Freya Stark - The Lycian Shore

As I came down from the causeway through the theatre, a black snake like a shy god slid into the laurel thicket; I stepped over the stones rattled by earthquakes on their foundations, and climbed from terrace to terrace of corn where peasants built shallow walls round the pockets of ancient houses. The full ears, ready for harvest, beat their slight weight against my passing hand, as if they to would spend their weak resistance for the headland's warm and living peace. So remote, so undisturbed was the great hollow, that its own particular divinity seemed to fill it - complete in being as a cup is filled to the brim. There was no judgement here but only the consequence of actions; the good corn filled itself out in deeper places and the bad dwindled among stones, and all things were a part of each other in a soil that someone's building two thousand or more years ago had flattened or spoiled. A fair-haired woman, still beautiful, with green eyes, was reaping. I asked if I might photograph, and she called her husband, who came climbing up and stood beside her, and glanced at her and smiled when I said that she was like the English to look at: they were both pleased by her fairness, and there was a happy friendliness between them. He had the oval face of the Mediterranean, and she the straight northern brows: and the history of the world had washed over Cnidus to produce them both, from the days when their ancestors, in the oldest city of the peninsular, joined in building the Hellenium in Egypt, or sent the first caryatid to Delphi".
Freya Stark-- The Lycian Shore

Tokyo Retirement Speech

Herry, Luke Readman and Moto Sugiura at The UK Club Directors' Party
at the Palace Hotel in Tokyo. Herry and Stephen James retired at the party
and Herry made a farewell speech which is set out here.

Minasama, konbanwa!

I have been honoured to work amongst you for almost 30 years, without any doubt the most satisfying and fascinating aspect of my career. I first visited Japan in 1978, and soon fell in love with all things Japanese. I was immediately struck by the very tangible sense of harmony that exists in this great city and all over Japan and which derives from individuals living not just for themselves but also for their fellow man – and for Japanese society. I was astonished at the care which Japanese take over details that elsewhere would be ignored or taken for granted - shown particularly in the exquisite craftsmanship that goes into even quite humble things. And the way in which in Japan high quality has never been confused, as it is in Europe and America – with luxury. So quality as an ideal can be pursued without detractors, to the great advantage of Japanese businesses whose reputation for quality is now unmatched.

I also found over time, loyalty and trustworthiness from everybody that I encountered. Even those businesses which for a time struggled to survive took great pains to settle their debts in an honourable way. There was also a strong sense of continuity. I met and was made to feel welcome by those who my predecessors, particularly Sidney Fowler and Terence Coghlin, had themselves dealt with. Of course following those substantial figures was not so easy, but you never made me feel anything other than appreciated and respected.

Of course P&I is a form of mutual self-help that blends well with Japanese thinking, which takes a long-term view of business and business relationships. It is insurance, but insurance built not just on the exchange of premiums for claims, but on a deeply shared understanding of the risks faced by shipowners every day - from the awful power of the unforgiving oceans to the rapacious attentions of corrupt or incompetent officials to the simple errors that accompany any human endeavour - but which at sea can prove devastating. As such it is really a contract based on trust: trust that when things go wrong – as sadly and inevitably they will in even the best-run companies – the Club will be beside you seeking every means to solve the problem and settle whatever costs – even totally unexpected ones – may arise.

I can see friends here too numerous to mention by name, some who have themselves already retired. In that respect, our business is doubly satisfying. The build up of trust engenders friendship and one of the many great advantages of our world is that our friendships can extend to every continent and we can travel to cement them far more regularly than most people are ever able to do.

It is impossible for me to say farewell without making reference to my colleagues that I have worked with in Japan over the years. Luke Readman, now chairman of Thomas Miller P&I, spent a great deal of time here in the '80s, and was instrumental in setting up the Club’s Japan Branch office in 1989. Luke is particularly remembered for his work on pollution issues, especially OPA 90, as well as the early LNG contracts with Indonesia. Nigel Carden, who now takes responsibility for Japan amongst the managers, joined me here from the early '90s onwards, and is also known for his expertise in environmental issues as well as LNG, and has also handled many of the most difficult and expensive claims that have occurred in recent years. He is now very well known to you all and I have not the least doubt that you will give him all the support and friendship that you have given me over the years.

