I remember clearly moving next door to 'Uncle Harry' in the early eighties. My father Walter told us that we shouldn't become too familiar with the neighbours. He promptly became great friends with Harry and we were soon inviting them round for barbeques and going on day trips to Calais. I remember one of our day trips to France when Harry and my father thought it would be a good idea for us to have our sandwiches sitting on a monument on a traffic island in the centre of Calais, much to the amusement of the French driving past and probably thinking - Les Anglais!

After we moved to Lake Garda in Italy, Harry and family would visit us on holiday in the summer. Harry loved Italian life and was so enthusiatic at trying new things including Grappa which he didn't like - at first. Nothing fazed Harry including Rupert managing to get a fishing hook stuck in his leg and having to visit our local hospital. At least that stopped him chasing Stephanie with maggots. The last time I spoke to him was this summer after my partner passed away and he gave me some advice. He was a good friend to our family and I have some lovely memories.