I first met Paddy and David when they moved next door to my parent’s home in Walkford. Mum and Dad were naturally very concerned when their previous neighbour moved away – who would buy the house next door? They were so relieved when it was Paddy and David. The four of them developed a wonderful companionship for many years: helping each other when appropriate; sharing news of each other’s families over the years; and keeping a watchful eye on Mum after Dad died. And then… heartbreak again for Mum: her good neighbours needed to move to a ground floor flat: not far away – in Highcliffe – but no longer next door. But still, Paddy and David didn’t abandon Mum and visited regularly. And whenever I came from Exeter to spend some time with Mum, one of our trips, whenever possible, was to go and have a cuppa with Paddy and David. After Mum died, I continued to visit Paddy and David – in fact, they became very important to me because it was one place where I could share memories of Mum, where Paddy and David knew me – my home life, my work, my hobby. In some ways, they became my second parents, especially Paddy (sorry David!). What was special about Paddy? We all have particular memories and answers to that, but for me one thing was her pragmatism. Yes, she was in a lot of pain these last few years, but if she could see the birds, watch the children going to and fro, and hear news of others, she was content. She was also able to keep a balance – where there was sadness or disappointment, she sympathised and understood, but also conveyed a silver lining thought, or a word of encouragement. Her love of nature is well known – visits to Exbury for the seasonal delights – azaleas, daffodils; the Forest for sights of the deer and the bee orchids; feeding the birds outside their patio doors. Recently, she loved to tell me of her joy of being able to see and hear the animals and birds from their windows at Quaker House and to watch nature change through the seasons. Until the last few years, whenever I visited there was a plate of homemade biscuits, baked by Paddy and carried to the coffee table with great aplomb and pride by David: what a welcome! Simple, but saying: ‘We’re both glad to see you.’ One thing Paddy and I shared was a love of cross stitch. I treasure the birthday, Easter, and Christmas cards she made – I guess many of you do. She loved to hear all about the latest Craft Show I’d been to and to see what I’d completed. Going back to my Mum, it was Paddy who encouraged her to continue with her water colour painting after Dad died. It was a great sadness to Paddy when the physical joy of doing cross stitch was something she had to relinquish. This tribute is for Paddy – but it has been impossible for me to put this tribute together without talking about Paddy AND David. They were together for 72 years; they had been through thick and thin together and the support and love they gave each other was tangible. The gift of encouragement and acceptance of one another’s differences, being realistic about what is possible and thankful for what has been, the ability to be grateful for the little things – the squirrel chasing round the trees, the cheeky bird tapping on their patio doors, the first buds of the azalea, the brightness of the yellow daffodil after the dullness of winter – these are some of the pictures that spring to mind when I remember Paddy. David, Andrew, Steve and your families: your loss is palpable, real and painful. But together you have all demonstrated the power and inner strength that the love and support of family can be, and I thank you for that. I thank you, too, from the bottom of my heart, for sharing Paddy with me and my Mum. God bless you all in the days of adjustment that lie ahead.