The Old Ruymians' Club were sad to hear of the recent death of Colin Whitaker, known best for his work with the discovery of BSE or "Mad Cow Disease". We offer our sincere condolences to his family and friends at this sad time. We hope that you will take the time to read his Obituary, written by his son Ian; and also read Ian's Eulogy to his father which he kindly sent to us to share.
Tribute to Colin James Whitaker
Colin James Whitaker was born in Bromley on the 19th of June 1941 to parents Chris and Doris. He had 2 sisters; Ruth and Doreen. He was raised and he lived in Kent all his life. When young he narrowly missing being bombed by the Germans, as a bomb landed in the back garden of the family home; but luckily didn’t go off. His family was made of stern stuff, as his mother ran back into the house to rescue a pie. Growing up he was always surrounded by women, so he would escape to the woods with his mates to play, getting up to mischief.
For example, there was the time when he and his friends fashioned a homemade spear. Then they would take it in turns to hide behind a tree as the spear was thrown at them. They would then appear from behind the tree, pull the spear from the trunk of the tree and throw it at the next person. Unfortunately, one lad was a bit wider than the tree and the spear went right through his leg.
After going to Primary school locally, he had his secondary education at Chatham House Grammar School in Ramsgate. After this he began his training to be a vet and qualified as a Veterinary Surgeon from The Royal Veterinary College in London, in July 1965. From here he went straight into a Practice in Ashford, where he focused mainly on dairy and beef cattle. Colin stayed at the same practice for the rest of his working life, until he retired in 2001.
1965 was an important year for Colin, as along with finishing his veterinary training, that was the year he got married to Jenny.
They first met when he and some mates gate-crashed her New Year’s Eve party. Apparently, he got Jenny’s 14-year-old brother on his side by getting him really drunk at the party, and then later got Jenny’s dad on his side by correctly telling him the 6 winners at the Epsom Derby. He and Jenny got married on the 6th of November of that year.
They went on to have two sons, Michael and lan, though sadly Michael died in 1990 aged just 21. When their grandsons Harry and Thomas came along, it went a long way to helping them in their healing process.
In his work life, Colin’s main claim to fame was that he was the first person to recognise a new disease in the cows he was treating; Bovine Spongiform Encephalopathy, or BSE as it became widely known.
Colin was invited to present his experiences of some of the earliest cases of BSE to a British Cattle Veterinary Association meeting in 1987 and he was subsequently elected to the Council, serving as president from 1995 to 96. In 2013 he was recognised through the award of an Honorary Fellowship for his contribution to the public good through his work on BSE.
He always loved France, and he and Jenny used to go there often and one of his great pleasures in retirement was to go on a day trip to Calais, so that they could sit and eat at his favourite restaurant there.
He was also one of those people who liked to get involved in his local community. He helped with caring for the animals in the local zoo, the local history society, the village museum, and volunteering to help with ‘Wings and Things’ a local village Air show.
His wife Jenny died on the 27th November 2023 and Colin struggled after that.
Colin passed away from a heart attack on Thursday 6th Match at 1.05 am whilst returning from a black-tie event for a veterinary reunion at Sadlers’ Hall in London.
He died quietly in his sleep on the train having just seen some of his old pals and with a tummy full of good wine and good food.
Obituary by Ian Whitaker, Colin’s son, March 2025.
Ian Whitaker’s Eulogy for his father, Colin Whitaker.
Thank you all so much for joining me and the family today to celebrate and remember the life of Colin Whitaker, my dad.
I am humbled by the number of people that have come today, and also for the hundreds of emails, phone calls and letters showing so much love and respect for Dad, thank you, it has been a huge comfort for all of us. Dad would have loved all this fuss so much.
And boy; what a way to go! Dad was on the way back from a veterinary reunion dinner at Sadlers’ Hall, London, with many of his old pals; dressed in a full tuxedo, with a tummy fully of good food and wine, and he died quietly from a heart attack, in his sleep on the train on the way home.. What a brilliant way to go.
As a family though, we just weren’t ready yet. We had so much planned for this year including a trip to Twickenham, a visit to ours in the summer and Dad was even planning on visiting his best friend Terry in Canada.
I also have to admit that we didn’t expect to be here quite so soon after the passing of mum, but here we are.
When I got married I recall my stag do: Dad came along as apparently the ‘responsible adult’ to make sure my friends didn’t strip me naked and tie me to the railings outside a police station. Well he succeeded in that, but Dad did help in getting me so extraordinarily drunk that I remember throwing my arms around him and saying , “you’re my hero you are” followed by “I flippin’ love you”.
According to dad, days later, I said the same thing that night to several random strangers and a lamppost; but I am certain Dad was winding me up. Even though those words were spoken under the influence of an obscene amount of alcohol, dad truly was my hero growing up.
What other dad would give an 8-year-old Cub Scout a recently deceased lamb to take to a Scout meeting so I could perform an autopsy in front the other horrified cubs! (Not a normal childhood growing up!)
I should point out for the those that didn’t know my dad well, he was a vet; not some chap that randomly gave his child roadkill!
