Having taken and attended many funerals, it struck me increasingly that the person who was being spoken about with expressions of love and praise for their qualities and achievements was not there to hear what was being said. And so it was that on Saturday 27 October 2018, a service of thanksgiving to God for His gifts of love and friendship took place to celebrate Anthony’s 80th birthday. The service and barn dance in the village hall afterwards were a complete surprise to Anthony. He had no idea what was afoot until he entered a packed church to huge applause. His humility and joy were abundant. 2018 was a special year for us – we celebrated our 25th wedding anniversary, Hannah graduated, Alice turned 21 and Sophie, 18.
I realise now how inadequate were the words I spoke about Anthony at that service in 2018. Inadequate because I have learnt through the numerous letters and cards and stories we have received, so much more about Anthony and just how very much loved and hugely respected, esteemed and admired he was: an extraordinary, yet ordinary and humble man. What runs through what has been said about Anthony without exception, is his superb intellect, wit, and sense of humour, his elegance and charm, what a gentleman he was, how, though quiet and unassuming, he had a very evident presence, and how his infectious laughter spread warmth wherever he went. Most precious of all for me, has been to read and hear from so many about the depth of his love and admiration for me and for his children.
I met Anthony over 37 years ago when he interviewed me for a pupillage in the Plymouth annex of 2 Kings Bench Chambers. I was becoming a little cross as I waited in the reception area for him to arrive. He was late and I had other interviews in Exeter and then in Bristol that day. As I waited, I began to wonder what sort of chambers these were. I had carried out my research, but so far what I was seeing didn’t match my research. The senior member of chambers was late, another member sauntered in, casually dressed, and then, eventually, this fit man came rushing up the stairs, arms overflowing with briefs tied with the traditional pink ribbon. Smart, bursting with energy and smiling. That man was Anthony. I could not have had a better pupil master, teacher, guide and mentor. Anthony’s advocacy was sublime. Silver tongued. His cross examination was penetrating and lethal. When we married, I made him promise not to cross examine me!
He was absolutely dedicated to his work but was not good at turning it down. He made our wedding rehearsal with literally minutes to spare, with the jury returning its verdict in Winchester just in time to enable him to race (dare I say speed) down the A303. I don’t know what he or I would have done if the jury had taken any longer.
I knew Anthony would protect me through thick and thin when I recollect how, as a young barrister just starting out on my career, I was bullied in court by an older, more experienced advocate who took advantage of my lack of experience. I returned to chambers with my bottom lip wobbling, bruised by my experience. Anthony was my pupil master at the time. He spotted immediately that something was amiss and eventually extricated from me what had happened. He quietly left the room and telephoned the solicitor concerned. I learnt later that Anthony had given him an absolute rocket. I would not have wanted to have been on the receiving end of that call. That solicitor subsequently instructed me in many cases as a result and became a friend to us both over the years. The protective nature of Anthony for me remained throughout our life together. He was our rock. When we became upset, he stayed calm. When we were worried, he said it would be ok. When we were not sure what to do, he figured it out.
Now, there are some things about Anthony that none of you have spoken about and you may not know:
Anthony was not at all practical – he and machinery did not get on at all well. We could have bought numerous strimmers and lawn mowers over and over with what we had to spend on repairs over the years. And there were times when his patience wore a little thin and his language could be rather choice – hearing Anthony shout ‘bloody dogs’ from the garden told us that they had run off again, hearing ‘bloody machinery’ told us that he had run over a stone or put the wrong fuel in the mower, again, or it had broken down, again. But he loved nothing more than sitting on his mower – and we loved seeing him enjoying himself.
Anthony was very stubborn – I have not met anyone more so. We did not succeed in persuading him not to carry logs in his lovely jumpers. We tried log baskets, log baskets on wheels, a log trolley, a log bag. In the end we had no option but to resort to giving Anthony a staple Christmas present – M&S washable and tumble dryable jumpers – which lasted three months or so before holes in the sleeves from the logs appeared and they ended up in the ever-growing gardening clothes basket, which he had no difficulty in wearing out and about at times.
