When i was a child my Grandmother told me stories of a mythical being; of humour, grace, intellect, honesty, decorum and humanity, all the virtues. I had no idea what she was saying, i was around 5, but i didn’t forget what she told me. Almost twenty years later i got to meet the mythical being in person and for the next nearly four decades it was the privilege of my life to call him my stepfather. My name is Alastair and he was married to my mother Jean. His name was Ken and my Grandmother undersold him. He was so so much more. A traditional eulogy this is not, but eulogy translates as “speak the truth” or “speech of truth” and that is my intention. I wont try to kid you that he was great at DIY as i spent too many years putting his projects to rights. Its also not my intention to tell you about his prowess at golf either as most shots resulted in lost balls. Similarly i wont tell you about his captaincy of his wee sailing boat as he nearly killed us both in Southampton water in a typhoon and its not my wish to kid you that his sense of humour was funny because it wasn’t. Actually it was hilarious but you didn’t get that from me. Instead, i would like to take a fork in the road here if you will permit me. Just relating recent events i would like to put your minds at ease. If you knew Ken as i did and felt about him as i do, you may wish to know this. In the first half of this year Ken increasingly appeared on the radar of his GP after a long relationship with illness. She and her colleagues together with the pharmacy at the Binscombe practice turned their professional gaze in his direction in the same manner that The Royal Surrey staff had done, the pop up clinics at Milford and Farnham and the Nuffield did, as well as his long time friend and Arsenal fan, the consultant Dr. D had. The district nurse, volunteer prescription delivery driver together with the radio therapy and chemo therapy staff, occupational therapist from PT and home carers all turned their laser focus on him. Heads went down, tails up and with all the stops pulled out and shoulders to the grindstone, moved forward as one to deliver the best possible outcomes for him through a ‘difficult’ time. Thank you all so very much and for the last bottle of lotion or potion / packet of tablets in captivity, at thirteen o’clock, i will be forever grateful. More recently Ken and his family found themselves in The temporary Phyllis Tuckwell Hospice in Camberley. He was cared for daily by his brother and his children, his own children, his wife and her children and the greatest people on the planet; the staff that work there 24 hours a day. Nothing was too much trouble for them and they cared for him and his needs at every turn, some even laughed at his jokes which i am sure you will agree is going above and beyond. They cared for us too and looked after us whilst we were there sometimes when they couldn’t even get in the room they brought us advice, sympathy and even sandwiches / cake. There are no words to describe their activities and its not as if it was their good deed for the day, this is their everyday. Thank you seems inappropriate if that’s remotely possible. I wanted to re-assure you that he was very well cared for and he was. He was never alone and never left alone or lonely and was surrounded by people who meant a lot to him and who loved, cherished and adored him in equal measure. God keep you now Ken and God bless you also and though i tried to thank you for everything you had done for me and others, i will say it again as i do to those that helped you..

Thank you for setting up this memorial to Ken. 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.

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.