Print

Paul Haskey (1942-2018)

This eulogy for Paul Haskey was delivered at his funeral on 19 March by his son Simon.

My father was born on 14th April 1942 in Keighley, West Yorkshire. At the time of his birth his father – my grandfather – was away in the Royal Navy fighting the War in the Far East. So Dad was two and a half years old when he met his father for the first time, coming home at Keighley railway station.

Dad spent his first few years with his mother and grandmother, and Aunty Irene and Uncle Jim, all in the same house. He was taught to read and write by the ladies and his lifelong love of sport came from Uncle Jimmy who taught him football and cricket. After his father left the navy in 1946, the family were given the keys to the first purpose-built prefab in Ingrow. Two years later, in 1948, his sister Lesley was born.

Dad went to the local Ingrow primary school and showed early academic promise. He duly passed the 11+ exam to win a place at Keighley Boys grammar school. Academically he went from strength to strength and was one of the top achievers at the school.  He was also captain of the rugby first XV. The local newspaper even printed a caricature of him when his team were joint winners of the Ingrow Sevens Tournament; 42 teams from across Yorkshire and Lancashire competed. 

When it came to sixth form choices he wanted to pursue languages, as this was his best subject, but the school was keen for him to continue studying the sciences. He continued to excel in science and then spent an additional year preparing for S-level exams in the hope of securing a place at one of the Oxbridge colleges.

He was successful and was awarded a place at Gonville and Caius College Cambridge, going up in the autumn of 1961 to read for an Honours Degree in Natural Sciences.

I am told that he was a conscientious, hardworking undergraduate who was an example to those with whom he shared rooms in the college. While he undertook many hours of solitary study, he relaxed by playing bridge and the guitar, and rugby for his college.  At weekends Dad spent many an hour in the college buttery. When he exclaimed to his friends he felt like a King, they promptly gave him the nickname ‘the King’, which stuck with him throughout his college years.   Over the years Dad supported his college and regularly attended reunions at Caius.

Dad graduated from Cambridge in 1964 and decided to pursue a career in the oil industry, specifically oil exploration. He moved south and joined Seismograph in Keston as a graduate trainee.  He spent the first few years in the field abroad in Africa, including Nigeria, Mozambique (where he learned to speak Portuguese), Angola and South Africa.

Paul on his first overseas assignment, Nigeria in the 1960s

One crew used helicopters to travel from camp to the line. Dad said that the early morning flights after a festive evening were not the most enjoyable, particularly as the pilot wasn’t particularly careful about the sensitivities of his passengers. On one trip Dad had to lean out of the airborne helicopter ‘super hero style’ and use a machete to chop off a rope carrying the boat below when it became entangled with the back helicopter blade.

While living there he had several close encounters with the local wildlife, including a crocodile (which luckily ran the other way), and a black mamba falling on him from a tree. He adopted a baby owl and later a monkey that he had found abandoned in the bush. In 1967/68 he took a year out to complete an Msc at UMIST in electrical engineering

My parents met when Dad was living near Downe as mum was also working at Seismograph; this was the start of a successful and supportive long-term partnership.

Mum and Dad got married in 1970 and I was born two years later while Dad was working for his last extensive period abroad, in Oman. On returning to England in early 1973, my parents  first bought a house in Biggin Hill, then bought a cottage in Keston Avenue two years later. My twin brothers Edward and Alex followed soon after that.

My father continued to pursue his career in the oil industry and from 1973 worked for several iterations of a new start-up company.  Based in Victoria, then in Bromley, it  eventually become Horizon, locating to Swanley in 1975. Ultimately he became director of research, but finished his career with Scott Pickford in Croydon.  He was recognised internationally as an expert in seismic processing, particularly in the fields of imaging and inversion.

Dad always had an active leisure and social life outside of work. When we were young I remember a significant amount of time travelling around during the holidays with windsurfers on the car roof. On one notable occasion we managed to lose a sail on the notorious M25 and had the police help us retrieve it before it unravelled across the whole motorway.

In more recent years he was an active member of the Ravensbourne Morris, a keen walker and sang with the Croydon Male Voice Choir.  He also enjoyed spending time with his grandchildren.

Paul with fellow choir-members at  Greenwich in 2017

One such walking group formed with his friends, known as the Radox Ramblers, christened Dad ‘the Weatherman’ due to his uncanny ability to ensure that the rain stayed away. Water, ironically, featured in one dramatic instance when John Jackson (a fellow Yorkshireman) fell into a canal in Exeter when stepping from a canoe on to the quay. The group rushed forward to offer John assistance and ask how he was. Dad’s contribution was different.  "Is your wallet OK, John?" he asked. To which John replied: "Yes, thank you, there speaks a true Yorkshireman!"

Other friends remember the occasion at the annual Haskey Christmas party, when, to everyone’s astonishment, he produced a huge piano accordion, lent back, and with his fingers flashing across the buttons and keys, played a gypsy piece perfectly and with great gusto.

I have also had it confirmed that Dad never spoke ill of anyone and was very generous.  His breadth of knowledge was amazing and he spoke with authority on subjects from Plato to the planets.

His final few years were spent combining an active life with a barrage of chemotherapy and blood transfusions which he bore with incredible fortitude.  He will be sorely missed by his family, many groups of friends and colleagues as we can see here amongst us today.

I personally will miss his level-headed counsel and a drink or two at the Greyhound on a summer’s evening.