Our Dad, It’s difficult to know where to start. Let’s begin with Bow Bells. He tells us he has born within earshot of them. He was the first son of Laurie and Harvey celebrated the birth of his brother by promptly falling off a garden wheelbarrow and breaking his nose. At the age of 8, the family moved to 18 Caldicote Gardens in Bushey Heath. It was here, six years later in 1941 that a German bomb managed to blow the roof off their house. The Blitz was also a time that Harvey and his friend – Pat Duffy– would sneak away to Willesden station to watch the air raids across London. Pat would tell his parents that he was at Harvey’s house, and Harvey… well, you can guess the rest. After many more boyhood adventures, and at the tender age of 14, Harvey started his working life with an insurance company in Elstree. National Service in the RAF prevented any long-term career aspirations, though. And as an RAF airman, he was posted to West Africa shortly after the war ended. As children, we loved to hear his stories about his time there – and especially stories about ‘Pickin’, his pet monkey. Back in England , Harvey started work with the Provident Mutual Insurance Company. He enjoyed life to the full as a civilian again, and was set to enjoy it even more when a certain young lady called Audrey caught his eye at a dance . Ever the gentleman, when the dance finished, he took Audrey home on the back of his motor bike. A couple of years later, on the 24th of September 1960 they were married. Four years later, in 1964, I came along, followed by Nichola in 1967. Dad’s career, by this time, was progressing well. He worked for two Estate Agents before becoming the proprietor of Cracknell and Son in Whippendall Road, Watford. Away from work, Dad enjoyed a busy and fruitful life. He was Chairman of Bushey and Oxhey Round Table from 1966-67 where he formed many life-long friendships. And somehow slotted into his busy weekends was, of course, the race walking. Dad was very proud to have calculated that he walked the equivalent distance of twice round the world. He was a lifelong supporter of Watford FC and a vice president during the late 70’s and early 80’s in which time they rose from divsion4 to division 1 and got to the Cup final in 1984 He was thrilled when the call went out from London 2012 for Olympic Games Makers. We were very worried about his health around this time, but he was determined to be a Games Maker. And his resolve to see it through strengthened even more when he was issued his uniforms. The photos of Dad, wearing those familiar uniforms, show just how proud he was of being a key participant in the greatest Olympic Games ever. We thank those who helped him to be there. Nichola and I had a lovely home life but the high points of each year were the family holidays. Cornwall was the favourite destination when we were younger, but Harvey’s ‘wanderlust’ soon kicked in to include more exotic destinations such as Tunisia and the former Yugoslavia. Once Mum and Dad got Nic and me off their hands, they extended their travels even further. To Australia, for example, where they took the opportunity to visit Dad’s cousin – Derek. And of course to Canada, where Dad’s brother – David- had emigrated some years before. Wherever he was, be it a Greek taverna or in the restaurant on the QE2, Dad was as happy with a plate of Calamari as he was with Cordon Bleu cooking – provided it was always chased down with a glass of wine. At home, though, the weekends nearly always saw Dad mowing the grass or tending a worryingly large vegetable patch. He was particularly proud of his asparagus bed, and always won the race with me to produce an early – and very delicious – crop. “You lot”, he would say, “You’re not here to see me. You’re here to eat all my asparagus!”. Dad’s weekend tasks were only partially interrupted by a bunch of grandchildren. Right on his 70th birthday, our son James was born, and from that point on he reveled in being able to celebrate a double birthday. Nichola’s twins, Max and Isobel, followed a few years later. He was very proud, and delighted in being the grandfather who played with the children in the garden on lazy summer afternoon before taking charge of the barbecue. Dad would tend to the steaks and sip on a glass of wine. He loved such simple pleasures. Dad was very much a family man – always proud of our successes and sympathetic to our misfortunes. Nichola and I did our fair share of scraping cars as we attempted to back them out of the Ridge Lane driveway. Characteristically, though, Dad would be more concerned for our well-being than for any dents or damaged paintwork. Dad did have his share of disappointments, though. When I was 7 he was diagnosed with bronchiectasis, and told that he would be in a wheelchair within two years. It is a testament to his lifestyle that this did not happen. A lifestyle that Colin Taylor will talk about later. This, together with expert help from the Royal Brompton Hospital, helped Dad manage the condition. And through it, he became a keen supporter and fundraiser of the British Lung Foundation from its first inception. The Royal Brompton was also instrumental in another significant way. Nichola and I hatched a plan for a surprise Golden Wedding anniversary party but Dad was due to be admitted into hospital for tests a few days beforehand. Overcome by panic and the accumulation of some serious catering, we contacted the hospital, who agreed to postpone the tests. It was with huge relief that the party remained a surprise to both Mum and Dad, and it was lovely to see them catching up with friends and family on the day. Mum and Dad have been married for 52 years and the old cliché that says behind every good man is a good woman has never been truer than it is when applied to Mum. Dad has had a difficult time in recent years, and Mum has always been there for him – patient, caring, loving, even when she was in difficulty. Thank you, Mum. We miss Dad terribly. His wisdom, his humour, his kindness, his well-considered advice – and even his occasional crankiness. The strange thing is that he is now perhaps more in our hearts and memories than he has ever been. And there he will stay. Thank you.