This morning I was bleary eyed – sorting out various bowls of various cereals – frying eggs to try and coincide with beige toast – all whilst keeping an ear on BBC Radio5. My boys and their breakfast squabbles are always louder than the radio but this morning, somehow my antennae latched on to a name. It was a story I came late to – something about a fatality in the arctic and then a name, Philip Goodeve-Docker.
The name did more than ring a bell. Such an unsual surname – I figured that it was unlikely that there could be more than one – but I wondered and I hoped that I might have got the name wrong of the person I know but alas.
Philip was a comedy promoter and corporate booker. He ran a lovely little club in Brook Green, Hammersmith, just along from where I went to school. I played it a couple of times. Philip had an infectious enthusiasm. He knew practically all of his audeince by name and he was very kind and caring to his comics. He was also very kind to me about my book, how tom holland eclipsed his dad – and assured me that it would one day take off.Â
No one could have imagined the fate that awaited Philip. Just 30 and with so much to offer – he is a great loss to his friends and family and I pay this little tribute to him here. This morning, the eggs for the Holland boys were overcooked – but they all understood why and there were no complaints.
Philip Goodeve-Docker – RIP