Andrew Fuller first home in the 800m "Peter Saunders Race for the Jock Fee cup"

Jock, a wee, tough Glaswegian on the outside but with the softest and grandest heart of gold on the inside. He would brook no nonsense from anyone during the summer bathing season, ensuring the public could safely and happily enjoy the magnificent facility that is the Serpentine Lido.

After our winter races we would be met by Jock with a tray of piping hot Bovril, unless you had the temerity and the nerve to ask for tea or coffee. During weekdays swimmers would also be met with their favourite hot beverage and be regaled by Jock with the latest gossip.  In the winter season, when we had what is now almost half the restaurant area as our changing room Jock had his "private" room-come-kitchen at the back of the pavilion  Here you might find a police officer with a cup of tea hiding away from superiors whilst mugging up for sergeants exams or perhaps one or two Royal Parks gardeners and litter pickers stopping by for tea and biscuits.  Jock would often have Polish Stan Zoladz in this inner sanctum over tea and a cream cake.  Stan's wife worked at the Harrods' gateaux counter and in those days at shop closing staff were allowed to take surplus cakes home. 

After Jock's death in Autumn 1983 a race and cup in his memory was introduced the following year, sponsored by his friend and work colleague Peter Saunders.  When Peter died in 2009 the race was formally titled on the fixture card as "The Peter Saunders race for the Jock Fee cup".

Peter Saunders worked at the Lido to Jock in the 1970s and 80s. They were great friends.  When the Lido went out to a commercial franchise Peter remained working for The Royal Parks as a gardener, conveniently based at the Lido to open up for us early in the morning throughout the year. Even after retirement Peter continued to unlock the gates for early morning swimmers (including himself, of course).

Appointed when the Lansbury Lido opened in 1930, ex Royal Marine Ted was later awarded the OBE for services to his beloved Hyde Park and the Lido.

In Ted Stoter's diary there were several references to wartime activity in Hyde Park. Sadly the diaries have not survived, but Alan Titmuss and Doug Smith did capture second and third hand records some of Ted’s more memorable entries.

In 1941 Ted noted that a large German bomb landed on the island reducing it greatly in size. Another fell at the western end between the bridge and pavilion.  Fortunately no damage was done, but it did kill hundreds of fish.  These were collected in baskets and boiled down to feed the Hyde Park pigs (there was a war on).

Silver barrage balloons were erected in the Park and close to the old Lido entrance air raid shelters were built. Whilst all this was happening the Park "kept calm and carried on" and in true British fashion the Serpentine was restocked with some 1,600 fish from the River Kennet, plus also some Scottish Trout. On 14 June 1942, the Royal Parks Office issued the first permits which allowed fishing between the bathing area and the southeast corner, as it is today. Fly fishing was not allowed as it was considered too dangerous to spectators. The fishing was free, but undersized fish had to be returned to the water.  The first fish caught was a silver eel. "During those war years, with ration books and all, the thought of some nice jellied eel's must have been very tempting to a cockney fisherman" wrote Alan Titmuss.

In 1939 the Park's nurseries had covered about three acres of glasshouses.  Situated behind the 'Bird Sanctuary', it supplied plants and flowers to Kensington and Buckingham Palaces, the Houses of Parliament, and 10 Downing Street. To help the war effort, it was given over to growing tomatoes and 12.5 tons were grown in one year alone. In 1944, a bomb fell on the nursery and destroyed the lot. Ted Stoter, who was on fire duty that night, recalled that it was a sight he would never forget. Fortunately nobody was hurt, but broken glass and tons of tomatoes were splattered everywhere. Tomatoes were not the only produce of the Park, sheep grazed peacefully in what had become pastures.

On the 24th. August 1944, at 7.20 a.m. a  flying bomb or 'doodle bug' as they were know dropped about 50 yards from the entrance to the Lido, breaking every window and literally raising the roof of the pavilion by three inches.  With some clever workmanship, it was somehow put back without taking the roof off.   It was a lovely Sunday in summer and so with the help of a few policeman, staff and bathers they set to work and by 2.00 pm the Lido was open with bathers piling through the gates to enjoy the sunshine and swimming. The only person injured was an attendant who went through a door and cut his head when a window dropped on him! If the bomb had dropped five hours later there is no doubt thousands may have died or been injured that day.