My dad was never more content than when walking up a hill or a mountain – particularly those in the Lake District, Yorkshire Dales and Wales. He took great pleasure in introducing friends, family and (particularly) groups of young people to the challenges of hill walking, and to the sense of wonder and satisfaction that you get from reaching the top of tough climb… The view from the summit. The sense of perspective that you gain. The cobwebs blown away. One of the last mountains I climbed with him was the Old Man of Coniston in the Lake District. I remember it was a typical Lakeland day – grey, heavy cloud shrouding the top section of the climb, a wild cutting wind – horizontal rain at times! I also remember the enjoyment we took in persevering to the top that day, of sharing sandwiches whilst sheltering from the wind, the brief, but warm conversation we had. The (occasionally mis-placed) confidence I had in his navigational skills... The lasting value of the shared experience. As some of you will remember (!), I didn’t always love the climbing bit of climbing mountains. When I was a toddler, dad carried me up hills in a back pack. When I was a bit older he encouraged, cajoled, bribed or (when necessary) dragged me up them. As time wore on I suppose I became stronger, more experienced and began to fully appreciate that in order to experience the view from the summit, you need to be prepared to put in a bit of graft and hard work. Metaphorically, dad climbed many mountains during his life. You’ve heard of his relatively humble beginning in St Helen’s, how hard he grafted to educate himself, get decent jobs, raise a family, start a business, do his invaluable youth work, lead a church, look after and accommodate troubled young people and so on. In his later years, the mountains dad climbed became much more modest, but no less important – to maintain his dignity, sense of humour and to show others that he cared. His message to us? We all have our own personal ‘mountains to climb’ in life. Find your mountains, prepare yourself to climb them, don’t be put off if you fail to reach the summit first time, persist, have fun, give and receive help and encouragement from your fellow climbers – and you will succeed. And, make sure you take time to appreciate the view once you reach the summit! “Inheritance” is a funny old term. There are some key characteristics I hope to inherit from my dad. But, firstly, some things I have not inherited and sadly am not likely to inherit – his practical, scientific brain and DIY wizardry. I’m afraid there is truth in the saying ‘you can’t teach an old dog new tricks…’ Another characteristic I hope not to inherit is his ability to fall asleep anywhere within a minute or two of sitting down! A number of awkward, inappropriate very public snoring moments flood back and (now at least) make me smile. I understand that this is a trait that my elder brother, David, may possibly have inherited... So, what do I hope to inherit from him? A passion for improving the lot of children and young people. A love of music – playing and listening – and for walking and cycling. An appreciation for the beauty that surrounds us – the countryside, the stars. A strong faith. Stamina to ‘keep on keeping on.’ But mostly, to be kind and warm more often to more people. Over the last few weeks our family has received countless messages from friends and family speaking eloquently of the ways in which dad showed them kindness and warmth – the tremendous force for good that he was in their lives. If I can become half as good as him at doing that, I will be content. During the last 20 or so years of his life dad benefited enormously from high quality care, respect and love from a variety of people – from those family and friends who were able to see through the camouflage of his illness to see the man underneath. And what about the warm, kind human beings who were paid to provide care for dad? We are touched that a number of dad’s carers (past and present) are with us today. Carers in our country are under-valued. Dad would want it to be expressed publicly just how grateful he was and we are to his carers. You gave him dignity and respect during his time in Banham. When I mentioned earlier how I aspire to inherit warmth and kindness from my dad I had you in my mind.