Philip Basil Owen: 9.5.1936 – 9.10.2025

Born on 9 May 1936 in St Helens, Lancashire, Philip was the younger child of Kathleen and Cuthbert Owen, and brother to Pat. His father’s career as a bank manager took the family to Romiley, Cheshire, where Philip grew up surrounded by extended family and cousins and attended Manchester Grammar School.

At sixteen, Philip joined the Merchant Navy through Shell Marine, beginning a lifelong career at sea. While working around the world, he earned his Chartered Engineering and Chartered Marine Engineering qualifications and rose to the rank of Chief Engineer on Shell’s crude oil and gas tankers.

In 1967, during a holiday in Tunisia, Philip met Gail Jelley. He later tracked her down to her home in Putney, invited her out for a milkshake—and the rest was history. They married in September 1968 while Philip was still working at sea, based in the south of France. Their daughter Catherine was born in 1970 and son Julian in 1971, and after Philip came ashore in 1973, the young family settled in Kingston, Surrey.

In 1976, Philip accepted a Shell posting in Tokyo to manage a fleet of gas tankers. The family’s three years in Japan proved life-changing—they embraced the culture, explored Japan and the Far East, and made lifelong friends. Philip took his role seriously, learning Japanese to be a better leader and astonishing colleagues with his long speeches in Japanese—complete with jokes. Upon returning to the UK, the family settled in New Malden, Surrey, and Philip continued his career at Shell’s London headquarters. 

The family home was filled with laughter and activity, fueled by one of Dad’s latest projects—whether lighting up the house at Christmas, cooking breakfasts for his children’s friends, building a bathroom in the attic, or restoring an old-fashioned slot machine to working order. Philip loved cooking, once auditioning for MasterChef, experimenting with the latest gadgets, eating sweets, and tackling every DIY project with enthusiasm, if not always finesse. 

He was deeply proud of his children and a steady, supportive father as they built their careers and moved away from London. His letters and emails were full of humour and warmth, and his advice—always thoughtful, calm, and wise—was a source of constant reassurance. 

He was a gifted speaker and storyteller—animated, witty, and blessed with perfect deadpan timing—often ready with a prop, a silly hat, or a brightly patterned shirt to bring his tales to life. A natural entertainer, Philip delighted in celebrating life’s milestones, hosting large, joyful birthday gatherings, dinner and garden parties, always a generous and impeccable host. 

He retired in 1994 as Managing Director, International Marine, after more than forty years of service. Known for his sharp mind, integrity, and kindness, he remained close to many friends and colleagues from his Shell years. In retirement, Philip and Gail pursued their shared love of travel—especially cruising—and spent many happy years exploring all corners of the world with friends and family. 

In his later years, Philip cherished time with his grandchildren—Elizabeth, Isabel, William, and Charlotte—who knew him fondly as “Jagged.” Whether in New Jersey or Yorkshire, he was a devoted and loving presence, happily supervising brownie-making sessions and always being the first to sample the results!

Philip was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s disease in 2015 and faced it with courage and quiet dignity. Gail cared for him at home until 2019, when he moved to Beverley Parklands, where he was lovingly cared for by a wonderful team of staff to whom the family remains deeply grateful.

Philip passed away peacefully on 9 October 2025, aged 89, with Julian by his side. He will be remembered with great love for his warmth, humour, and generous spirit—a life well lived and deeply loved.

In lieu of the service being family flowers only could we kindly ask that you consider making a donations to Alzheimers Research UK which can be done via the link on this page or at the service itself should you be attending.