In the 1950s I remember John Bew, his wife and adopted daughter visiting our near neighbour, Jo Bailey, every now and again.
My mother told me he was a potter, and that he was a troubled man. Towards the end of the decade, she said that he had probably committed suicide by drowning. At that point, his body had not been found.
I still own a simple pot, very much in the style shown on the web page. Whenever I use it for flowers, I remember him and his family.