When I was growing up uncle Ken was my mentor, when I was 6 years old I cried because he had joined the army, I prayed no one would shoot him and I couldn't wait for him to return. Nan, (Ken's mum) was housekeeper to Mr Holmestead who lived in a big old house in Bedford where I remember playing with Ken. I remember going into the attic where Ken and his brother had a gun, probably an air rifle and they peppered the sign in the field opposite but they wouldn't let me have a go. Often they would take Mr Holmstead's car for a spin and on one occasion they took us all to Cornwall, my brother, sister and mother. When I was 12 years old Ken got a job away from Bedford and moved to Worthing. I asked my parents if we could also move to Worthing so we could be with Ken but no such luck. Ken would often come up to Bedford to see his mum and the rest of the family but eventually over the years more or less everyone ended up in the Worthing area except me. The things that I took with me all my life was his zest for life, his kindness, his sense of humour and his signature laugh.
