Carol’s story The name Derek Wood has been part of my life for almost as long as I can remember, though I knew the other members of the Wood family better, from church originally where Derek seemed to be a more shadowy figure. Although we then moved to Headfield road to live opposite Derek, he being 3 years above me at school we weren’t friends, didn’t really know each other. Tony came on my scene as a friend of Derek’s introduced by another mutual friend, but I probably wouldn’t have phoned him during a weekend trip to London if I hadn’t seen him around with Derek- so thanks Derek (indirectly) for the last 41 years. Once Tony and I were together I started to get to know Derek. One of my earliest memories of this time is of him spending 4 days out of 10 driving the four of us to South West France in 1973, without complaint despite the many stops we no doubt asked for, starting a lifelong love of the area for us. We only fully appreciated this when a few years later, young children in tow, we did the same journey with 2 drivers! (For the record we were Eurocampers). We have more recent memories of enjoyable weekends away and shared celebrations, memories of Derek obviously being a devoted husband, father and grandfather but without going on about it, just being interested in everyone else’s life, a caring friend. The only person I know who measured the milk for the oats so simple in the packet instead of pouring and hoping for the best.