George Picket died in July 2024 aged 85. A ripe old age, and statistically above average. He was a world-renowned physicist.

I first met George when I was a first year undergraduate student at Lancaster University. I attended supervisions with him, in the company of my fellow student Graeme Plenderleith (we are still friends to this day!).

As you will be able to read from the many entries into the book of condolence, George was an impressive, dynamic and very human character. I think he probably fits this definition of genius:

“Someone possessing extraordinary intelligence or skill; especially somebody who has demonstrated this by a creative or original work in science, music, art etc.”

He certainly took no prisoners with his students. I remember the first session we had with him. His room was a chaotic mess of papers and books, and after we’d found ourselves somewhere to sit he asked us questions about the physics we were studying. When I responded to one of his questions with a timid (and wholly inadequate) response, his retort was “like fuck it is”.

I was fairly shocked by that – but George went on to kindly explain to both me and Graeme the basis of our misunderstanding. During the course of that year, he systematically helped break down and rebuild our understanding of the basics of physics, and did so in a way that was somehow warm and patient, even as it was highly intolerant of any lack of intellectual rigour.

When I returned to Lancaster in the 2000’s it was as a post-doc, working in the low-temperature laboratory where George was still very active. It was there that I got interested in his ability to produce incredible graphics to help elucidate the most complex physics properties at low temperatures in ways that were easy to interpret.

My interest in the design side was almost as great as my interest in physics, and when I left the lab to begin a career in renewable energy, I continued to tinker with graphic design. Without access to the adobe software packages, I eventually stumbled upon Inkscape, an open source alternative. And so began my love affair with open source software, a passion which continues today.

I attended the funeral on 12 August 2024 remotely. Given his international notoriety in academia I suspect that the online audience was many multiples of the ‘in person’ attendees.

There were many details about his life recounted by family members that helped fill in the parts that would have likely been uninteresting to me as a teenager, but which now add the richness and colour that bring wonder to our lives. I was also extremely touched by the eulogies, including an emotional tribute one by my ex-colleague, Richard Haley. 

I wept during the funeral, and I have continued to think a lot about George in the days since. He was certainly influential on me, but I can’t attribute my sadness solely to his passing (no offence, George!). He was a thoughtful, outspoken, funny and kind man. Like thousands of others who die every day. His life touched mine in a small but significant way. I think my sadness is at least a reflection of mortality in general, and that of me and the people I care about in particular.

I turned 50 this year. After the briefest of skinny-dips in the Gower to celebrate, I put my arm around my twin brother, and said that although we wouldn’t see another 50 together I was so very proud and happy to have spent the first 50 in his company.

I think that my sadness that George has died is a sadness for almost everybody that has been a part of my life, and that I will miss when they’re gone. People in Lancaster, Machynlleth, Bristol, Northumberland and Denmark. People who aren’t close family, that it’s not practical to see often or even regularly, but that gave my life meaning and love.

My parents’ generation is now becoming elderly. It feels as though there’s a slow-motion passing of the baton going on. I was nearly the same age now, as George was when we first met. In the way that George helped me as that first year student, I think it’s my duty now to help young people through the challenges they face, and to try to advance sustainability to the best of my ability through the rest of my career. Yes, and to have fun, lots of it. Whatever else George was; father, husband, genius physicist, grandfather, he was a funny, lovely guy. 

I was not George’s friend but I miss him, and I miss what he represented. George, your legacy will continue to inspire me for years to come.

In this age of the hyper-now, of social media, celebrity and status, of notifications and updates; his passing is a reminder that life is not about how we present ourselves to the world, but how we can use our talents and kindness to make it a better place.