Richard was so many different things. By profession he was a solicitor. He was a sailor but he could also build houses, and fix engines, he was a countryman, traveller, and above all, his family was the most important thing to him. He was also tremendous company and could be very funny and have everyone in tears of laughter.
Many of us will have received the family’s notice with its classic photograph of Richard balancing on the pulpit rail of Nereis inspecting the rigging and draw of the sails. Certainly typical in the warm Mediterranean sun although my memory would have him in what were termed his engine room skiddies flapping in the breeze. And despite his mop of blond hair and chiselled good looks he was totally lacking in any sort of vanity. In those days and in a more British climate he was happiest in Army and Navy clothing-an old guernsey or white turning grey somewhat shapeless submariner’s roll neck sweater and a pair of old serge navy blue trousers claimed once to have been policeman’s trousers complete with truncheon pocket. He could brush up lovely as he might have said for the office or for whatever the occasion demanded but he was only ever comfortable in old gardening clothes or, as he might have put it, his old friends.
My first encounter with him was at a small dinner party given by my sister for some people she had just met at my parent’s house in Exeter. He appeared at the front door-a mop of blond curls and a big grin bouncing up and down in the centre of a group of friends. He, Richard, cheerfully invited them in and offered them drinks which he continued to do throughout the evening at the same time proudly expounding on this sailing boat he had just bought with his friend, Hadrian Sterling, and which they were re-fitting in the Exeter Ship Canal in preparation for a voyage to Norway. This was Nereis, named in Greek mythology after the son of Pontus, the sea and Gaia, the earth. The long and short of it was that eventually I found myself recruited to join the ship later in the summer.
Norway was very much to Richard’s taste with its rugged coast, deep fjords and massive mountainous scenery.
Richard was a natural sailor with an instinctive feel for his boat. He had a photographic memory-one look at the chart and he had the channel its depths, obstructions, buoys, headlands and rocks and their names plus a complete grasp of tides and currents. I do not have the time to go through the trip in detail. Suffice to say we sailed up the coast and spent time exploring the Hardangerfjord and the Sognefjord and going up to the Jostedalsbreen Glacier the largest glacier in Europe, and walking up to its edge and to look down at the small dot that was Nereis anchored well over 3,000 ft below.
This trip left a taste for more and two years later saw Nereis set sail from Falmouth to Gibraltar arriving at Easter that year some three weeks later, chased into harbour by a pod of dolphins.
Having rested up, watered and topped up with stores Nereis worked her way to Mykonos, putting in here and there, past such sights as Stromboli into the Ionian Sea to Corfu and then heading into the Gulf of Corinth and the spectacular Corinth canal to Piraeus where we picked up friends and into the Cyclades, island hopping all the way, sometimes putting into small fishing ports, other times, finding an anchorage and on one occasion finding an ancient Greek pillar on which to tie a stern rope.
At Mykonos we turned back conscious of the season when the winds would turn against us and headed in similar fashion towards Set in the Gulf de Lion, the start of the Canal du Midi which took us through France and into the Atlantic at Bordeaux where we headed home towards the end of October.
We could not have done it without Richard’s skill with the Stuart Turner engine which he carefully nursed throughout the trip. At a crucial stage, the gearbox packed up. Here, our teamwork which included various unorthodox skills came to the fore so that when entering locks in the Canal, I would jump off with a rope to check the boat and then help the lock keeper-or more usually his wife whilst he manoeuvred into the lock, pulling out the spark plug lead at the moment just to stop the engine.
The whole trip took six months and we now had to start earning money again and return to work.
Richard had left his job as a litigation solicitor in Exeter very much against the advice of several senior colleagues who thought he was jeopardising a promising career. During the trip we were at times joined by friends who included Richard Van Oppen and Paul Horsey, a family friend. They were both partners in Ashford Sparkes and Harward, his old firm and it was not long before Paul invited him to come into his office in Tiverton to do some work there. He never looked back, eventually becoming a respected partner in the firm. Others can speak with more authority concerning his professional career, but integrity was always an essential in his life and I know from the few dealings we had with him that he was always very thorough and fair, invariably supporting the underdog. I have a fond memory of a meeting Ros and I had with him regarding the purchase of our house which he went through ensuring that we had grasped every detail but in such a way he had us in tears of laughter throughout.
But this was not the end of Nereis. There were trips across the Channel to France and then one day he told me that he had met someone who had all the adventurous and intrepid qualities to join the crew. Turns out to be this tall, elegant blue-eyed blond called Posy but it was not until a few months later that we set out for Scotland. The circumstances of their romance and how they literally fell for each other, down the side of a mountain, have already been described at another occasion. I watched with Nell, Posy’s lovely black Labrador and we looked at one another and said-we know what this is all about. A few months later, Richard asked me to be his Best Man, saying that he needed to have a person who was attractive and cultured but also intrepid and strong enough to challenge him where necessary. Posy certainly did all of that. And now it is very difficult to think of Richard without Posy and vice versa. Sadly, Posy’s seasickness curtailed her enjoyment of sailing, but the following year Ricard planned a trip to the Scilly Isles and, after much thought took with us an old friend of Posy’s. Ros and I were comprehensively set up although we both resisted fiercely but eventually gave in as they knew we would and I was then able to ask Richard to be my best man.
Family life never quenched the Stockman thirst for adventure and holidays took the Stockman family to the Lake District, Scottish Highlands where he could explore remote hills and more closely to home the hills of Exmoor and Dartmoor.
And whilst Posy was the great homemaker, Richard was the builder. West Dunster was a tumble-down cob cottage when they first went there and they lived in a caravan for some 18months. Much of West Dunster and also their getaway home at the barns at Simonsbath was the work of his own hands. He could do most things and always had a project on the go, being the ponds, building the boat house, extending the house, the barns or putting a bathroom into Phoebe and Tim’s cottage.
Richard had taken a sabbatical some years before and the whole family decamped to Africa for three months and then Richard now retired from conventional work, and the children, Phoebe, Will and Bart grown up and ‘out of the way’ Posy’s attention came back to her second love-Africa. Richard fully supported her on this and it began to become a project. These are too few words to describe what they have done and he was able to bring all his building and engineering skills, all hands-on to leave a lasting legacy.
Returning home they never stood still, exploring Exmoor from the barns with Posy on her horse, Richard on foot with the dogs, beating on shoots on Exmoor where they made many friends, planning a party and caravanning to France.
