The Revd John Watkins writes:

THE Revd Peter Angus Ragsdale Hammersley died at home in Tar­­ring­­­ton, Herefordshire, on 9 June, aged 84. With him were his wife, Peggy, and their two sons, Andy and Nick.

Peter was part of a Worcestershire family that had founded E. R. Hammersley, a successful firm of men’s clothing manufacturers. From Bromsgrove School, he gained a place at Jesus College, Oxford, to read Classics. It was not for any lack of academic ability that his time at Oxford was curtailed, but it became clear to him and to everybody else that he wasn’t actually doing much work, and so he undertook National Service. He trained for a commission at Eton Hall, joined the Worces­ter­shire Regiment, went on second­ment to Africa, and then finished his time in the forces with the SAS.

It was possibly his easy way with people rather than being part of a fighting force which accounted for his success. In his self-deprecating way, Peter told the story of how, after parachute drops, his task was to gather up the troops and lead them forth. This it seems did not always work particularly well and even­tu­ally it was the sergeant who advised him: “When you land, sir, stay right where you are, and we’ll come and find you.”

At the end of his commission, Peter chose not to join the family clothing firm, but moved, with Peggy, to Zambia, where he took up a senior job in a textile firm. It was during his time in Africa, in par­ticular in Ndola Cathedral, where he led some services, that his sense of vocation bubbled up; he had spoken lightly of ordination before joining the army. Peter described how he tired of balance sheets and “the bottom line”, and came to see with a new clarity that what really mattered were the people in the whole opera­tion, all those around him.

Before he could take up a place at Lincoln Theological College, he strug­­gled to be taken seriously by ACCM; he was appalled by how many obstacles seemed to be put in the way of an applicant from Africa. Eventually, he arrived at a selection conference and, before registering, he went to gather himself together at the local hostelry. He fell into con­versation with another customer; only later did he discover that his drinking companion was one of the selectors. On hearing this story, none of us were surprised that it all worked out so well. Spending only a short time with Peter could seriously affect one’s thoughts.

His ministry began in Stafford, before he took up a post in working-class parish in West Bromwich. From there, in 1988, he became Vicar of Streetly, not too far away, but a rather stark contrast. He also served as Rural Dean of Walsall. Among his experiences was becom­ing the training incumbent to a certain Giles Fraser. Peter, it seems, was carefully selected, prepared, and warned by the College Principal. The biggest challenge, reportedly, was not to educate his curate with regard to doctrine, but to give him serious advice on matters more sartorial.

The last six years of Peter’s li­­censed ministry were in group of rural parishes in Herefordshire, where he was an assistant curate in the Ledbury Team Ministry. This was an entirely deliberate move to remain in parish ministry; he could have easily followed a more glitter­ing path, but he was never in any doubt about what mattered to him, those around him.

There would be very few who would not find his services deeply moving: there were no wasted words, and it all added together to finish up much more than the sum of its parts. He never used notes when preaching; he might have tried to give the impression that he had come up with his words while walk­ing up the church path, but his congregations came to know that it would all have been well thought out in the gardening moments. Gar­den­­ing was the great relaxation, along with Mahler, family, friends, and his study of the Peninsular Wars.

Peter had an extraordinary ability to make all the people he met feel special. He energised a parish in such a way that people wanted to make their contribution, whether that was to arrange flowers, look after the church accounts, or offer themselves for ordination.

In Tarrington, the village where he and Peggy had lived for 20 years, there were few who didn’t know him. He moved so easily among people from diverse backgrounds that all those who met him, church­goers or not, would feel that they had a unique connection.

Peter had been receiving treat­ment for myeloma for some several years. Each time it looked as if the treatment choices had come to an end, there would be just one last thing available, and he would have a year or two more.

The service at the Hereford Cre­m­atorium was conducted by his friend, Prebendary Nicola Seabright. She reflected on how Peter saw in all people the image of the God who had created him. The assistant cur­ate referred to Peter’s firm belief in the ministry of humour. Having asked Peter for advice on projector screens in church, and the current guidance involving the use of these, not hymn books or service sheets, and a screen over the coffin, the curate pronounced Peter’s response: “Not over my dead body.”