If you’re on this page, you probably knew Dominic. In which case, you were lucky. He was a kind, funny and generous man who loved nothing more than spending time with the many people he loved (ideally with a glass of wine in one hand, and a pack of cards, set of boules, or cup of Perudo dice in the other).
 
Dominic was lucky too. He met Bridget on his 24th birthday and they stayed together for 61 years. One of the last things he said before he died was how fortunate he’d been to marry her, how incredibly she’d looked after him when he was ill, and how much he loved her.
 
Dominic and Bridget had three sons. James, Simon and John enjoyed a ridiculously happy childhood, exploring bear-traps in Canada, rockpools in France and the forbidden corridors of Merton College. The last, of course, a place that played a huge role in Dominic’s life.
 
He’d grown up in Port Talbot with his parents Tess and Jim, brother Dave and sisters Mary and Teresa, along with a large but close network of grandparents, aunts and uncles, who all loved and looked out for each other. As a child he soon developed a talent and passion for both rugby and maths. He narrowly missed out on making the Wales Under-18 XV, mainly because, as he’d frequently complain, he’d been born on 29th August rather than September 1st. But rugby’s loss was the maths’s world’s gain.
 
Dominic was the first person from his school to be accepted into Oxford.  He arrived at Merton in 1957, and clearly liked what he found. After graduation he was a awarded a Fulbright Scholarship, working with Bell Labs in New Jersey, before returning to Merton as a tutor, fellow and professor. Over the next forty years, he inspired hundreds, if not thousands, of students and wrote books on, among other subjects, probability, matroids, codes and cryptography.
 
Many of his colleagues and students went on to be lifelong friends. Dominic and Bridget would host long laughter-filled Sunday lunches, first at their college home in Kybald Street then later in Rose Lane, where future mathematical geniuses would sit side by side with a trio of grubby-faced mischievous kids.
 
They were happy times, but no life is without pain. And in 1990, Dominic and Bridget suffered the worst pain imaginable, when their beloved eighteen-year-old son, John, died while travelling in Australia. No one ever fully recovers from the loss of a child, but eventually Dominic and Bridget somehow found the strength to keep on living, loving and laughing.
 
Maybe the travel helped. In their course of their marriage, Dominic’s work took him to the USA, Canada, Spain, New Zealand and Germany - he and Bridget making new friends along the way. In 2006 Dominic was awarded an honorary doctorate from the University of Waterloo.
 
By then he was already a grandfather. Zoe, Austin and Felix are all in their twenties now, while Jack, though only seven, is already showing some of his grandfather’s prowess at rugby. They all adored their grandfather and were enthralled by his legendary (in his own family at least) storytelling skills. As kids, they’d clamber up on his lap and sit there gripped by thrilling if somewhat terrifying tales of mafia dons and murder, each story punctuated by their grandpa’s expansive hand gestures and expressive bushy eyebrows.
 
All of the grandchildren were with him in hospital the week that he died, as were his daughters-in-law Marta and Anika. Zoe, Austin and Felix were at his bedside when he finally slipped away, along with James, Simon and of course, Bridget, who had spent the last four nights sleeping by his side.
 
Dominic will be greatly missed. But we should also celebrate a long life, well-lived. It’s been a great comfort to the family to receive messages of love and condolences from so many of his friends and family all over the world. Thank you for joining us in keeping Dominic alive in your hearts.