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My memories of Geoffrey are of someone who listened quietly and spoke with a careful choice of words. He was driven by an underlying feeling of wonder in the world, and saw himself as a modest part of an amazing whole. He was able to appreciate the very small and the very large and had an enormous appreciation of history and human experience.
He drove an old Rolls Royce called Queenie, which was lovingly maintained by a local mechanic long after its effective life had expired, to whom he gave the car when he became too old to drive it safely himself. He wore a hat, and one time when being driven by him I remember him tipping his hat in respect as we passed a funeral cortege, a small event which had a big effect on me, a simple …