Great tribute must also be paid to my Japanese colleagues, particularly Moto Sugiura, who as you can see is destined to outlast us all. Not only is he still winning any long driver contest that he cares to enter, but he has already won the long service contest, having started with Dodwell as long ago as 1964, and is still the lynch-pin around which the Club functions in Japan.

It is very difficult to say goodbye to somewhere that has become something of a second home to me over the years. I suspect, however, that my farewell will be short-lived and I will continue to invent many reasons for continuing to visit my friends and the lovely places that abound in Japan, for many years to come.

Domo arigato gozaimashita

Herry Lawford
8th May 2006



A Japanese translation of this speech can be found here http://www.ukpandi.jp/ClubPress200605_2.html

Memories of the Taj

The galleried floors at the Taj

Click the heading for more photos of the Taj

This was originally an article written for Lloyd's List in 2006

My first visit to India - and to the Taj - was in 1972, when I accompanied Bill Birch Reynardson (later Miller's senior partner) on a visit. The UK Club had already established an interest in India in the '60s when Frank Ledwith made several visits in which he set up Rustom Mehta and his assistant Suresh Mankad from New India Assurance as the Club's correspondents.

Bill Birch Reynardson in 2013

I had been with Thomas Miller for about five years and my travelling - often with Bill Birch Reynardson - had until then been confined mostly to former Yugoslavia which, although beautiful, had communist-drab hotels and certainly nothing as richly magnificent as the Taj. Its stunning position overlooking the Arabian Sea towards what would later become Bombay High and its powerful Victorian architecture next to the Gateway of India, made an instant impression.

I had always been drawn to India partly because, like many Englishmen, I have family connections going back several generations through both the Lawfords and my mother's family, the Pughs. General Edward Lawford, an engineer, had commanded the garrison in Madras and Mysore in the 1850s and his younger brother, Lt-Col Henry (1812-1880) also served in Madras. Likewise Lt-Col Edward Melville Lawford (1826-1891) was Colonel of the 4th Madras Cavalry, while his younger brother, Henry Baring Lawford was Chief Judge of the High Court of Kishnagur. Further back, Edward Lawford, another lawyer, became wealthy as Solicitor to the East India Company and Clerk to the Drapers Livery Company, and had his home, Eden Park, described appreciatively by Pevsner in 'The Buildings of England'

My grandmother, Nina Arundel, whose father Sir Arundel Tagg Arundel was on Curzon's staff, married my grandfather Col Archie Pugh, who was then a solicitor in Calcutta, in 1894, while my great-grandfather Lewis Pugh Evans Pugh was Attorney-General for Bengal. My mother was born in Darjeeling, the nearest hill station (though even today several hours journey away), and I remember her talking of the view of the Himalayas as seen from her bedroom window. A Pugh great uncle (Lewis Pugh) had led the raid by the Calcutta Light Horse on Goa in the Second World War (which disabled German warships providing intelligence about the movement of allied shipping and was later made into a film ‘The Sea Wolves’ in which his part was played by Gregory Peck). 

It was thus with ribbons of family history behind me that we set up in rooms off the open galleries of the ‘old’ Taj, the new Taj tower not having yet been built. Bill Birch Reynardson took a suite with a fine dining room in which we entertained shipowners, government officials (such as the Director General of Shipping), lawyers and others at a long table flanked by white coated waiters. The ‘ordinary’ rooms were not lavish, but they had one marvellous attribute in that the windows could be thrown wide to let in the warm Arabian sea breezes bearing the scent of jasmine and spices. The sounds of hawkers, snake charmers and the daily thong of people who gathered on the seafront under one’s windows in the mornings and particularly in the evenings made the strongest sensory impression, and one that maintained my love for the Taj above all other hotels.


