My colleague and friend, Chris, died 2 years ago. She was only 54 and hadn't been ill very long. She had an operation on her bowel but then had to have another and died 3 days later. She had transferred to Crewe office so we didn't ever find out what the cause was but it all happened rather quickly.
Chris was small and blonde and very into horses. She had had a horse of her own since she was a teenager, used her wages from a paper round to help pay for its keep. Now she had 3 and was a Pony Club show judge. The family were far from well off and lived in a small semi but they were all horse mad.
Her son and daughter had always ridden and both were keen show jumpers. Every morning before work Chris and her husband and kids went to the stables to see to the horses. In the evenings, when she worked in my office, I gave her a lift home as she lived near me and she'd have me in stitches with her tales of what the horses were doing. Monkey, her son's last pony before he upgraded to horse, was a houdini who was always getting out of his loose box - "in his pyjamas" as Chris described his night blanket - and dancing up and down the passage. Major, who replaced him, got picked on by the little mare, who bit him on the bum every time he went near the field gate, so he would sidle along the side of the fence, "whistling" nonchalantly (according to Chris) and do that horsey thing where they stand with their ears pricked looking at something nobody else can see to make the mare look too - so he could get to the gate first. Car journeys home with Chris were very entertaining.
Chris's son, Gareth, was a few months younger than my grandson, Peter. He went to Lymm High School and, after A levels, decided to become a farrier. He got an apprenticeship with a man from Northwich and trained for 4 years, doing a college course as well. He was still show jumping but didn't have the money to concentrate on it full-time. He qualified, fully, as a farrier last Summer. His mother would have been so proud.
Early on Saturday evening there was a car accident on the lane that runs adjacent to my road. A silver Lexus hit a tree, no other vehicle involved, and the 28 year old driver is facing prosecution for causing death by dangerous driving. The passenger was killed outright. The passenger was Gareth.
Gareth gave a eulogy at his mum's funeral. Though you could see how hurt and upset he was he made it quite light-hearted and he concluded by saying that if his mum was there she'd no doubt be giving him a "bollocking" because he hadn't ironed his other shirt. I don't know if there's an Afterlife and, to be honest, I very much doubt it but, if there is, I hope that lad's with his mum.
Good night, Gareth and Chris.
Chris was small and blonde and very into horses. She had had a horse of her own since she was a teenager, used her wages from a paper round to help pay for its keep. Now she had 3 and was a Pony Club show judge. The family were far from well off and lived in a small semi but they were all horse mad.
Her son and daughter had always ridden and both were keen show jumpers. Every morning before work Chris and her husband and kids went to the stables to see to the horses. In the evenings, when she worked in my office, I gave her a lift home as she lived near me and she'd have me in stitches with her tales of what the horses were doing. Monkey, her son's last pony before he upgraded to horse, was a houdini who was always getting out of his loose box - "in his pyjamas" as Chris described his night blanket - and dancing up and down the passage. Major, who replaced him, got picked on by the little mare, who bit him on the bum every time he went near the field gate, so he would sidle along the side of the fence, "whistling" nonchalantly (according to Chris) and do that horsey thing where they stand with their ears pricked looking at something nobody else can see to make the mare look too - so he could get to the gate first. Car journeys home with Chris were very entertaining.
Chris's son, Gareth, was a few months younger than my grandson, Peter. He went to Lymm High School and, after A levels, decided to become a farrier. He got an apprenticeship with a man from Northwich and trained for 4 years, doing a college course as well. He was still show jumping but didn't have the money to concentrate on it full-time. He qualified, fully, as a farrier last Summer. His mother would have been so proud.
Early on Saturday evening there was a car accident on the lane that runs adjacent to my road. A silver Lexus hit a tree, no other vehicle involved, and the 28 year old driver is facing prosecution for causing death by dangerous driving. The passenger was killed outright. The passenger was Gareth.
Gareth gave a eulogy at his mum's funeral. Though you could see how hurt and upset he was he made it quite light-hearted and he concluded by saying that if his mum was there she'd no doubt be giving him a "bollocking" because he hadn't ironed his other shirt. I don't know if there's an Afterlife and, to be honest, I very much doubt it but, if there is, I hope that lad's with his mum.
Good night, Gareth and Chris.