Growing up, it was always my dad who had the coolest job. Being a farm vet he was always doing something interesting which usually involved his hands and long gloves!! I used to go with him to farms and watch him carry out all sorts of procedures on animals. All very cool stuff for a young boy to watch. Thanks to dad, by the age of 5, I probably had had my arm inside more animaIs than a taxidermist…
Dad was much loved as a vet, by staff and by his clients. He was old school; with James Herriot qualities of warmth and humour and a love for his job that I have always envied.
And then in 1985 he found fame, discovering BSE (mad cow disease) and becoming something of an expert on it. He regularly appeared on television, in newspapers and on the radio and gave evidence as part of the government’s inquiry. He even recently appeared on a radio 4 podcast called ‘The Cows are Mad’, which made us chuckle as dad had no idea what a podcast was.
In 2013 Dad received an honorary Fellowship from the Royal College Veterinary Surgeons for his work on BSE. In 2015 he was awarded an honorary RVC degree.
He was very proud of his work and rightly so.
BUT he did often let people know! Because as we know, he liked to talk. He would start so many conversations with, ”I was a vet you know”, as he believed that would give him the leverage to receive preferential treatment; particularly at the doctor’s (whom he affectionately called, failed vets). Apologies if there are doctors in the house!
More recently, Dad went on a whale watching cruise and genuinely believed that the invitation to the captain’s dinner was exclusively for him because of his standing and fame. He was so disappointed that everyone on the cruise gets an invite , that we don’t think he actually went to the dinner at all.
Dad’s job was his happy place and he always found comfort doing what he loved as was evident when he continued to go to work the day after the loss of his son, my brother Michael, back in 1990. He used his work as a mechanism to cope with the grief we were all feeling at the time.
Mum never understood that, but dad taught me a valuable lesson that I still strongly believe now that everyone deals with grief in different ways. And which-ever way you choose is okay. Grief changes shape, but it never ends. Who would think you could quote Keanu Reeves at a eulogy!
The birth of their grandchildren Harry and Thomas helped them both enormously with heir recovery and their new happy place was being around them and listening to their stories and watch them get up to mischief. They were allowed to get away with so much more than I was as a child. Although I don’t think they ever blew anything of mum’s and dad’s up; but that’s a story for another time.
Some years ago, when mum developed COPD and started to show signs of dementia, dad suddenly became a full-time carer. He would cook, clean, do the laundry, bathe mum, dress mum and generally look after her . This was completely alien to dad as his ‘go-to’ for any ailment was to put on a long glove… Not this time, thankfully; and he did an amazing job.
Dad put his own health on hold in order to care for mum. Dad’s back was agony most of the time. He developed diabetes and high cholesterol; his blood pressure was through the roof and to top it all off, he was deaf as a post.
Although he could hear the lid of the biscuit tin being opened at 100 paces.
Then, on the 27th November 2023 dad’s world collapsed once again, when mum passed away in hospital.
Harry and Thomas were so important to him in that healing process. He was so incredibly proud of them both; and neither Dad, or I, could have got through it as well as we did without Lisa, my beautiful, amazing wife.
After mum died, I would phone dad every day to check on him and when I asked him how he was, he would always respond with “I’m still here”…
I think at times Dad got a little fed up with the daily calls as he worried he wouldn’t have anything to tell me. Not so.
Having nothing to say wasn’t something dad suffered from; so it didn’t stop him talking for 20 minutes, without taking a breath, about the weather, feeding the birds only for the local squirrels, pigeons and rats to come along and eat it all. Or the diet he was supposed to be on (Dad, I would say, it doesn’t matter how much lemon juice you put on your fish and chips, that doesn’t count as healthy eating)
There was always something comforting listening to dad repeat the same stories and grumble about the same things. I already miss that so much.
Life became additionally difficult when, following a series of car accidents, all of which were clearly his fault, he decided he should give up his car and driving license. It turns out that everyone he crashed into he actually knew, which was nice. Some of whom are probably here today.
I remember being in the car with him on the bypass, travelling at 70mph in 3rd gear. Because he was deaf he couldn’t hear the engine screaming. We reached a roundabout he slowed down, but changed up a gear into 4th and then kangaroo-hopped round it to the sound of car horns from other drivers and expletives from me. Terrifying!
It was a bus pass for him from that point on. He really adapted so well to all the trials and hurt that he faced and was so incredibly stoic. Latterly I did have to keep reminding myself that Dad was an old man, and I shouldn’t get frustrated with him because he didn’t listen. And that I shouldn’t get frustrated with his ‘old school’ attitude.
I shouldn’t get frustrated that he didn’t action things that I suggested to help him.
And I shouldn’t get frustrated with him because he didn’t want to make decisions without procrastinating for weeks.
I would give anything to be frustrated with him again, even for just a few minutes.
For all his foibles and annoying habits, he was a kind, gentle, very funny, very intelligent man.
He was many things, a father, a son, a husband, a brother, a grandpa and a friend.
And best of all, he was my dad.
I will miss not having our daily chats, listening to him grumble about the world, discussing politics over a glass of wine, sharing a love of nature, or listening to him talk with so much pride about his grandchildren. .
Dad, If I can be half the man you were, I'll be twice the man I ever thought I could be.
Give Mum and Mike a big hug for me.
Sleep well. I love you Dad.