A Motorbike community is in mourning for the father of their `family', Captain Ted Bishop, 84, from Southampton. The Army hero had lived his life to the full after being left for dead during the Second World War. One of his friends, fellow Southampton biker John Tipple, pays a moving tribute

THE death has occurred of Captain Ted Bishop, 84, of Bassett Green Road, Swaythling. Classics scholar, linguist, teacher, career soldier and above all a lifetime motorcyclist, he enriched the lives of many in this city and far beyond.

Born into an Indian Army family, he was educated in Southampton and gained his classics degree from University College, Southampton. Wartime service in the Army saw him rise through the ranks from sergeant to captain as a specialist in military intelligence, where the phenomenal number of languages he spoke were put to good use. Wounded and left for dead in the Western Desert he was cared for by passing Bedouin and returned to Allied lines. The course of the war took him to Italy where an Allied intelligence conference he was attending was bombed by the US Air Force by mistake Germany, Austria and to Cyprus and the Middle East after the war. Extremely reluctant to speak of his military career, he had little time for the official paraphernalia of Remembrance, parades and uniforms, privately honouring his fallen comrades by living every moment of his own life to the full.

A teaching career followed where he taught modern languages and classics at King Edwards and Merry Oak School, Southampton, among others. Digressions from the curriculum introduced his pupils to the delights of literature and especially the work of Professor JRR Tolkien, who wrote Lord of the Rings.

Involvement in a multitude of organisations, including the Samaritans, Southampton and District Motorcycle Club, of which he was treasurer, the RNLI, British Trust for Ornithology and the Tolkein Society, kept his fine mind pin-sharp in retirement. He won The Times prize crossword competition several times and his refusal to accept sloppiness of language in any form made him a regular contributor to the Echo letters page.

He rode his beloved 400cc Honda until he was obliged to hang up his helmet in his eighties but could still be found banging out his pipe with gusto and enjoying good real ale, raising the level of conversation from that of the corner pub to the gentleman's club.

Born in a time and social situation far removed from us now, he managed to transcend that background and shared his wisdom and zest for life with any who would listen, regardless of age, gender or lifestyle. In return we, his fiends, were able to enable him to live with dignity and independence in his own house to the end. There will be many omissions in this brief account of a life so full; no one knew the complete picture. I will remember him in his chair at home, pipe in clenched teeth, liberated Wehrmacht field glasses in hand to survey his wild woodland garden full of songbirds.

This article has been published to this web site with the kind permission of
THE SOUTHERN EVENING ECHO