Treasured memories of losing shuttlecocks to the roof, games of Newmarket, and bread and butter pudding for breakfast in bed. I will forever be a little crafter, with my ‘wicked’ sense of humour, scouring the charity shops in your honour. Love you forever Grandma. Go and find Syd - or Brian or Fred or whatever he has told the ladies in heaven that his name is while he’s been waiting for you. X

Mum's favourite poem: Abou Ben Adhem (may his tribe increase!) Awoke one night from a deep dream of peace, And saw, within the moonlight in his room, Making it rich, and like a lily in bloom, An angel writing in a book of gold:— Exceeding peace had made Ben Adhem bold, And to the presence in the room he said, "What writest thou?"—The vision raised its head, And with a look made of all sweet accord, Answered, "The names of those who love the Lord." "And is mine one?" said Abou. "Nay, not so," Replied the angel. Abou spoke more low, But cheerly still; and said, "I pray thee, then, Write me as one that loves his fellow men." The angel wrote, and vanished. The next night It came again with a great wakening light, And showed the names whom love of God had blest, And lo! Ben Adhem's name led all the rest. Abou Ben Adhem - by James Henry Leigh Hunt.

I am I and you are you, whatever we were to each other that we still are. Speak to me in the easy way which you always used. Why should I be out of mind because I am out of sight? Life means all that it ever meant, it is the same as it ever was.