whom knew him as Hov.

Wherever he went, Hov evoked admiration and affection. Those who met him remembered him with a smile. He was the same old Hov to the end. Those of us who gathered at that Mansfield hotel in the summer commented on how well he looked. As ever, he sparkled, clearly enjoying his reunion with old friends.

Scarborians have lost a great champion and I have lost a dear friend. He will be remembered by many with great affection and, inevitably, with a smile.