My father, Trevor Simmonds, who has died aged 92, spent his entire working life in education. He started out teaching in schools in Aberdeen before an overseas posting to the British School in Montevideo, the capital of Uruguay, in 1960. Upon his return to Britain three years later he was asked to set up a course in teaching English as a foreign language for Trinity College London at the newly opened College of Commerce in Aberdeen, and continued to teach there until his retirement in 1989.
Trevor was born in London, the elder child of Arthur, a customs officer, and Florence (nee Root). He was named Trevor after the commanding officer at Chatham Naval Dockyard during the first world war who had refused to let Arthur’s father, William, head cook at the facility, be transferred out to HMS Indefatigable, which was sunk soon after at the Battle of Jutland.
The family moved in 1940 to Aberdeen, where Trevor attended Robert Gordon’s school, and became the first member of his family to go to university – at Aberdeen, where he studied English. He met his future wife, Irene Mitchell, while they were both teachers at Ruthrieston secondary school and they married in 1959.
During the 1950s Trevor was involved with the local Carden Players as an actor and producer, and won the Scottish Shield for Best Production three years running. He was also an avid and knowledgable supporter of classical music, ballet, opera and theatre – particularly the works of William Shakespeare – and was for many years president of the Aberdeen Shakespeare Society.
Upon retiring from teaching, he worked until 2001 as an examiner for Trinity College London, a move that took him as far afield as Sri Lanka. A lifelong international traveller, Trevor reckoned that when he and Irene went to Cuba for his 80th birthday that it was the 70th country he had visited.
His most exciting adventure came, however, in South America, where he and Irene found themselves trapped in Paraguay during flash floods and had to seek refuge in a cockroach-infested loft of a house owned by a woman from Watford. The following day, arrangements were made for them to travel on to the capital, Asunción, with another couple, a doctor and his wife.
On the way they discovered a bridge had been washed away and they found themselves being approached by fierce-looking natives armed with machetes. Fortunately the doctor’s wife could speak Guarani, the language of the natives, and they set about cutting down foliage to make a temporary crossing to allow the intrepid travellers to continue their journey.
As an avid letter writer to the Aberdeen Press & Journal, Trevor covered many topics from politics to football, with many irreverences in between.
He is survived by Irene and their two sons, my brother, Nick, and me.
