David, I miss you every day. I miss you first thing in the morning when you would invariably regale me with some gruesome account of the previous nights viewing. Murder and dark deeds would abound over your dry Weetabix and cheese, until it was time for you to go back upstairs and 'have a good bash' otherwise known as your daily shave which you were not skilled at, it has to be said. Every single morning I'd offer you assistance and every single morning over a four and a half year period you'd politely (but most adamantly) refuse. So, like your father, before me, I'd just stand and point to patches of your chin in what I hope was a helpful manner. Conversely, you were very happy for me to brush your wonderful thick hair and would actually go a little bit dreamy! I miss you at 8.15 when you came down for your second pot of tea to wait for the transport to day Services. This is when we'd have 'Any Requests' using Spotify. I can't listen to Blue Mink's Bannerman or Call Me Number One by the Tremeloes without tears . They were your absolute favourites but you also loved lyrics that told a good tale like Tony Christie's 'Maria' which was all about revenge and had the added bonus of a firing squad. I miss making your lunch box, the contents of which were never to vary. Nevah! Once, I put the wrong flavour crisps in and you warned me that I was in danger of 'becoming complacent.' That bit of advice always makes me smile as did your wonderful use of vocabulary in general. We put red and blue lines on the bath enamel to help you with depth and temperature. You appeared afterwards, pointing out to Fran that he had 'failed to use an indellible pen.' Sometimes I'd ask you to remind me what a word meant and you were always spot on with your definitions. I miss you coming through the door at 4pm telling me about weather systems and reservoir levels and dictatorships. I miss tea time with you and the music quizzes around our table. I had never met anyone able to Name That Tune so quickly..particularly if it was a Bond film theme in which case we got the entire plot as well. When Ivor came to live with us you faced serious competition on the music knowledge front. I can so clearly picture the two of you ping-ponging answers across the table and the excitement and laughter we all shared at the closeness of the competition. Suddenly you'd take your leave and go up stairs to see 'your programmes'. I swear it was the massive TV you saw in what was to become your room that convinced you that The Blue House would be an acceptable place to stay! Once, when I was in Abu Dhabi, Harriet rang me in a panic as your TV had stopped working properly and you were quite distressed, insisting she get an aerial man in. "Has Ann been hoovering her room?" I asked. "Check the booster switch on the landing. " All was resolved instantly and the message you asked Hari to convey to Ann simply priceless. " Tell Ann Green that I bear her NO malice." You were always such a gentleman and a gentle man. We could be forgiven for thinking that you lived in your own bubble. It often appeared that way and yet there were times when you showed real empathy and concern if someone was upset. Thank you for that, David and thank you too for managing to make the adjustments inherent in moving to a new place. We feel so very proud of you in achieving that with such dignified discussion and maturity. I miss your delight when an 'under the circumstances' supper was called for which meant cheese and biscuits upstairs if a large dinner party was happening. We continue to have "under the circumstances" exceptions to things and a myriad of your other expressions live on in The Blue House. We continue to 'make a bit of a blunder" and hope to 'drastically lose weight' without too many 'fisticuffs'. I miss you, David. Every single day.