Sadly this magical experience can no longer be repeated, as they have finally replaced the old (and admittedly rickety) windows. The ‘new’ windows can only now be opened by calling on a member of staff - who has to be called back to close them again - and have no restraining bar so they can no longer be left wide open.

Needless to say I bought a Kashmiri carpet on that trip, and laid it out in my room. Bill Birch Reynardson was sure that I had been robbed but I was delighted with it, and it remains a prized family possession more than forty years later.

I returned to India in 1978 and spent three weeks travelling around the country visiting Calcutta, Delhi and Madras, and learning details of Indian maritime law and customs – and indeed Customs (with a large C) were one of the Clubs' major problems in those days as shortages and pilferage were rife in the docks and Customs enthusiastically raised Show Cause Notices for the infringements, sometimes years after the event. Indeed so egregious was the Customs Authority's behaviour that eventually the leading Indian lawyer, S Venkiteswaran (known to all as Venky) took a case to the Supreme Court and got the ancient customs penalties struck down on the grounds of natural justice.

On another occasion in the early '80s I dealt with a case involving Japanese owners who had suffered at the hands of an Indian bill of lading forger. The owner (now the president of the company) and I spent a two weeks meeting in the Taj trying to recover monies lost as the result of cargoes being delivered to criminal interests.

Needless to say I continued to stay at the Taj, learning to escape the heat and crowds in its great halls. In the gardens one watched the crows swoop down to grab sandwiches off guests’ plates. The food at the Taj was mostly indifferent, although the toasted chicken tikka sandwiches were excellent, but they made their own crisps and the most delicious home made ginger ale, so strong that it had to be drunk with brandy or it would take the back of your throat off! Sadly neither of these delicacies are available any more. Visiting regularly in the 1980s in furtherance of ITIC's business in India - the agents there being understandably concerned about the long tail customs penalties - I got to know some of the Taj staff, two of whom have remained friends to this day, and I am godfather to one of their children

.

The pool at the Taj

One of my Miller colleagues, Robin Travis, took over the P&I role in India when I became involved with ITIC, and I joined him on occasion entertaining the Indian maritime community at cocktail parties next to the pool at the Taj; splendid events on warm evenings under dark blue velvet skies. In those days - and until quite recently - Bombay was a "dry" city, alcohol being allowed only if you could show that you were a registered alcoholic, so one had to bring in spirits. But this never seemed to result in any shortage at parties.

Later, in the early 90’s, serious rioting broke out in the city, with mobs overturning buses and burning cars. As it wasn’t safe to travel to the airport, I was stuck at the Taj for three days until the brave correspondent, Capt Sundareshan, drove me safely past the throngs and I was able to get on a plane

Another vagary of the hotel, although probably not entirely of its own making, used to be its fantastically poor telephone system. As laptops began to be carried in the '90s and we attempted to gather our e-mail from our servers back in London, hours would sometimes pass on lines so poor that one sometimes had to leave the system connected all night in order to get important documents. In fact it was far cheaper, even after acrimonious correspondence with the hotel management to get the hotel telephone bills reduced by 70 or 80%, to go back to fax.

The service at the Taj declined during the '90s until, prompted by the rise of the Oberoi on the other side of Nariman Point, the hotel pulled itself together and it is again smart and well run. The service has improved back to the level of the 1970s with of course the addition of modern communications and equipment in the rooms. Unfortunately, though, the food is still not the best and is far better at the Oberoi. On a recent visit, too, a companion who I was entertaining in one of the lounges was scratched on the ankle by a rat, which produced a low-key furore amongst the staff.

As is obvious, the Taj is built back to front, supposedly as a snub to the British. The hotel should stretch its two long wings magnificently towards the sea, but in fact it embraces the city behind. Consequently there are far fewer rooms facing the ocean than there should be - and I now find it almost impossible to get a sea view room. However, with the windows now sealed there is much less pleasure in watching the sun rise over Bombay High.

