In memoriam: Ian McGill

Some memories of a dear friend.

As you are undoubtedly aware Ian died in hospital last week after quite a lengthy battle with cancer and latterly leukaemia. Throughout his battle he managed to retain his sense of humour and which we shared. From time to time we would see the “funny side” of things that were quite ridiculous., I recall on one occasion we were on a sailing holiday with our wives and for no apparent reason we decided to spend the evening at anchor trying to sing “The Kookaburra Song” and not just sing it but as a four-part round! There were drawbacks - none of us could sing in tune, none of us could remember the words and none of us could actually start at the correct time.

Fuelled by the occasional bottle of red wine and the video recorder running the background we descended into uncontrollable laughter which seemed to go on for hours. We never did understand why!

Even in his last few days, his sense of humour stayed with him. I took him a couple of cans of cider (his favourite tipple) to his hospital bed. getting permission to give the cans of cider to him seemed appropriate. The receptionist referred me to the Ward Sister who said it should be okay but she needed to refer it to the Doctor. I asked her to let me know when permission had been granted so I could give the cans to Ian. Towards the end of my visit permission had not yet been received so I told Ian what was in the plastic bag but that he was not to touch it until the doctor had said OK. We were then trying to work out how to get coverage of the Grand Prix on an iPad, when I heard behind me the unmistakable sound of a ring pull opening followed by glug, glug, glug. Ian’s face was a picture! We laughed together for quite a while! I have just realised he never offered me the second can, so I guess he laughed even more after I left!

Those of you who have been around the Mousehole more than three or four years will recall Ian as the self appointed Gator driver, with his most precious codriver, his lovely  dog Scruffy who was often seeing riding shotgun and even wearing a seatbelt! There is a photograph of them around somewhere but sadly we have not been able to find it, Ian did, however, have his serious side. He was very at home afloat presumably due to his many years as a Merchant Seaman on board research vessels. He was the skipper of many maintenance trips to Saint Clements Isle for the Lights, all of course with safe returns 

One year we sailed the PASAB Race together and we took a landlubber friend of mine from upcountry. On board Ian quickly identified which bunk he wanted and, as was his practice, identified it by organising it, sea boots were off and stood outside the cabin. Sleeping bag laid out, smoothed over, unzipped for the statutory one meter and turned back appropriately, pillow plumped smooth. His wash bag decanted of essentials which were laid alongside the sleeping bag - all good. We got to the first change of watch and I sent my Midlands mate down for a three hour kip. He wasn’t feeling too well, as it happens. About three hours or so later it came to Ian‘s turn to sleep. He went down below only to find two welly boots obviously with legs attached sticking out of the bottom of his crumpled sleeping bag, his wash bag strewn around the cabin and  noisy snoring emanating from his berth. To say there was an atmosphere aboard would be a massive understatement. Mutiny was definitely possible! Thank goodness Ians good nature to Shine through and normal service and relationships resumed after not too long. We shared many a laugh about that day, once Ian had calmed down

Ian, if you’re listening, rest easy, sure in the knowledge that you will never be forgotten but sorely missed.

Words by Peter Taylor.