Philip Bosworth
A peal was rung on 1 January 2010 to celebrate the life of Philip Bosworth (universally known as Bos), in the tower where 25 years previously he had re-founded a local band.
Bos died suddenly at home about a year ago. He had enjoyed the morning with his wife Sue, which included service ringing at Blandford Forum, followed by coffee with the band, where he was on fine form, sharing plans for his retirement just a few months away. There was no clue to the event that followed later that day – a fatal heart attack in his kitchen.
Bos grew up in Market Harborough where he learnt to ring as a teenager with his father, whom he quickly overtook, ringing his first peal at the age of 15. After a gap year in Norfolk where he made lifelong friends, he read his first degree – chemistry – at Imperial College in London, with a year as Master of the UL society along the way (1969-70), his leadership and encouragement remembered by many who still ring today. He then went to Bristol to study medicine in 1971, meeting Sue through UBSCR. They were married in 1976, and in 1980 moved to Truro where they spent four happy years, during which their first two children, Charlie and Alice, were born. Bos qualified as a Fellow of the Royal College of Surgeons in Truro, but soon realised this career path was not for him; the prospect of a General Practice partnership in Blandford took him and Sue to Dorset, coincidentally to within a few miles of Sue’s birthplace. In 1987, soon after the birth of their third child, Will, they moved another couple of miles from Pimperne to Stourpaine, where they were to spend the rest of his life.
Bos rang 102 peals; his first was in 1964 at Marston Trussell, and his last was on his 60th birthday – 5060 of the ‘Standard 8’ and Bastow spliced Major. His most active peal-ringing period was when he was in London, during which time he was elected to the College Youths. Although not a prolific peal ringer, he nonetheless valued ringing peals both to mark special occasions and as a personal challenge. But he placed a higher priority on commitment to local ringing and his local band. Soon after moving to Dorset he was responsible for rekindling a band at Blandford. It was here that he became a catalyst for local ringing, teaching many new ringers of all ages, resurrecting the Dorset Ringing Festival, and being active in local Guild events, serving several years as Branch Chairman. As well as this, he and Sue were the social lynch-pin of the nearby ringing community, keeping local ringers friendly and enthusiastic with barbecues, pancake parties and the traditional New Year’s Eve party.
In 1990 he accepted the job of School Doctor at Bryanston School. Bryanston was to become a major part of his life. All three children attended as pupils, and Bos enjoyed the fellowship of the school family – as a well-liked school doctor and a regular supporter of the school’s music scene, and in the chance to meet and interact with other members of staff who shared his intellect and love of knowledge. He worked with MOSA (the Medical Officers of Schools Association), joining its Council as Treasurer, contributing several articles to its journals, and at his time of death, about to start a year as its President.
Among Bos’s many talents was his ability to find the right words for every occasion. He could be an excellent conversationalist, taking in his stride topics both serious and frivolous. These might range from the latest initiative in the National Health Service (not always with a positive perspective) to the environmental effects of owning a battery-powered clothes brush, or the effects of plastic surgery on certain parts of the female anatomy. He could provide that sudden one-liner that would have everyone in stitches, and his powers of recall would have him reciting poetry or quotations flawlessly. This skill with words tied in with a love of crosswords and the rules of language; ironically, he would have been able to write this tribute with much more eloquence and ease than we have! His sense of humour was accompanied by a poor sense of taste; the centrepiece in the Bosworth household at Christmas was ‘Santa’s Marching Band’, a contraption of bells on which carols were played by teddy bears in bandsmen costumes. Sue saw this in a shop when they were out Christmas shopping, and knowing Bos pretty well, thought ‘I really hope Bos doesn’t see that.’ Five minutes later he came out of the shop with a big smile: ‘You must see what I’ve just bought!’
Bos’ sudden disappearance has left a hole in his family and in the local community. Many will remember him as a well-respected and sensitive doctor; those of us in the ringing community will remember him for his flamboyant bow-ties, his jokes, but above all for his genuine friendliness.
William Bosworth
