Dr Philip Cleland, brother of the late Geoffrey Cleland (Cheltondale, 1957), died on 16 January 2026, aged 82. The following tribute has been provided by Philip’s family.

Cheltenham College was hugely significant for my father – and his brother Geoffrey – playing a hugely influential role in his life. 

Following the death of their father (Group Captain, RAF) as a result of the war, and ongoing illness of their mother, the RAF Benevolent Fund stepped in to pay for them both to board at Cheltenham College, giving them the stability, as well as the education, that they desperately needed.

Philip thrived, making lifelong friends and representing the school in rugby on the 1st XV and cricket on the 1st XI. He went on to Birmingham Medical School and became a GP, working in Zimbabwe and at Grute Schuur Hospital in Cape Town, before spending 30 years looking after patients on the Welsh border (doing his own on-call).

He was married to Lesley for 50 years. Together they had a 30-acre smallholding near Kington, on the Welsh border, where they kept rare breeds of farm animals, playing an active role in their survival. Conservation was a huge passion of Philip’s and he very much enjoyed creating woodland, ponds and wild flower meadows, winning a number of awards.

Upon retirement, he regularly accompanied veterans to WW2 battlefield sites across Europe with the Not Forgotten Association as a doctor, to show his gratitude for what the RAF had given him.

Dad very much enjoyed returning to Cheltenham College to talk to pupils about his experience in the years since and regularly attended Cheltonian Society events. I’d watch him wander the grounds, in quiet contemplation and gratitude for his time there. It was an experience he never forgot, and one which shaped his life and that of his family.

Philip leaves his wife Lesley, children Emily and Tom, and grandchildren. He is deeply missed.

The following is the final stanza of a poem written by Philip’s daughter Emily and read at his funeral.

When I speak to your friends and patients or anyone you came across, it seems, I’ll look for you.
In the stories they tell, of what you did for them, how you impacted their lives beyond measure, your extraordinary antics and how you made them laugh.
I’ll find you there, dad, in plain sight,
In the way you touched so many lives and the legacy you created.
In all of the many ways you got it so right.