A year on and I miss him so much.

Nuncle, Floss and Isabel have always been there, a constant source of love and laughter throughout my life. It was always Nuncle and Floss and Isabel (and for a period, Snowy too) in my birthday cards all throughout my childhood. It was always months of anticipation for Christmas with Nuncle, Floss and Isabel. It was always “Nuncle & Floss send their love” when Mum had talked to them on the phone. And indeed I believed her - I felt hugely loved.

Nuncle was my adored uncle. I vaguely remember feeling jealous when Isabel appeared in the scene and I didn’t have Nuncle & Floss’ undivided attention when we’d visit, but that feeling didn't last once Isabel stopped stealing my toys and became good fun. My adored uncle would indulge Isabel and I in our games. He’d get involved in hunting dwarfs around the garden and he and Floss let me plaster their car windows with adverts for My Little Ponies which included their phone number. They would even watch Isabel & I's cringeworthy puppet and dance shows with encouragement and enthusiasm. It was my adored Nuncle who chased Isabel and I around our apartment during a visit to Gambassi when I was five. I still adored him even after he opened the window in our flat and accidentally let my helium unicorn balloon fly free – and that's saying something!

I remember as an 8-year-old sitting on the stairs in our house in Cambridge in rapt excitement late into the night – or so it seemed - waiting for Nuncle, Floss and Isabel to arrive on their weekend visit. I knew there would be fun and laughter because there always was. Nuncle and Mum rushing around like buffoons, herding us towards the shovels to drain the beaches in Wales, leading us begrudgingly through a mud bog on our way to Charlie Chalks, singing their duo ''you’re my little coochie face and you’re my teddy bear’’ in the kitchen too many times. Occasionally, one of them would get too carried away; one such instance occurred when Nuncle chucked a massive log into the stream in Epping Forest and drenched mum head to toe. Every time we visited, without fail, Nuncle and Mum would natter away downstairs, playing shove-halfpenny until the early hours of the morning, making me feel safe as a child, knowing I wouldn’t be the last one asleep.

Nuncle made us all laugh & Mum especially. She came back from a visit to Fron Fawr giggling to herself for months afterwards every time she said the word insane, recollecting Nuncle's maniacal laughter every time she used the word. I remember him picking us up from Heathrow, and Mum sounding like a ‘giggling fanny’ (as my Grandma would have said) the entire ride to Higham’s Park. I hadn’t heard mum laugh that much in a long time, probably since last time we’d seen Nuncle. She would always laugh at his puns, the good ones and the bad. He was mum's ally and that made me feel safe. During our visits, Dad would be somewhere in the background until he’d suddenly erupt dramatically – and Nuncle's cheeky side just couldn't help coming out in full force much to everyone's enjoyment. Luckily Floss was there keeping some kind of order, though I could even get a rise out of her by scraping my fork against my plate at mealtimes.

One Higham’s Park Christmas, Isabel, who was around 7 at the time, cried during a home video we were all watching in the sitting room. How could her parents love her as much now that she was wasn't such an adorable small child? I remember how both Nuncle and Floss comforted her, their love so transparent. And I have felt so loved and comforted by them all. Nuncle would stick up for me during my childhood when Dad was being unreasonably grumpy with me. At Legoland, Floss was there for me when I was too scared to go on a ride that even Isabel went on. Years later, on my 19th Christmas, Floss was there for me again; she gave me a stocking when mum refused because I was too old – which guilt-tripped Mum into giving me stockings to this day!

I spent weeks at Nuncle and Floss’ over two summers when I was 11 & 12. Weeks of sunshine, love and laughter. Memories of setting off fireworks in the garden and of splashing about outdoors in the heat of summer whilst Nuncle was hosing down the car. Of playing ball in the garden with Nuncle and Isabel. Of Floss driving us to car boot sale after car boot sale and taking us to the pool time and time again. Of having breakfast with Isabel in the sitting room, ensconced in front of a cartoon TV show. Of us chasing after golf balls while Nuncle and Floss were playing golf near Isabel’s Granny Chesters' house. Of having secret midnight feasts with Isabel on the landing outside her room scoffing on chocolates which we had stolen from the cupboards earlier that day – and the terror when Floss discovered us one time! Of Floss convincing Isabel that I should get the “my little pony” we found in the charity shop. And finally, memories of tears at the airport when I had to leave.

Christmases at Higham's Park carried me, dancing and singing, from childhood to adulthood. Nuncle would turn any kitchen into a dance floor and had the best moves to go with it. He’d get us dancing around like lunatics, with washing up cloths in our hands, to Aretha Franklin, to Gangnam style, to anything and everything. He’d get us all chanting too. There was ‘’Oh my Word’’ during the Huxloe Christmas and the ‘’ hills are alive with the sound of music ….. AHHHHHHH AAAAAAHHHHHH AAAHHH AHHHHHHHH’’.
Each Christmas, every night before bed as far back as I can remember, Nuncle would give me the tightest hug - it was almost a squeeze - and say ‘’Night night, nuncle loves you lots and lots, see you in the Morgans’’. Nuncle, Floss & Isabel made Christmas so magical that it never does quite feel like Christmas without them.

Nuncle brought life with him (and a boom box!) and his energy was contagious, even just months before he left us. When I visited in November, he made me a delicious supper, gave me delicious wine, and talked about the future. I can't believe he's gone.