Calamares.

In memory of Phil, whose death in April I only learned of yesterday, I decided to have a FO lunch in his honour. Phil coined the adjective "FuckOff" to describe anything excessively large, as in FO lunch, his beloved Parkgate FO fish and chips, or an inappropriately huge lens being inexpertly wielded by one of his day students ("look at that twat with the FO lens"). My very first blip was created on one of his courses, of which I did so many I could probably have taught them at the end, though really just an excuse to spend time at my beloved Burton Manor. After my health mishaps in 2011, he took me out on occasional outings, also here, and always cheered me up with his irreverent sense of humour. Phil was a kind and compassionate man, and always seemed to bring out the best in people. He even managed to get a smile out of me when I was feeling especially low. A great photographer of course, but not loaded down with expensive or the latest equipment, he promoted technique not technology. He loved life: sport photography, music (jamming in a band), and was immensely proud of his two adult sons. He didn't suffer fools gladly, and had a repertoire of choice language to express that, but his humorous view of life seemed to get him through most challenges, as well as, I thought, health issues over the past few years. We'd text every few months to see if we were both still alive (as a joke I thought), but the last time I did that there was no reply. His last text was to wish me a happy Easter. Miss you Phil.