Shirt and suit makers still ply their trade in the shops on the ground floor. The shirts are fine, and all my business shirts come from there. Doubtless I pay more for them than I would do if I hunted down bargains in the city, but the convenience of walking in on the way back from a day's work and ordering three more "as per last" to be delivered to one's room in a day or two, makes them irresistible. Suits are however another thing. I once had a safari suit made, being told by the correspondent that this was what well dressed Englishmen should wear to conduct business in Bombay. The suit was duly produced but I hadn't reckoned with the fact that styles were many years behind Europe, and it sported huge bell bottoms. Needless to say it was never worn and I continued to stick boringly to a City suit. Attempts at a silk suit also failed. The cloth itself seemed fine, but what I failed to understand was that the quality of the ‘innards’ (the canvas and padding that are essential to a comfortable suit) were of an inferior quality compared to those used on good suits in London. Again an unworn suit and a lesson (rather more expensively) learned.

One of my fondest memories of the Taj was of an occasion when I was not there at all. My nephew's then girlfriend Sam Asprey took a backpacking trip around India with two other friends and before she left I gave her a sealed envelope, only to be opened when she reached Bombay - which would be after several months dusty travel. When she got there she opened the envelope and found an invitation for two nights at the Taj for her and her friends. I can still hear the squeals of delight from the phone call they made to me that night.

Herry Lawford
24th February 2006

Retirement Party in Beijing

Herry with Qian Yongshan, a former chairman of Cosco and ex-Minister of Communications and Li Kejun, chairman of China Classification Society and of Thomas Millers' joint-venture company China Marine Services.

I was honoured to have a number of retirement parties in cities around the world - London (Trinity House and the office), Tokyo, Hong Kong, Singapore Sydney, Bombay - and Beijing. Beijing was different in that it included entertainment in the shape of songs by Ge Xiao Lu - a friend who, with Daphne Li, had performed at the UK Club's Directors' Meeting in Shanghai in 2002.

Ge Xiao Lu and Daphne Li

Herry's Trinity House Retirement Speech

Retirement is a strange thing. You find yourself voluntarily walking away from friends you've worked with for many years - in my case nearly 40 - and a business and an industry that you love.  It's an industry that's full of interesting and intelligent people – a few of whom are here tonight – and lives on a daily diet of fascinating news and events. Like the proverbial butterfly in the Amazon, much of what happens around the world has its effect in time here in EC3.  People come and go of course, and a number of my friends have already retired, but surprisingly few people ever leave the industry that we're in, and for some reason, most of us, despite a peripatetic lifestyle and more entertaining than may be good for us, remain pretty healthy.  That being said, I'm mindful of the example of Dawson Miller who retired as senior partner of Millers in December 1970 and died in January 1971!

It's a truism, but our business is built on friendships and hard work.  I've long admired the story of the fox in Le Petit Prince. He meets the little prince and advises him how to make friends. There is more truth in that short passage than in almost all so-called philosophical writings. And without the ingredient of friendship, business would be just business and for most people would be ultimately unsatisfying.  The great advantage of our world is that our friendships can extend to every continent and we can travel to cement them far more regularly than most people are ever able to do.

It was Sir Joshua Reynolds who said, ‘If you have great talents, industry will improve them: if you have but moderate abilities, industry will supply their deficiency.’  I am certainly in the ‘moderate ability’ category, but I have been blessed with enough energy to remain industrious, even if that industriousness is sometimes somewhat misplaced As my long-suffering colleagues know, I seem to have spent an inordinate amount of time taking photographs – even tonight!.  But persistence and hard work are part of the same coin. You will remember an erudite American president – yes, they have had them – said that nothing in the world can take the place of persistence: ‘Talent will not; nothing is more common than unsuccessful men of talent. Genius will not; unrewarded genius is almost a proverb.  Education will not; the world is full of educated failures.’ Well, here in this room we have education, talent and occasionally genius, but I believe that the things that have brought us all here are hard work and persistence.

