Good evening colleagues and friends. Your presence here in such numbers is a fine tribute in itself to our beloved Thea. We are not only celebrating a great musician, but saying farewell to a lovely friend. I don't think there can be any of you here who knew Thea who have not some special memories of a kindness, or good advice, or even in some cases of life changing inspiration. I have many examples of all of these memories in a lifetime of friendship and I feel it an enormous privilege that she has asked me to speak to you this evening.

What I wish to talk about are the various aspects of Thea which taken together are a shining example of how to live life as a musician.It is not a biography setting out the enormous achievements of her stellar career. I am assuming that all of you will have read at least one of the four excellent obituarys in the broadsheets, which dealt with that side of her life so well. I want to speak of her as a wonderful friend and colleague.

I first heard Thea when she came as a pianist with her husband to give a recital at my school. Jack Thurston, who was soon to become my inspiration as wind coach of the National Youth Orchestra, always liked to speak to the audience as a way of settling his nerves, and he told us of the problems of playing some of the music. After ending with a Brahms sonata, he told us that he had exaggerated the difficulty of playing the clarinet, and that it was so easy that even his pianist could play it. They then set off at whirlwind speed to play the last movement of the Poulenc sonata for two clarinets, leaving us schoolboys in wide eyed admiration.

It was ten years later, and after entering the musical profession,that I first encountered Thea as a colleague, exactly 50 years ago this year. When I think back on those 50 years, I feel, to quote Thea's favourite phrase, "I am so lucky".

I would like to talk about three aspects of her character that made her so special to me. They are her INTEGRITY, her LOYALTY and her ENTHUSIASM FOR LIFE.

The dictionary defines integrity as having high principles and living by them. I think that she perfectly exemplified this in her life. Approaching a piece of music always involved hours of careful preparation, not only in terms of hours of practice but in her study of the piece as a whole. On a first rehearsal run-through of new or unfamiliar music she always seemed to know what the piece was about. You always felt that she was a musician first and a clarinetist or pianist after.

In her teaching, she insisted on the study of the classics and had little time for empty virtuosity, and she made sure that her students had a firm grounding of technique; she also introduced many students to the best pieces of English music of the 1920s and 30s, which she felt had been forgotten during what I might call the period of Modernism Only which began in the 60s.

In her role as an examiner or jury member she was much in demand, and gave her time, often without payment, generously and unsparingly. She would stand by her principles and sometimes found herself to be the one dissenting voice in a panel. She would hold to those opinions quietly but tenaciously. But If the panel came to what she felt was an unfair decision it would trouble her for weeks.

As a chamber music colleague she preferred to lead by example rather than talking endlessly about the music. When she did speak it was to the point and much respected, and she would always follow her musical instinct rather than rely on the evidence of theory or musicology. But then that instinct was formed by her own hard thinking. She had a quick ear for sorting out publishers' errors in the music, because she always seemed to know what the music was trying to say.

In the early nineteen-sixties she found herself championing the rights of women musicians. Although in the 30s there had been women players of distincton - Pauline Juler and Evelyn Barbirolli, for instance, it was not until World War 2 that they could be found at all frequently in our Symphony Orchestras. After the war the men returned from the forces, and it was once again difficult. So Thea and a group of friends set up the the Portia Ensemble, a group of up to 10 wind players, some of whom are here tonight, playing at a very high standard in a wide ranging repertoire. The many lady wind players now playing in the profession, owe a great debt of gratitude to these and other pioneers such as Olive Wright and Thea's great friend, Janet Craxton. Watching the opening night of the Proms on TV recently, I noted that all 4 bassoonists and the contrabassoonist were female, and I think that Deidre Dundas Grant, ex Portia bassoonist, and her colleagues would agree that that would have seemed pretty unlikely in the early 1960s.

The dictionary definition of integrity also suggests that the personality should be integrated. Thus everyone who knew Thea knew the same Thea, whether they were Royalty, colleagues or the man who came to collect the dustbins. All of us in this hall knew the same Thea because she did not have differing manners for different people.

Moving on to LOYALTY. Her loyalty to friends and family are well known. To us, her performing friends of the many ensembles in which we played together, her home was the natural centre for all our work. The two reception rooms were known as Studio 1 and Studio 2 and there could be two different ensembles rehearsing simultaneously. Wonderful freshly ground coffee and organic biscuits were always on offer. Thea prided herself on the quality of her coffee. It was in fact one of the few things about which she expressed self-pride. Among the swirling eccentric characters who made up our groups, she was our quiet centre, phenomenally gifted, professional and loyal.

Her loyalty to her husband's memory was the reason for many recordings that she made of works that he had championed. She would prefer to spend her money on such projects rather than replacing well loved but also well worn items in her house. Some of the kitchen equipment was beginning to acquire antique status, but she was happy if it just about worked.

