I first met Dom about thirty years ago when Glyn, Wayne and I had six tickets for the Twickenham Sevens - one of the spares went to my then girlfriend who we made an "honorary boy" for the day (her nick-name was Ben, she didn't mind, and we're still married!), one ticket was allocated to the picnic (solids on the seat, liquids on the floor), and of the last ticket Glyn said "I know just the bloke .....". From the other stories that have been posted you won't be surprised to know that Dom sat next to the picnic!

Over the next twenty-odd years I bumped into Dom now and again at the odd rugby game - one abiding memory is of standing outside a bar after full time at Landsdowne Road: we'd all learned to carry four pints of Guinness but on Dom's return from the bar he smiled, handed over four pints, then pulled out another four from the inside and outside pockets of his Barbour jacket - less a little spillage, obviously!

It was at the Croke Park game in Dublin that it turned out that Jenny and I had just bought a small farm about five miles from where Dom's step-mother and late father lived in Lyme Regis. In the years that followed we were lucky enough to see Dom every few months, either in Lyme or he'd pop over to the farm - I even managed to persuade him to help me with haymaking a couple of times, although I made the mistake of saying something like "give me a hand with the hay and stay with us for a couple of days - all you can eat and drink on us"!

"How to dress for dinner"? Many's the time that Dom rocked up for supper wearing clean(ish) jeans and a T-shirt from some remote bar in a far-flung part of the world, carrying half a dozen bottles of red wine and a sleeping bag. What else do you need?

Dom was a delight to be with, a lovely man, smashing company, and had a great ability to fit in with whoever else was staying with us at the time. We'll miss him loads.

Simon & Jenny Taylor