We have quite a crop of retirements this year, both in Millers and in the industry.  Millers are seeing the retirement of Stephen James and Francis Frost shortly after me - which is explicable by the fact that we all started in Millers on the same day, in October 1967 - or at least they did; for reasons that have never been satisfactorily explained I turned up a day late.  Needless to say, they've bagged the window-side desks ever since. And we have just said goodbye to Tony Payne, with whom I worked happily alongside for ten years in ITIC - and later this year will see Hugh Wodehouse hanging up his debating socks.

Outside we are seeing the retirement of Chris Horrocks, Mans Jacobssen and Lloyd Watkins all of whom have had 100% more influence on our industry than I have, but show, on the ‘exception that proves the rule’ principle, what a vintage year this for decanting people. Incidentally one of my few claims to fame is that I was Lloyd’s immediate predecessor as Secretary of the International Group; a title that cut some ice in on my visits to places like Saudi Arabia with Francis Frost in the early 80s but as with most of our institutions, was many times easier to perform then than it has been in recent years.

As I move on from the City, I recall the retiree's prayer:  ‘God grant me the senility to forget the people I never liked anyway; the good fortune to run into the ones I do - and the eyesight to tell the difference’.  I’m not going to use that as an excuse to tell you about the people I never liked anyway, because I can honestly say that I can't think of a single person in my business life who falls into that category.  In any event, you risk offending those who might be expected to give you a decent lunch from time to time, to catch up on the gossip of which you were once the object.

Instead, I am very much hoping that I will continue to run into the ones I do - which is all of you and many more besides.  Quite a number of you here have not just been friends, but have also enhanced my career by what I might call ‘flattering my performance’.  That will go for most of the correspondents, lawyers, surveyors and other experts here whose experience and erudition has often got both me and the person that I was supposed to be advising out of a tight hole.

Amongst those who have flattered my career are of course a number of my colleagues, several of them who have already passed into that amazing post-Miller state in which they look 10 years younger than they did before they retired.  I can't avoid mentioning two or three key people, although many more than that qualify.  First Bill Birch Reynardson, whose unwise invitation while shooting with my father to send young Herry up to Millers instead of to the bar was the luckiest break in my life, as well as his wonderful tutelage, both in matters of business and also in how to travel in style in places like Yugoslavia and India – not to mention Bahgdad, I have never forgotten.  The late Frank Ledwith, of course, who taught all of us who joined Miller's in the '60s, indoctrinating us in his year-long programme entitled ‘The Complete Mutual Insurance Man’ - I wish we still used it today. And Terence Coghlin, who I sat with when I first came up to Miller's from university. My attempts to learn from him what he knew of P&I and Defence and about marvellous places like Japan, left his brain practically untouched.  David Martin-Clark too, was an immense help to me in many ways, particularly in the early days of the running of ITIC.  He was also my predecessor in Asia and left that ground well-tilled.

Finally, I must mention my former secretary of over 20 years, Jo Johns, who I am glad to say has made it up here tonight from playing Widow Twankey in the panto at Cowes - although I am still well served by my current secretary, Pam Costello, who has organised this evening so excellently.  There is no denying that an exceptional secretary plays a key part in one's career.  Just to give you a flavour of Jo’s work ethic, (while keeping very quiet about her still more remarkable life and loves), she used to reach the office at 6 am every morning, and didn't leave until late in the evening.  The early mornings, she knew, were when I must reply to faxes from Japan, because the Japanese would expect to have an answer to the questions they sent the same day, before they themselves went home.  Nowadays, I suppose it's more efficient to bash out an e-mail oneself, but something is lost in the harmonious flow of work from the time when your secretary knew exactly what work you were doing.

Of course, ‘panta rei’ - everything changes - and we all need to move on.  I am becoming a grandfather in October and will be glad to have more time to give to the family, though whether my long-suffering wife Ayako will enjoy having a ‘wet leaf’ around after posting me missing for about half of every year remains to be seen.  However, being a grandfather reminds me of the lovely story of the little boy who goes up to his grandfather and says, "Grandad, can you make a noise like a frog?"  "Why do you ask?" says his grandfather.  The little boy replies, "Because mummy and daddy say that when you croak, we can get a new car."