At one time she adopted the name Thea Thurston-King to keep his name alive, but dropped the idea after being addressed by an airport official as Mrs. Thurstonking. A few years ago she organised, with Colin Bradbury, a celebration of the life of Jack in this very hall. Some of you will have been there and heard her playing the piano as she accompanied the John Ireland sonata.

To family and friends Milverton Road was open house, she often had people from overseas staying; sometimes for prolonged periods.

Now we come to the third aspect of Thea that I wish to bring out, a wonderful and infectious LOVE OF LIFE.

I think of her as always young in outlook, full of enthusiasm and with a great willingness to learn, a perpetual student. For example she did not return seriously to piano playing without a serious commitment to study, attending Katerina Wolpe's master-classes and Graeme Humphrey's lessons. This came at a time when her deteriorating health began to make clarinet playing a problem, but instead of mourning the loss of the clarinet she told her friends how lucky she was to have the great piano repertoire opening up for her,and she had as much pleasure from rehearsing and performing with her friends of the Lydian Ensemble as she had had from her clarinet playing. She also accompanied students, her own and others, in preparation for their exams, and I had the experience of playing with her, in concerts and also at her home for our own enjoyment.

And whatever she took up was with her whole heart. It was not enough for her to enjoy her talent for drawing and painting. For Thea it had to be Art classes where she would attend as a humble seeker after improvement. Her visits to Morely College became the focus for her artistic expression when even the beloved piano had to be abandoned because of problems with her legs. Again her enthusiasm was unbounded and she would treasure any words of praise from her very respected teacher, Maggie Hambling.

Then there was skiing, which became a regular part of her life from her fifties at an age when most people are thinking of golf and carpet slippers. At first she went to Austria with some of her Portia friends, but later, as well as Europe, she regularly visited Utah, where she was able to combine visits to friends and family in California and also Seattle where she stayed with Mike Rees, who has come so far to be with us this evening. I never knew what standard she reached because of her modest descriptions, but again of course, being Thea, she sought out instruction and I think she was still skiing into her 70s.

The combination of love of art and skiing, with the already mentioned cow theme in her life produced the series of cartoon Christmas cards which many people here may have enjoyed, entitled Moos-Cow-Ski, showing cows skiing in anatomically hilarious postures. The love of cows also combined with her Basset Clarinet, which she referred to as her Long-horn.

I must also mention her enthusiasm for swimming in the sea, entailing visits to her favourite beach, West Wittering, during the summer months. The music festivals at sea, cruising round the Mediterranean with the English Chamber Orchestra were also wonderful opportunities. In fact Paul Barritt was telling me the other day, that he was just about to settle in to an afternoon nap on a sun-lounger, when Thea appeared saying "Come on, there is some sea down there, we have got to swim in it". She seemed younger than any of us.

She loved the theatre, particularly small intimate theatres, such as the Lemon Tree in Richmond, where you almost sit on the stage, and I was lucky enough to be one of the group of friends to join her on these expeditions. She went to great trouble to research the best that was going on in what is a permanent Festival fringe in and round London.

I would like to mention three things that show Thea's very lovable eccentricities;

First the Slug story. Thea loved her large garden, but so unfortunately did great numbers of slugs. She was far too humane to kill them, and far too organically minded to put down pellets, so small quantities of beer would be left out, which attracted them like mad, and she would take the slugs out by night and release them in the cricket ground over the road. I have to point out that she didn't approve much of cricket - one of our few differences - because someone would from time to time send a six over the road and break a window. Anyway, I am convinced that the slugs, following the pattern of the average British male, used to return regularly for more beer. I even suggested tagging them to see if she was constantly dealing with the same characters.

Then there's the naming of her beloved cat; I had always thought that Houkani was named after some Persian deity in honour of one of his many different bloodlines. My friend William Bennett, Wibb to most of you, tells me that when this cat appeared on the doorstep, Thea had said "Who can he be?" and later the "be" was dropped, and he became Houkani. Wibb remembers playing ping pong with Thea with the cat a very active net court judge.

The last little vignette is from near the end of her life, when she had almost recovered from a broken hip. Entering her sitting room with its open French windows she came upon a squirrel enjoying a bar of her favourite organic chocolate. Spying Thea it ran off, still holding the chocolate bar, with seventy nine year old lady in hot pursuit, which lead to another fall and more treatment on the leg. But this is a great example of Thea's refusal to accept the restrictions of health or age.

Gradually as even her art classes became impossible and more and more time had to be spent in hospital, her love of life did not waver.

"I'm so lucky to have wonderful friends", " so lucky to be so well cared for", and even "so lucky to have this exploratory operation, because now we'll know what's wrong".

At the end, when she was finally too weak for phone calls, and when that unbelievable final text saying "no visitors" had come through, I sent a last letter, and perhaps I may quote the last sentence as I think many of us feel the same. Having thanked her for all she had taught me about music and life I wrote, "I will think of you with love till my own last day."

Thank you very much.