I have a love of reading that verges on obsession, something I put down to Mum and the books she chose for me to read from the library van, which next to the fishmonger’s van was, I suspect her favourite vehicle that visited Westport. I can still remember the stories from those books including my favourite, Danny, Champion of the World!

Another memory is being home ill from school, a somewhat rare occurrence as Mum’s definition of ill was most people's definition of needing intensive care, but on this occasion for lunch, mum made braised steak in gravy with carrots and mash potatoes. Which to this day is one of my absolute favourite things!

My final memory is one I think we all share and that’s of sitting with Mum while she narrated one of her stories from her younger years normally involving various characters, a doctor's son, a little boy called something or other, that wasn’t his real name but everyone called him that and a girl or boy that mum didn’t really like but had to put up with. The location of these stories generally start in one place but invariably would then cascade through many locations, linked by various themes, until after several minutes Mum would be talking about something that had no bearing with the beginning of the tale. She usually would recite these tales with her eyes closed, seeing all the details in her mind's eye and conveniently prevented being interrupted.