And those of you who know me particularly well will know that I can’t make a speech without telling one of my favourite ‘bishop’ jokes. This one involves two bishops having a drink at the Atheneum. One of them was bemoaning the decline in modern morality and he said ‘But I never slept with my wife before I married her, did you?’ At which the other one looked up from his port and replied, ‘I really can’t remember old boy. What was her maiden name?’

And then there's my favourite story, and one that I'll leave you with.  It's a line from Johnny Carson who said, ‘I know a man who was determined to live a long life.  He gave up smoking, drinking, rich food and sex.  He was healthy right up until the time he killed himself!’  I'm determined to live a long life, and remain as happy as I have been amongst you all.  Thank you very much.

Herry Lawford
Trinity House, 13th April 2006

Sunset over Cormorant Lake

Astavakra Gita

Three Aspects of the Absolute by Bulaki 1923

You are not made up of earth, water, fire, air or space. You are not the body. You are not a particular name or form. You are not a member of a particular family or tribe. You are not connected with any nation or culture. You are not in any way related to the things of this world. You are not perceivable by the gross or the subtle senses. You are the witness of these. You are the immortal self, the universal consciousness.

Concepts of right or wrong, vice or virtue, doing or enjoying, pleasure or pain are all of the mind. They are not of you.

The root of all misery is duality. There is no other remedy for this disease except the realisation that all objects of experience are unreal and all that there is is the one, pure consciousness.
The rising of the wind in the mind produces the multifarious waves of the world. With the calming dawn of knowledge they again vanish without a trace. In me, the boundless ocean, the waves of individual selves with countless names and forms arise, strike each other, play for a time and disappear, each according to their own nature. I the ocean am not affected.

The ego trades in good and bad fruits and acquires profit and loss through endless comings and goings, using the ship of the world to carry on his trade; but when the mind disappears and the illusion of the world is destroyed, the ego is completely obliterated.

Know that all the objects of the world are but combinations of the five elements. Whether you consider them to be beautiful or ugly, whether you desire them or dislike them, all phenomenal things are made up of the same stuff, the impermanent elements. Desires alone make up the world. Look upon friends, lands, wealth, houses, wives, presents and other such marks of good fortune as a dream or a juggler's show, lasting only a few moments. The three goals of ordinary life, desire for kith and kin and sensual enjoyments, worldly rewards and prosperity and the attainment of a reputation for performing good works are your enemies; they are attended by mischief and misery. Only by non-attachment to the world will you attain the constant joy of the realisation of the self.https://realization.org/p/ashtavakra-gita/ashtavakra-gita.html

Favourite Poems - Edna St Vincent Millay - Eight Sonnets V

What lips my lips have kissed, and where, and why,I have forgotten, and what arms have lainUnder my head till morning; but the rainIs full of ghosts to-night, that tap and sighUpon the glass and listen for reply;And in my heart there stirs a quiet pain,For unremembered lads that not againWill turn to me at midnight with a cry.

Thus in the winter stands the lonely tree,Nor knows what birds have vanished one by one,Yet knows its boughs more silent than before:I cannot say what loves have come and gone;I only know that summer sang in meA little while, that in me sings no more.
Edna St Vincent Millay - Eight Sonnets V
See also this beautiful poem - Love Is Not All

The Distant City

The Gold Coast from Mermaids at Burleigh Heads. Click the heading for more photos. There is also a live beach cam here

The Gold Coast feels like the beginning of everything; the sharp, clear light has touched nothing for a thousand miles until this sandy promontory merges with the ocean at Burleigh Heads. Here Mermaids, my favourite beach bar in all the world, draws people for its awesome views and superb wine, food and music. Sit outside with your feet in the sand with a glass of Vasse Felix or Cullens, or inside beside the unbroken slab of mermaid-green glass which serves as the bar, and watch the surfers take the last waves and know that you are in one of the finest places on earth.

December 2011 Update: Sadly, it's no longer so special, and is renamed Meech's. But the view remains superb!

Walk