1945 was one of the most momentous years of last century. There had been a prolonged period of pain and anxiety, but finally came relief – Mary was born. Incidentally, the War also ended, making it a double celebration. Dad was a priest. He started as a Curate in Wyke Regis and while there, Mary was born in Weymouth hospital. They soon moved to Dad’s 2nd curacy at St. Paul’s Bedford. One of Mary’s most notable achievements in Bedford was to acquire her very own baby brother. This was so successful that she did it again and along came Chris. In 1949, Dad was promoted to fully fledged Rector and we moved 12 miles west to the beautiful village of Aspley Guise, near Woburn. The Rectory was a magnificent, 3-storey building, attic above, vast cellar below, and surrounded by a huge garden on the side of a hill – where there are now at least 5 detached houses. We had an idyllic childhood in tremendous surroundings with great friends – and from memory the sun was always shining. I can’t tell you about the mischief Mary got up to, because she was always the good girl, while I was the naughty boy. One of Mary’s great kindnesses to me in more recent years was not spilling the beans and letting our boys know what I got away with when I was their age! She was a very reliable older sister – a great comfort when I was in trouble, but often she kept me out of trouble – and that happened twice in 10 minutes on 3rd April 1954. Firstly, as I was dashing off to school, she reminded me it was Mum’s birthday. Then, while I was executing my recovery plan, picking daffodils near the top of our garden, Mary screamed a timely warning. A very ferocious gander and his favourite goose from the neighbouring farm made a practice of taking over our garden every springtime and fighting off anyone who got anywhere near their nesting site. At Mary’s warning, I turned just in time to see the gander hurtling towards me at almost take-off speed. If you want to hear the end of that story, catch me later – but Thank you Mary! Dad found it tough to be responsible for the entire parish and 4 kids (younger sister Veronica was on her way), so first Mary then I were packed off to Boarding School - Mary to St. Mary’s Hall, Brighton. A year or two later, I was despatched to Wells Cathedral School, Somerset, where, by amazing coincidence, I met Ian, who was a few years my senior at the School. In about 1960, Dad became Vicar of Waltham Cross and we moved into another large house in extensive grounds (we were spoilt!). Mary and I came home during school holidays and I remember one evening in the sitting room – Dad writing next week’s sermon, with our old black & white TV on. Mary & I were on the sofas stuffing cushions into our mouths to stifle the laughter, hoping Dad wouldn’t realise how funny we found “That was the Week that Was” and turn the TV off. Chris reminds me of being impressed by Mary’s sign-language skills when she brought a deaf & dumb friend home from School one half term – an early sign of concern for those less fortunate and her future specialist teaching career. On leaving school, Mary went to college. I know little of those days except that she gained a number of lifelong friends. I’m delighted that one of these, Sue will shortly tell us about those times. I also look forward to meeting a number of her teaching colleagues who are here today. I’ll mention 2 of her financial schemes. One was the enormous Johnnie Walker bottle which Mary gradually filled with sixpences as her Donkey fund. Veronica was heartbroken when this turned into a Record Player, not a Donkey. There was also her skill at dress-making for friends, relatives and for sale under the name of Mary Mole (ask me later). Off-cuts were turned into Ties as Mary Mole Originals. While in Waltham Cross in the 60’s, very good family friends from Aspley Guise, Betty & Geoff, occasionally visited us. One of my earliest memories of Aspley, around 1950?, is of Dad going off to the church to marry them. Over the years, Mary and our whole family spent very many happy times with them and their two children, Chris and Liz. One of their visits to Waltham Cross was for Mary’s wedding day, when the photo on the Service sheet was taken. The Reception was in the Vicarage Garden where Bet & Geoff roasted a pig for us. Perhaps it was the unlikelihood of ever tasting anything as good again, that turned Mary vegetarian? It was a very memorable, happy occasion – and if you want to know more, please ask Geoff – because I’m thrilled that he and Liz have come down from Aspley to join us. Dad died in 1970, a shock to us all – and we all moved our separate ways, Mary to Southampton. Each of my many visits to whichever house she lived in through the years, felt like coming home. This was even more true later, when my wife Gill had worked her usual hospital night shift on Christmas Eve, got home to be bundled bleary-eyed into the car and driven to Southampton, where Mary laid on Christmas for us and the boys yet again. It would be easy to fall into the trap of saying that Mary struggled to bring up Tom & Sally on her own. But Mary never seemed to struggle over anything. Whatever life threw at her she took in her stride – even these last few months. Gill reminds me of one occasion when we arrived at Mary’s house to meet Roseanne, Veronica & Dave’s new baby. They also brought 2 dogs, we brought Paul & Sam (aged 6 & 7). Tom & Sally were about 9 & 10. Mary had 2 cats, 3 rabbits, 2 guinea pigs, plus a neighbour’s cat and a glass cage full of stick insects. All creatures great and small had to remain in separate rooms – and Paul & Sam had to be kept away from everything. You’ve guessed – but not until Day 2. A door was left open, the dogs saw the cats and gave chase, the cats knocked over the stick insects. Paul & Sam tried to help by cleaning out the guinea pigs’ cage - with a hosepipe, neglecting to remove the guinea pigs first. Mary remained calm throughout, retrieving the stick insects, pacifying a distraught Sally with her 2 bedraggled guinea pigs while patiently instructing Paul & Sam in animal husbandry. All the various creatures and family were fed, watered & sent on their ways without a single cross word from Mary. As I said, I knew Ian years before Mary did – but their meeting was entirely coincidental, and was the best thing that ever happened to her. (Sorry, Tom & Sally – the 3rd best thing that happened to her). I am not alone in being hugely grateful to Ian for all that he has done over the last 16 years to make Mary’s life so happy and complete. Now to the last few tragic months. To those who gave support, friends, family and professionals, may I say a heartfelt thank you. To everyone else - may I assure you that Mary remained happy throughout – always more concerned for others than for herself - not a care of her own, because she was totally trusting in the care she received from Ian, Sally and Tom (who displayed a maturity I’m still striving to attain), and many others, and the love and friendship shown by the regular stream of visitors – thank you all. Mary appeared unaware of her condition, despite her loss of mobility and reliance on others to assist with basic essentials. In her final weeks and days, Ian had a regular struggle to get Mary up onto her feet, as she said “No, no, no, no, no!” or “No wait!” Ian had to be firm: he pulled, we pushed. I will always remember this picture, as Mary was finally on her feet, face to face with Ian – giving him a big smile and a bigger kiss. Ian, I’ve already thanked you for those 16 very happy years – may I also thank you for these last months – not only for all you did for Mary – but for the master-class you’ve given us in how to care and how to love. I last saw Mary less than 3 days before she died. The last thing she said to me was “Cheerio Mike, God bless!” I couldn’t put it better myself, “Until we meet again – Cheerio Mary, God bless!”