However, certain things were not up for debate. Malcolm was a larger than life character who took no prisoners. You always knew where you were with Malcolm. No airs and graces, he would say and do things straight, directly and honestly. His opinions were respected by most people.

Those who knew him, knew him to be a man of wisdom, gained at the University of Life, with more common sense than most. I’ve always thought that if I was ever to be stranded on a desert island, Malcolm must be Man Friday. He could always be relied on to come up with a solution to any problem. He was a gentleman of great resolve and integrity.

When Malcolm and Jenny came back to the UK they lived in New Addington, but eventually settled in Ryarsh, which is where Maria and I met them when we also moved there in ‘76. On leaving the Army, Malc had joined the London Fire Service where he remained in post until his retirement in 2000. He had played a part in many major incidents in the capital, not least at the Kings Cross tube disaster in 1987. He was seen, on the television news broadcast that evening, coming out of the heat and smoke filled station which claimed so many lives.

Vigo RFC used to play their home games at Leybourne Grange in the mid ‘70s. One Saturday afternoon, in 1976, I found myself on the touchline as an injured spectator. There was this large chap playing in the centre, a position in those days that I normally played. For those of you that don’t know, there are two centres in a rugby team. Luckily for me it meant at least there was still room for me as the other one. Malcolm was a far more effective centre than I ever was! Apparently Malc had become fed up with playing local soccer because, he told me, there were just ‘too many fairies in football’. Football’s loss was rugby’s gain me thinks. Standing there watching that afternoon, it suddenly dawned on me that this was the chap that I had met in Ryarsh the other day… and that for me was the start of our great friendship that lasted almost 40 years.

Malcolm could normally manage his fire brigade duties to ensure he could play rugby most Saturdays in the winter months and cricket, his other sporting love, in the summer. Malcolm was a big man in every sense of the word, but he was deceptively quick and nimble not to mention being as strong as an ox. Trevor Newnham, on the Vigo website, used the words ‘a ferocious centre’. A perfect description.

It was always a delight to see a skippy young opposition centre line up opposite and eye Malcolm before kick off, probably thinking, ‘I’ll run rings round that big bloke’. I saw many an opponent make the fatal mistake of underestimating Malcolm’s agility. On catching his prey he could tackle, strip the ball and occasionally strip the shorts from an unsuspecting youngster, all in one movement. The look of surprise on the youth’s face was a picture. ‘What did I do wrong there then?’ you could hear him think as he pulled his shorts up, with the ball and Bald Eagle long gone!

He wasn’t easy to stop when on the move either. His hand-offs were a sight to behold and as many a game progressed it was not unusual to hear a cry from the opposition, ‘can someone please try and stop that bald headed bastard’!

Vigo Vet’s inaugural tour to a frozen Bristol in 1985 prompted some witty comments from Tom Davies that made the back page of the Bristol Evening Post, a copy of which hangs in the clubhouse. Tom’s wit was directed at all tour members, no one escaped. He reckoned that Malc had shaved his head especially for the tour and listed him as ‘The Biggest Centre in Captivity’ whose hobbies included Ice Dancing and Aerobics. We could all spend the rest of our lives trying to think of less appropriate pass times for Malcolm…and we would all fail!

Malcolm managed to make most of the Vets’ Tours and I was lucky enough to always share a room with him on all the Vets’ and other Tours. In fact, I was probably 2nd only to Jenny in the amount of time spent sharing a bedroom with Malc. He was a joy to room with, his Army background always ensuring that things were always neat and tidy! If he retired to bed before me he would always pull my leg next morning that I must have poked him to stop him snoring, gone fast asleep myself and then proceeded to keep him awake all night with my own snoring. Malcolm was too much of a gentleman to poke me back.

On later Vets’ tours two young guns, Dunn and Merchant (Steve & Nigel), announced themselves as the Dangerous Brothers and assumed the role as the tour enforcers. ‘Dangerous Brothers?’ Malcolm queried… ‘more like a pair of Dangerous Sisters if you ask me’. Stephanie and Nigella, as they later became known, always knew their place when Otis was around. Stephanie and Otis became involved in a chest jousting challenge one night at the clubhouse. They both became extremely bruised and sore, but both being in the Fire Service, probably afforded themselves a couple of ‘sickies’ the next week. Nigella and I verbally negotiated our contest.

It was probably sometime in the early ‘80s that Mick Bassett and myself joined Malcolm on a rugby weekend trip to Paris with Llanederyn RFC, a Welsh club based on the outskirts of Cardiff. Malc’s nephew, Mark, was a member and there were some spare places. Malcolm and I were invited to play in the Sunday game against the Paris Metro Works side. ‘CENTRE’ was Malcolm’s answer to our captain, in the changing room, when he asked Malc whether he preferred tight or loose head? The skipper’s concerns were soon allayed though when, after only a few minutes, the Bald Eagle crashed over under the posts with three Johnny Foreigners hanging from him… He then kicked the conversion. That was his first try of several in our win that day. The Saturday side had lost. The Kent boys, or more specifically Malcolm, had saved the tour for the Welsh!

Although Malcolm and Jenny had moved to Linton, Malcolm was still a big part of the Malling Movement and always attended Friday prayers in The Lobster Pot or The Malling Club. He was a regular and popular member of trips away to such venues as Le Mans, Nurburg for motor racing and Cardiff Arms Park (as was) for Welsh SWALEC Cup Finals. If there was a bus to be driven, Malc would drive it. If there was a barbecue to be cooked, Malc would cook it. If there was a problem needed sorting, Malc would sort it. That was Malcolm.

After retiring from playing rugby in his late 40s, Malcolm had become involved in the Anti-Doping regime that Mike Anderson had nurtured with the international rugby authorities. This involved going to top class international and European rugby venues to supervise the Anti-Doping collection procedures. Malc also managed a red carpet trip to South Africa to look after a World 7s Series event! Never did know how he’d managed to wangle that one. Malcolm enjoyed this work greatly and with his no-nonsense approach he was perfectly suited to the role. There was a lot of travelling involved and when Malcolm lost a lot of his mobility, I know it was with much sadness and reluctance that he had to call time.

Malcolm fought his long and serious illness, for a large part from a wheelchair, with great courage and determination. Always chirpy and never complaining about his lot. Today, we are attending a humanist service, but if any of you here are in touch with God, please, the next time you speak to him, ask him from me why he gave Malcolm the hand he did. Two unrelated conditions over all those years. Malcolm was a good man and he did not deserve that hand. Never once did I see his fortitude waiver during that long illness, even in these dark recent times. The birth of granddaughter Charlotte, to Louise and Bob, two and a half years ago, brought much happiness to Malcolm. He was absolutely chuffed to bits and so pleased that he was able to have time with her.

RIP Malc

Bob