Concordia 2025

Concordia Winter 2024 Obituaries

Tony Wright (1950–1957)

H is mother, Flora, called him Anthony, but pretty much everyone else called him Tony. On tour, he was Manager or Monk. At the Canton Trade Fair, he was Lai Te Xian Sheng. He was President for one year, Chairman for many more. At home, to his many grandchildren, he was Granddad. And to my sisters and I, he was Dad. So that’s what I’ll call him. Dad’s life was so extraordinary, so full, that a proper summation would require hours, not minutes. To slightly adapt one of his favourite phrases, today I shall attempt to keep a long, wonderful story short. Dad was a modest man who hid his light under a bushel – he would never sing his own praises. I shall take this opportunity to sing them for him. Dad was born in February 1939 at the Princess Mary Hospital at RAF Halton, near Wendover. His father, Harry, served in the RAF, as would Dad during his national service. Harry, Flora and their much-treasured little Anthony lived in Ruislip. A bright boy, Dad left his local primary school with one of the ten annual Middlesex County 11+ Scholarships to Merchant Taylors’ in Northwood. Those exam results changed his life, admitting him to a future full of friendship and opportunity. He loved his time at Taylors’. He made mates for life and played all the sport he could: somehow, he was awarded 2nd XI colours at cricket for three years in a row without ever playing for the Firsts, but at rugby he was more successful, winning colours for the First XV. He even learned a thing or two along the way, especially languages – he was very, very good at those. When he was conscripted for National Service after school in 1958, it therefore made sense for him to join the RAF and

apply for pre-selection to one of their language courses. He had a choice to make: learn Russian and be posted to Berlin, or learn Mandarin and be posted to Hong Kong. Perhaps it wasn’t really a choice. After a year of intensive training at RAF Pucklechurch, he was flown out to Hong Kong in the autumn of 1959. Nearly 60 years later, on his last visit to Hong Kong, Dad, Gill and I walked up to the summit of Mt. Austin on Hong Kong Island. It was a warm day and a steep climb, so we sat down for a rest and took in the stunning view. After a while, Gill and I noticed Dad had gone AWOL. Eventually, we saw him in the distance, determinedly walking up a narrow road. He had remembered his way to a restricted area, the exact spot where, all those years ago, he monitored Chinese military and official radio communications as a RAF Junior Technician Linguist. I often wonder what the security guards, watching the CCTV at Victoria Peak Radio Station, made of the smiling 79-year-old Englishman, taking photos of their buildings through barbed-wire fences. Returning to the UK, Dad worked for John Little in the City; his fluent Mandarin making him an obvious choice for negotiating deals in the People’s Republic. He lived in Hong Kong for a year, from 1962 to 1963, then making the first of his many trips to the mainland. Over the next decade, in the aftermath of the Great Leap Forward, followed the Cultural Revolution. Not many foreigners were allowed into China then, but Dad was, taking the Kowloon-Canton railway to Guangzhou, staying at the Dongfang hotel and attending the Trade Fair twice a year to negotiate deals on behalf of UK clients. From buying commodities like horsetail hair and hog bristles, increasingly Dad was instructed to

purchase metals and minerals. This became his area of expertise and the basis of a very successful career. When he was home, Dad lived at Durrants — literally — maintaining there a busy social life that revolved around rugby, cricket and jazz. It was at Rickmansworth Jazz Club that Dad first met Jane Sumner. He would write her letters from far-flung places and Mum, at home in Ricky, would read them out loud to her family because they were funny – he made her laugh. After what his Best Man, Colin Pritchard, called a whirlwind courtship, they married in 1968, ten years after they first met. Mum and Dad moved to Harefield and Dad stopped posting his washing to his mother in Torquay. Halcyon days followed: Elizabeth, Katherine, Sarah and I arrived, and the family moved from Harefield to Rickmansworth to The Orchard in Chorleywood, home to the legendary Daffodil Parties. At work, Dad was much in demand. He was sent to the DDR to utilise his fluent German. By now he was with Phillip Brothers, then the largest trading company in metals and minerals, helping to establish their business in China after President Nixon’s visit in 1972. After that, his business travelling took him to Thailand, Malaysia, Japan, Australia, the USA, the Soviet Union and the Czechoslovak Socialist Republic. He became an expert on the tungsten market, presenting papers at conferences and advising the UK government at UN Trade and Development meetings. Durrants was a second home on weekends – not just for playing or watching rugby or cricket, usually with kids in tow, but also, incredibly, for pantomimes, some of which he wrote. In his own words, his speciality was

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