Remembering Tim Pike
Occasionally something devastating happens that stops everything in its tracks and we have to 'go quiet' until we figure out what's happened. One such thing happened recently. I'm referring to the desperately sad and untimely death of our friend Tim Pike.
Part of the Fennel's Priory 'inner-inner' circle
Tim was one of my three closest friends, a pseudo brother who had done more to help me than anyone else and whom I loved more than any other in return. He shaped the last ten years of my life in more ways than I could possibly credit. Notably, my favourite book Fine Things was his idea; it was he who proposed me for membership of The Flyfishers' Club; and it was with him that Shaun Harrison and I enjoyed our epic holiday to Quarry Bank Fishery in 2019. These are three of my proudest achievements, all thanks to Tim's friendship and the ways in which he encouraged me to do and 'be' more.
The energy behind my activities
Tim was "100% or nothing"; always giving his all to everything he did. "I'm in!" he'd say, "I'm all over it. Let the hounds see the hare!" His enthusiasm was infectious, his energy and confidence inspired new levels of passion and commitment in me, always encouraging me to overcome my fears, invest in my writing and do things that defined me. His regular messages and calls would always begin with "How are you doing?" referring both to my wellbeing and progress towards the grand plan. "Someday soon, Fennel," he'd say, "please make Fennel's Priory a real bricks and mortar, leaves and trees thing; then invite me to stay." I knew what he meant: the dream needed to be real, and it should be shared. "Make it as small as you can," he'd say, "but make it right."
If ever I worried that I was falling short of Tim's ideals, or that my output was slower than his legendarily-fast 'Pike's Progress', Tim would say, "Don't worry; I've got your back." And not wishing to let him down, I'd make sure that the ink never dried in my pen. The result was that my publications became better known in twelve months than they had in the previous 15 years. (Even now, after ten years of knowing Tim, I still have more than 100 ideas and projects dreamed up with him that will take me the rest of my life to implement. And although he'll be watching over me and cursing why it's taking me so long to achieve them, I'm reassured that whatever I create will be as much his legacy as mine.)
The best of friends
Tim contacted me via email back in 2011 after he'd stumbled upon my newly launched website. (He was the first person to contact me when it went live.) He and I began corresponding regularly and eventually we met up on the banks of the Itchen Navigation in December 2012. Tim's support and encouragement was unbettered throughout. He subscribed to the magazine version of Fennel's Journal on the day it came out. He bought all my books. And he was always first on the phone when I announced a Fennel's Priory event. Most importantly, Tim always asserted – with a sort of big brother resoluteness, even though he was five years younger than me – that I stick to my beliefs, hone my worldview, and "never, ever, don't you dare ever abandon your dreams." (If I suggested quitting early, Tim's "One for the Frog?" would always see me staying on for another drink, in celebration of the 'one for the frog and toad – road' which grew into metaphor for sticking to our life goals as he and I reached middle age.)
I remember back in 2014, when I was very ill following a breakdown, Tim saying to me, "Y'know what, Fennel? You and I need time beside a campfire." Two weeks later, he and I spent a whole night sitting and chatting beside a fire in the New Forest, drinking a litre bottle of Balvenie, listening to nightjars, counting shooting stars and then, as the sun began to rise, watching for deer through the morning mist. He brought me back. Life was wonderful after that. Again, all thanks to Tim.
Tim will be remembered for his uncompromising pursuit of perfection, his unfaltering support for his friends, his love of adventure, his sense of style and fondness of fine things, his ability to hold court and lead a party, his wicked sense of humour – always jibbing his mates but ultimately nudging them to grasp life's bounties – and, of course, his passion for angling and encyclopedic knowledge of angling literature. (Tim was librarian of The Piscatorial Society, also a member of the Library & Collection sub-committee of the Flyfishers' Club that's responsible for the world's largest library of fly-fishing books. And, if that wasn't enough, his personal library extended to a phenomenal 3,000 titles.)
I will remember Tim most for his deep appreciation of nature, bonded within his desire to find the quiet life. Both he and I had strived to balance highly stressful city careers by seeking a more natural and rural existence outside of work. Often we would 'escape the party' to plan how we would enjoy the good life that, we hoped, would come to us when all the madness was over and we could reveal our gentlest and most sensitive "true selves" to the world.
Tim was on the brink of achieving his dream. He'd worked incredibly hard and successfully to enable him to retire at 40 and enjoy a very comfortable life with his wife and young children. But it was not to be. All those years of pressure caught up with him and, facing a future that was not as he'd hoped, he took his own life. He was just 41 years old.
Please donate to the fund created in Tim's memory
The guilt of not being able to help Tim more while he was alive is overwhelming. Emotions are swelled by the burden of "If only I" and the inevitable spiral of self-blame and disbelief that follows.
Coming to terms with things will take a long time. Tim's death has left a huge and crippling hole in the lives of a great many people, myself included. But we can keep the memory of him alive in our thoughts and actions.
On behalf of Tim's family and close friends, I ask that you donate to the fund created in his memory. The proceeds will go to a charity called CALM (Campaign Against Living Miserably) which provides helpline support for those in crisis or affected by suicide. You can donate here via the JustGiving site.
Time out to recover
As you will appreciate, I need to 'go quiet' for a while. My blogs and podcasts will resume once the stream of life regains its sparkle.
Thanks for your understanding.
Fennel
