Today has obviously been very difficult and sad. He was quite a remarkable child, and his parents are remarkable people. I first met his mother about 7 years ago, she was one of my students - slightly older than the others having already worked in London, that made her more driven and eager to learn. Her husband is a warm, charismatic and very handsome man who had worked hard to become a successful fitness trainer and healthy living expert. There was some humour in them buying the house directly behind mine a few years ago - our gardens butted up against each other, and last year the moved to the house directly opposite - much bigger and finer with a large garden, a ‘forever’ home. The people who bought their old house are the ones who painted it Parma Violet and have erected a high fence. R&J were, and still are, amazing parents - I was incredibly touched always by the closeness they have with their children (a little girl joined them a few months ago) - the kind of parents mine never were. H had an astigmatism and some neurological issues that everyone was aware of, but was so bright, engaged and alive it was impossible to think of him as anything but perfect. He was born, with about 3 mins warning, on the stairs of their house - no time to call for help - his father brought him into the world and it was just the two of them there when they let him go. I can’t begin to imagine how anyone could bear this, or even start to live again. They have large families and many, many good friends and supporters, and are well known and loved and already smothered with support and care - but it’s not the same. I can’t get the image out of my mind, his dad - a great, tall, strapping bloke of about 6’4” walking slowly up my road with his little boy peddling furiously on his tricycle, his dad letting him win every time.