Here is a man who has lived, old Jock. Jock is a legend in the junior formula's of British motorsport and a legendary hellraiser. It is my sad duty to report the death of Jock Ruck-Crimes at the age of 88. I'm sure a lot of you who have spent time behind the scenes at Silverstone will know and remember him well (particularly those lucky enough to see the right side of the entrance to the BRDC). Jock started his motorsport career as a marshal actually and then gradually wormed his way into the favours of various motorsport teams. It was actually a brief career that was blighted by an accident at his beloved Silverstone in '59 and which caused a premature end to any further competitive pursuits. His mission then became to look after his beloved circuit, culminating in seeing the recent 17 year deal coming to fruition. He loved that. Anyway, please join me in wishing his family well. If you have any stories about Jock, I'd love to hear them. From another friend of Jock The first time I met 'Jock' he was drunkenly hanging onto the bar top of the 8:15 pm Express train Bar to Edinburgh from Kings Cross in 1967. It was clear he had wet himself and accused me of spilling his drink on him and demanded 2/-6d for another double whisky. He then proceeded to vomit down the back of another passenger, who became very upset and angry. Her husband barged passed me and punch Jock square on the face. Jock went down like a sack of loose spuds, but quickly recovered and was back on his feet and totally unperturbed by the punch. "Ye punch like a girl." he replied to the assailant as he grabbed my glass from me, smashed it on the bartop and pushed it into his face. He then proceeded to expertly administer First Aid to the chap who cowered behind his vomit covered wife. At this point, the Guard came into the carriage and demanded to know what had happened. He made the mistake of grabbing Jock by the collar of his raincoat. Jock took great exception to this, stood up and kicked him in the groin and as his head was down, grabbed his hair and kicked him in the face with the flat of his foot. A number of other passengers then waded in and it became a free for all. So I decided to leave the carriage and go back to my seat, only to astoundlingly find Jock asleep on it! When he woke up about 10 miles from Hawick, he could not remember anything about the incident, as he took a small refreshment from his hip flask. And more; I too am sad to hear of Jock's passing, I shall raise a glass of eggnog to him this evening, I remember when we did our national service together, he won't be angry if I share this tale I'm sure. One of our General's was on a tour of the Tidworth camp one afternoon and overheard one of our Colour Sgt's making an announcement over the tannoy, "Attention Private Long, attention Private Long. Private Long, your mother has died. That is all." Aforementioned General is appalled at the lack of sensitivity of the Colour Sgt and rips into him in front of the boys, he then threatens to discipline him if he is ever that insensitive again. About a month later, he is touring the camp again and notices that same Colour Sgt has the boys assembled in front of the barracks and decides he will listen in to see if the Colour Sgt has learned anything. He hears the Colour Sgt say, " Every man whose mother is still living take one step forward... except YOU Ruck-Crimes!" And this is how we learned of the passing of the formidable Delores Ruck-Crimes, consort and concubine to the establishment who served with such distinction in this role in India while attached to the Colonial Service for 'administrative duties'. Indeed, those who knew her would understand why Jock was the way Jock was. That, of course, is a whole other story. It's safe to say that Jock lived a full and colourful life.