None of us succeeded either in getting Anthony to wear much-needed hearing aids. When Anthony and I were in our beloved Scotland last month, we took photo frames with us to polish as the weather forecast was not good and we anticipated needing to hunker down, but we were low on the silver polish. When Anthony popped into the village for his paper, I asked him to bring back some silver polish. Anthony thought I had asked him to get some porridge!
Anthony’s memory and knowledge of military history was quite, quite extraordinary, as was his knowledge of the monarchy, not only going back decades, but centuries, and his knowledge of British nobility, rank, titles and peerages. Our bookshelves are overflowing with books, most given to him over the years by his sons, Simon and Tim, on the monarchy, World War 1, World War 2, D-Day, and military battles over the centuries. When we watched war films, which he loved, and I asked if the film was an accurate reflection of what actually happened, Anthony could go into great detail about what actually happened, when and by whom, naming the key officers and players. Anthony was an avid reader – books and newspapers abounded in our home (and his car) – and my attempts to thin down were met with failure. I gave up after the occasion when I succeeded in gathering a pile of books ready to take to the book stall, only to discover a little while later that, somehow, they had found their way back on the shelves.
In a world that often seems fast-paced and chaotic, Anthony had a way of reminding us of the importance of slowing down and savouring life’s treasures.
Following his retirement from the Bar, he was able to spend time with his Labradors, which he adored and walked daily on Dartmoor. He learnt Bridge and played regularly, enjoying hosting the Bridge Group in our home. He started a canasta group, also hosting at home. He enjoyed Chairing the Sheep Dog Trials Committee. He was Treasurer here at St Andrews. He enjoyed quizzes – everyone wanted Anthony on their team – the only problem was that he came with a handicap on that front – me – until I and another wife said we would no longer participate but would be in the supporters’ team! I am sure that Anthony was relieved about that as much as the other team members.
Anthony enjoyed writing letters to the Times and was rightly proud when they were published, which was quite often. One such letter concerned secret codes between couples. But once our secret code was published, the secret was out and I could use it no longer – but another code between us remained secret and it is one I will miss. On leaving court, I would send Anthony a WhatsApp, ‘home in an hour, just about to leave Bristol, Exeter, Plymouth, sat nav says.’ He would reply, ‘kettle will be on’ or ‘coffee will be waiting for you.’ Coffee was code for a gin and tonic.
Anthony ticked a number of boxes this year. 30th wedding anniversary, first family holiday in 10 years with all three girls enjoyed in his favourite part of Provence, returning to our bolt hole in Scotland, being shown around Hannah’s new offices in London, and enjoying two full days at the Imperial War Museum. We attended the wedding of his grandson Peter to Catherine the weekend before he died, when all six of his children were together. On the morning before we set off for the wedding, Anthony brought me up coffee (real coffee) and toast holding the Times newspaper. Seated on the bed, he said, ‘I want to read this to you. It was part of an article written by the son of the former Chancellor, the late Lord Lawson in which his son described how Lord Lawson had enjoyed his favourite meal, with three glasses of claret and within 30 minutes, had died. “That is how I want to go”’ said Anthony. And a week later he did. On the day before he died, we enjoyed one of his favourite meals – white crab meat and a delicious bottle of wine. He didn’t wake up the next morning. Great for Anthony. The most dreadful shock for us.
Anthony had a strong but quiet Christian faith. He knew that death is not final. He trusted in God’s mercy and kindness and the truth of God’s promises made to the world through Jesus Christ.
We mourn his loss, but Anthony would draw on the words of the poem He is Gone by Hugo Shepherd, and say this to us:
We will shed tears because he has gone, but we must also smile because he has lived and our eyes will see all that he has left
Our hearts may feel empty because we cannot see him, but our hearts will also feel full of the love that we shared
We cannot live in the yesterday – we will, in time, be happy for tomorrow because of yesterday
We will remember him not because he is gone, but because we can cherish his memory and let it live on.
Eulogy delivered by Master Anthony Donne’s wife, HHJ Miranda Robertshaw, at his service in November 2023.
