Remembering Dr Peter Clay (1934-2026)

This obituary pays tribute to Dr Peter Clay, a former member of staff in the Department of Chemical Engineering, Imperial College London.

By Jeremy Clay (son of Dr Peter Clay).

A stalwart of Imperial College London fondly described as “a gentle, learned man with a giving, kind heart” has died, aged 92.

Former colleagues and students have paid warm respects to Dr Peter Clay, a genial Geordie with a love of unspoilt pubs and a keen interest in aviation and military history, who devoted more than three decades of his working life to the Department of Chemical Engineering.   

I personally remember Peter as a caring teacher, a supportive colleague, and, above all, a truly kind person. Professor Omar Matar Head of Department, Chemical Engineering

The tributes were led by Professor Omar Matar, Head of the Department of Chemical Engineering. He said: “I personally remember Peter as a caring teacher, a supportive colleague, and, above all, a truly kind person. He touched the lives of so many through his generosity, wisdom and unwavering positivity. His legacy lives on in the colleagues he inspired and the countless students who benefited from his exceptional teaching and experience.”

Brian Bennett, who joined Imperial’s Nuclear Technology group as scientific officer in 1965 and worked with Peter for more than 30 years, called him “one of the most affable academics, dedicated to his students, always patient and encouraging.”

Emeritus Professor of Chemical Engineering Stephen Richardson said: “Peter, like his colleague Mike Carabine, was one of the old school of totally dedicated academic staff who could always be relied upon. They were never flashy - they just got on with things and did them really well.”

Peter, like his colleague Mike Carabine, was one of the old school of totally dedicated academic staff. Professor Stephen Richardson Emeritus Professor

Peter Gillis Clay was born in 1934, one of the six children of Mary (nee Clazie), a housewife, and Bob, a merchant seaman. His lifelong fascination with science began with childhood experiments conducted on the kitchen table at home in North Shields, using chemicals bought with his pocket money from the local pharmacy. After excelling at Tynemouth High School, Peter studied at King’s College, University of Durham, which later became Newcastle University. He graduated with a first-class Chemistry degree and continued at King’s as a postgraduate. His PhD – titled Action of ionising radiations on ethylene and acetylene in aqueous systems – was supervised by pioneering radiation chemist Professor Joseph Weiss, who had been an assistant to the Nobel Prize-winning scientist Fritz Haber. His viva was heard in 1959 by Professor Frederick Dainton, later Baron Dainton.  

Peter left Tyneside in 1963 to join Imperial’s Chemical Engineering department, which was then led by Professor Paul Ubbelohde. The new job suited him: he stayed put for 36 years.  His research interests include radiation chemistry of aqueous solutions, and he was a linchpin of the department’s Nuclear Technology group, taking the role of Departmental Radiation Officer, with responsibility for Imperial’s cobalt source.

Aside from his lecturing and supervision duties, he was the department’s admissions officer and careers adviser. He was also a friend to newcomers to the department, introducing them to unofficial annexes of Imperial like the Harrington, The Queen’s and the Anglesea Arms.

He showed me an immense kindness which I later observed he extended to all. Sir Professor William Wakeham Former Head of Department, Chemical Engineering

Professor Sir William Wakeham, later Head of the Chemical Engineering Department and then Deputy Rector, joined Imperial in 1971, and credits Peter with smoothing his path into life in South Kensington. “He showed me an immense kindness which I later observed he extended to all, most especially to the undergraduate students for whom he was a rock of stability and an advocate to the department on their behalf,” he said.

“He was also a gentle but forceful voice who spoke honestly to power. When I became Head of Department, he was always willing to offer advice and an honest assessment of any developments planned or unplanned.  I really valued his very considerable contributions to the Department.”

Geoffrey Maitland, now Professor of Energy Engineering at Imperial, tells a similar story. “He was already a well-established member of the academic staff here when I arrived as a young lecturer in 1974,” he said, “and I remember how welcoming and helpful he was as I learned the ropes and how to operate in the department run by the formidable Professor Ubbelohde!

“I remember his ability to ask the questions others dared not ask about why we did things in a certain way. We ran several student projects together and he was a pleasure to work with. He was very supportive of students, with his door always open.”    

