Sunday 31st May 2026
It is inevitable as we get older that others around us, particularly the elderly but not always so, are suddenly taken from us – what I call being “zapped back by the universe”. The death of someone is always a great loss, and I don’t know about you, but for me there are certain deceased people who are constantly in my thoughts, not necessarily for anything spectacular they did, but just for being who they were.
One such person was Richard Dombkowski, of Warminster. His younger brother, Nick, reminded me this morning that today marks the third anniversary of Richard’s passing. Three years! Where does all the time quickly go?
Richard died at Salisbury District Hospital on Wednesday 31st May 2023. He was 68. A former pupil of Kingdown School, Richard had served in the Army and had several sources of employment over the years, latterly gardening and helping out in charity shops.
Richard was a big contributor to dannyhowell.net for many years, not only sharing old photographs but composing poems and song lyrics. He took his inspiration from John Lennon. Richard seemed to be always writing things down. He was a philosopher. He always seemed to be trying to fathom things out and wanted to have deep discussions. Richard would randomly turn up at my place, sometimes to show me his writing, sometimes to just chat about important things or nothing in particular, and sometimes for no reason at all.
Richard’s verses could be whimsical (for example “Cat Girl Nancy” about Nancy Rivers who lived at The Dene – she loved it when it was published) or serious (the loss of Home Farm fields to development) and sometimes Richard could be very sensitive to sad situations (when my partner died Richard wrote a poem about her just for me – that was his unique way of expressing sorrow and helping with grief). And Richard absolutely adored his father Bruno and wrote many wonderful words about him too.
Just now I mentioned that Richard would share old photographs. One stands out in particular – a photo he described as “The tranquil and beautiful Battlesbury and Little Me.” It was/is a photo of Richard taken by his father in the 1950s. Richard said: “The little chap in the picture is me. I seem to be balancing pretty well for the pose, on my one leg [joke]. I haven’t a clue what happened to the other one. I’m okay now, I have found both legs to walk around on, but it must have been very difficult for me as a young lad, hopping around while everybody else walked normally! Battlesbury Hill, in the background hasn’t changed much. I wish I could say the same for little me in the picture!”
For our joint amusement I took Richard back to the same spot on Wednesday 26th June 2013 ~ some 56 years on, to take a photo of Richard again. Richard was most willing to do this and I know he enjoyed reminiscing as we re-staged our very amateur photo shoot.
The location is near Big Gates, just north of Home Farm, Boreham. Temple’s Plantation (Primrose Wood) is right of the road (Morgan’s Drove Lane) in the picture. The field immediately behind Richard is the Camp Ground which is part of Boreham Farm (once farmed by Tom Bazley, who was the employer of Richard’s father Bruno for many years). The Camp Ground is currently farmed by Gore Cross Farms.
Battlesbury Hill in the background, as Richard says, doesn’t seem to have changed much at all, but there is one major difference, and that is in regard to Battlesbury Wood on the south-facing front of the hill. Up until 1964 (during the time when the first picture was taken (1957), Battlesbury Wood was deciduous, with some chestnuts, ashes, elms, and plenty of box bushes. Just about all of the deciduous trees were felled in 1964 and the wood was replanted by the MOD with mostly firs, which make up the scene today, although one or two of the chestnuts, plenty of beech, and a lot of the box bushes can still be seen today.
As a tribute to Richard and for the benefit of his family and all who knew him, I attach here the two photos of Richard – 1957 and 2013 – side by side. I’m sure there will be many friends and acquaintances out there who will have fond memories and personal anecdotes about Richard. I know I am lucky to have known him. There was something truly special about the way Richard was.