14 years ago at Christmas, we were bundled in the back of a car and taken on one of dad’s adventures. We were all really excited, if not a bit apprehensive, not knowing where we were going…..

We travelled for 10 hours non-stop, around 37 hairpin bends on icy roads, skirting cliff edges in the pitch black. Despite bouts of car sickness, incessant moans from us, getting stuck in the snow and pleas from friendly locals en route, to ‘turn back, you’re crazy’, we reached our destination: A small caravan park, at the top of the swiss alps, in the midst of winter. An alternative ski holiday as dad pointed out. It was there that dad would achieve his lifetime ambition: to roast a turkey for Christmas dinner in his brand new dream caravan, watching the cricket.

There were a few technical problems along the way, at least that was why dad said it took 13 hours to cook the dinner. But he did it, and it was a damn good roast.

This story sums up dad. He was an adventurer, he knew what he wanted, however unusual, and was determined to achieve it. He taught us the valuable lesson that “There is always a solution to any challenge”, and that’s one of the many things we’ll remember. Dad taught us never to feel constrained, and supported us with whatever we chose to do in life. ‘You go get em kidda’, he’d say. 

It was actually his passion for good food and drink that drove most of these crazy adventures, from bringing his favourite Indian takeaway from Gillingham to Dublin for a family get together, importing a pallet of Rooster potatoes for Christmas (I think he got quantity wrong), and of course his mission to find the clearest, purest, best kept pints also happened to take us to some of the grottiest, dingiest, and chavviest pubs. 

Dad successfully lobbied Tesco countless times to bring back his favourite food. The people of Medway have dad to thank for the plentiful stock of Rankin’s soda bread, Maryland Cheddar Cheese and cherries (FROM KENT, not Spain).

When not adventuring, dad enjoyed entertaining and embarrassing his children as much as possible, mostly involving some form of fancy dress or his part-time hobby, mimicking accents. 

The embarrassment started pretty young - one year at our favourite campsite, dad spent the whole holiday researching the perfect location to put the caravan for future trips. He decided he needed photographic evidence, so he made me go around on my own taking close up pictures of other people’s tents, whilst they were sitting eating their dinner. 12 rolls of film in total. I did wonder why I was getting such strange looks and comments, but then again I was only 7. 

And then there were the little eccentricities, like the odd surprise packed lunch we’d get at school. A particular favourite was a bacon, marmite, pickled onions and cheese sandwich (all together). He also had a mastermind-like ability to have one set sentence in any language ready to perform - in fact most of you will have, at one time, been greated by dad exclaiming ‘and now the news and weather’ in Gaelic.

But these are all the things we’re going to miss.

Dad was one of the most generous, enthusiastic, interesting and loving people we’ve ever known. And we’re not just saying that because he is our dad.

A good example of this is one of the last things he ever told us. Rather than think about himself and what he was going through, he asked us to thank you all for your friendship throughout the years. In his own words: 

“The old line about clouds and silver linings has been proved yet again. Ever since we realised we were on an uncomfortable pathway, mapped out by this disease, the amazing power of friends and family has been even clearer than before …so thank you for your love and friendship over the years. I just hope that we have been able to show how much this is appreciated.” 

So from dad, thank you. 

And above all, thank you dad. The world was a more wacky and happier place with you in it.

By Kate, Maeve and Amy Lawrence