If I should go before the rest of you Break not a flower nor inscribe a stone Nor when I am gone speak in a Sunday voice But be the usual selves that I have known Weep if you must Parting is hell, But life goes on So sing as well

Aged 4 – getting a cradle that he had made for me with my own baby in it because my brother had arrived Aged 9 – filled with excitement and trepidation because dad was coming home off a trip which meant opening his grass woven bag from Nairobi market full of pineapples, passion fruit, avocadoes, poppadoms, and spices for curry and fresh coffee beans. But it also meant no more TV dinners and sitting at the dinner table properly with straight backs. Aged 14 – being allowed to have a small glass of red wine with my Sunday lunch while watching Dad sharpen his knife and expertly carve the roast beef Aged 20 – going on a trip to Barbados on the jump seat with him as Captain and hearing his voice over the loud speaker telling the time to the passengers – the little hand is on 12 and the big hand is on one and since we have a delay I am going to open the bar ! Aged 23 – on 5th July 1982 watching him enjoy his independence day with no regrets at not flying again but looking forward to his retirement Aged 30 – being dropped off outside terminal 4 heathrow when I was about to start my 6 months travel, he wouldn’t stop the car despite mum’s protestations – “I’ve taught her all she needs to know about travel, she’ll be fine” Dad got better as I got older, funny to be with, always jolly, usually ready to pour me a drink! I realise how lucky I am to have had such a great Dad, always there for advice and support, as well as being there for the fun times of which there were too many to mention. He had a good life, and very good health until the last few years, and even then his humour, good spirits, determination (and perhaps stubbornness) carried all of us through. He never complained about his illness, and only became frustrated when he had to listen to Mum and me in stereo talking for England when he would roll his eyes to heaven. The twinkle in his eye never faded, he was brave and strong in his heart and mind until the very end. He never wanted us to fuss and maintained his dignity and independence to the last. And now he would want us all to remember the laughs and fun we shared with him. He definitely liked a good party and would enjoy the fact that so many friends and family are here to remember, celebrate and have a drink in memory of a great chap, friend, husband, brother, uncle, granddad and Dad.

Thank you for setting up this memorial to Mike. We hope that you find it a positive experience developing the site and that it becomes a place of comfort and inspiration for you to visit whenever you want or need to.