The Rt Revd Stephen Platten writes:
IN MOST households, “Ovaltine” would refer to a malted drink that helped you off to sleep. In Irvine Watson’s parlance, it meant something distilled north of the border, and was normally supplied at his home with enough generosity to have a similar effect.
Irvine, who died at the end of April, was a marvellous host. He was a man of broad interests and generous heart, and, after any telephone conversation with him, you always felt better. Irvine was for more than 30 years with the British Council, and for two-thirds of that time he was the Secretary, in effect the Chief Executive. He retired in 1978, and gave at least as much in retirement to the wider world as he did when still working.
He was a great churchman. Baptised at York Minister six weeks after his birth in 1918, he gave an enormous amount of energy, knowledge, and expertise to the Minster throughout his life. He was the first Chairman of its Fabric Advisory Committee, and also chaired York’s Diocesan Advisory Committee for the Care of Churches. He had known personally every Dean from Foxley Norris onwards. Similarly he had also known every Archbishop from William Temple to John Sentamu.
Irvine had a great commitment to ecumenism. He was a member of the committee of the Nikaean Club, helping to organise the York Dinner, and thus entertain non-Anglican guests on behalf of the Archbishop of Canterbury. His enthusiasm for the York-Malines link was legend. The link had begun with the Malines Conversations back in the 1920s, and, through his friendship with successive Earls of Halifax, he had helped strengthen the ecumenical links between England and Belgium, and most notably in York.
Irvine had the most amazing gift for friendship. Until just four or five years ago, during the General Synod week in York, his house in Fulford would host gatherings over “Ovaltine” on most evenings. Through this, his contacts, throughout the Church of England and beyond, were remarkably broad. On many occasions, Irvine would put people in touch with each other, and further the cause of friendship and constructive dialogue, within and beyond the C of E.
In everything that he did, there was a great precision, and all who knew him would remember best of all his frequent observation on poor work: “It won’t do. . .” Somehow, however, despite this focus on accuracy and rigour, Irvine was capable of sustaining all his friendships: his warmth and generosity of personality meant that one could never remember a harsh word.
Irvine was educated at Aysgarth School, which he supported throughout his life. From there, he went on to Winchester, and then Christ Church. His degree was interrupted by his being called to serve in the Royal Artillery during the Second World War. He returned for a term to receive his MA, and, after a couple of years working for the railways in Ilkley, he began with the British Council.
Irvine’s legacy will live on through the variety and number of relationships that he helped prosper. He came from a family where longevity was an inherited trait. His grandfather had been born before the Battle of Waterloo, and his own father, a senior director in the North Eastern Railway, was born in the 1860s. The signatures of all the railway grandees of the time were in the family visitors’ book. Irvine himself lived to the grand age of 97, and it is hard to believe that one will not bump into him somewhere in York still.
