As a family we still think of you all the time, recalling those wonderful holidays, savouring the meals we shared, remembering the long car journeys when you speeded up when I had fallen asleep 😴 (and thought I hadn’t noticed!), or when we all sang to Rod Stewart, or Billy Joel, Sam Cooke, The Searchers or a myriad other singers and groups, or hummed to Mozart, Beethoven or Ravel. The famous occasion when, at the start of our car journey to a conference in Strasbourg, I mistakenly said ‘ At least it isn’t raining’ but it never stopped all the way there! Love you always. Rosemary.

My uncle always made me feel loved and happy. He brought laughter to our house when he visited and we loved him dearly.

My lovely uncle. I was talking fondly about you today to my husband while watching a programme about the Poor Laws and Edwin Chadwick. I remember a conversation with you when I'd started my GCSEs about the corn laws and the poor laws and no idea at the time that you were an eminent social historian. You were just my lovely uncle who showed interest in my naive and nascent education in a field which I only realised after your death you knew so much about. I wish I still had the chance to talk to you about these things, your Charles Booth work and so on. And I miss your humour. And your sticks of chewing gum if I sat still and was quiet for 5 minutes