I remember his ability to ask the questions others dared not ask about why we did things in a certain way. Professor Geoffrey Maitland Academic, Department of Chemical Engineering

Peter, who published as PG Clay, wore his knowledge lightly, and took people precisely as he found them. He was quite possibly the only member of the Royal Society of Chemistry and Shiremoor Working Men’s Club in Earsdon, a former coal-mining village in Northumberland. His career spanned an era before league tables, the NSS, the PRES and repeated appeals for student feedback, but had he taught in the age of surveys, it’s fair to imagine he would have had glowing reports. He forged long-lasting bonds with his postgraduates. Even in retirement, the phone would ring in the family home as a former student he’d supervised decades earlier called for a periodic catch-up.

“He was one of the most lovely people I have ever met,” said Dr Denis Buckley, who studied at Imperial for an MSc and PhD from 1979-1984. “He was my tutor, supervisor and mentor and looked after this somewhat clumsy student, me. He was very avuncular and all the undergrads and post grads loved his company and likewise he loved the students. It was what he was: a gentle, learned man with a giving, kind heart.”

Dr Bahram Ghiassee, a London-based nuclear analyst who studied for his MSc from 1973-1974 and for his PhD from 1975-1979, called Peter a “uniquely beautiful person” who was “alien with the notion of self-interest.” He said: “I revered and respected Peter and learned a great deal from him, both academically, and how to be a conscientious and caring human being. I was so privileged to know Peter for more than five decades, and to benefit from his support and wisdom.”

Away from campus, Peter had an enduring enthusiasm for aviation and an encyclopaedic knowledge of both world wars. He was the nephew of an RAF Dambuster and joined the Air Training Corps in Tynemouth at the age of 13. He flew Chipmunks while in Durham University Air Squadron, where he was a Royal Air Force Officer Cadet. For a while, he was Commanding Officer of Tynemouth ATC and also sported a luxuriant handlebar moustache. Though he transferred to the Barnes Squadron when he moved down to London to work at Imperial, the moustache didn’t make the journey south. The following year, he married Sybil (nee Harvey). The newlyweds – who had known each other since they were teenagers in North Shields - planned to spend their honeymoon walking the First World War battlefields, but ended up staying in Paris after the airline lost their luggage.

He would have seen the funny side. Peter’s analytical mind was complemented by a wry sense of humour. “He taught me Inorganic Chemistry in my first-year,” recalled Prof Richardson, “and he liked to give demonstrations to enliven otherwise rather dry material - not his fault. One involved what should have been a spectacular colour change from yellow to blue, as I recall. In fact, the result was a muddy brown. Peter immediately said, in his best north-eastern accent, ‘as the more astute members of the audience will have observed, the solution is now bright blue’.” When the prog-rock group Van der Graaf Generator played a gig at Imperial College’s student union, he sent them a note to point out they’d misspelt their name. They didn’t reply.  

Dr Clay left Imperial in 1999, after staying on beyond his 65^th birthday to help usher in the new academic year. A loving husband, dad and grandpa, he settled into a quietly contented retirement, sprinkled at first with carefree trips to France. In 2004, Peter and Sybil headed north once more, moving to Beverley, in East Yorkshire, close to their elder son Nick and his family, with plenty of new pubs for Peter to discover and adopt.

Though his physical realm contracted in his later years, Peter’s interest in the wider world remained undimmed. Sharp to the very last, he kept a keen eye on scientific developments, current affairs and the fortunes of Imperial College, as well as the comings and goings of wildlife in his back garden. And life still offered up unexpected amusements. Last year, his granddaughter Emily nominated him as Britain’s Kindest Man in a tongue-in-cheek poll by the podcast Top Flight Time Machine. ‘Emily’s Grandpa’ received 43% of the public vote, finishing ahead of Paul McCartney and Michael Palin.      

Following a short illness, Peter died on July 12, 2026, in a house filled with books about chemistry, Northumberland, pubs and the RAF. Just a few days earlier, he had received a certificate from the Royal Society of Chemistry marking his 70 years of membership.

He is survived by Sybil, his sons and daughters-in-law, and by four grandchildren who all inherited his dry wit.  

A staunch avoider of fuss, he would have disputed the need for this obituary.