How my brother broke his leg. There were three of us. “Three in three years, that’s a handful.” Was often illiterated. In my memory I don’t know who said that but it was a common sentiment and said often with a sort of awe. A stunned acknowledgment of how difficult that would have been. Not that we knew anything about it we were just kids being kids. Mike was the eldest slightly awkward, but a sauvant at maths. Julie was the girly girl, head in a magazine, helpful in the kitchen. I was the youngest, a tomboy. So it made sense that while Julie was cooking or busy with her nose stuck in a book, Mike and I were off exploring or climbing trees. Getting up to mischief. On the premise that It’s ok to be naughty; just don’t get caught. I remember this one day we’d made a see-saw out of a log and a plank of wood. Bored by its limitations we looked for something to extend its interest and make it bigger and by extension, better. So abandoning the log we hoiked the plank onto the hedge thinking that would make a fine fulcrum for the see-saw. And it did for a while. The hedge was at the bottom of the garden, it was a short hop up, (the land being on the side of a hill,) but a long drop into the field below. “ You’re the lightest so you have to sit on the field side. That way I can control it.” Sounded good to me. What did I know. He was my older brother, I just did what I was told. The first couple of goes were fun but safe and as I screamed with excitement and chortled “higher” his ego, suitably stroked, gave one almighty bounce. Oh no! (Weapons of mass destruction) the whole thing collapsed. (Seemed after all that his calculations were a bit off.) The plank and I ended up in the lower field and I’ll never forget his expression as he sailed over me before crashing somewhere close by. I don’t remember how he got out of the field with a broken ankle but I do remember the fierce warning of “Don’t tell” And I never did bro’ not until today.

Death is Nothing at All by Henry Scott-Holland Death is nothing at all. I have only slipped away to the next room. I am I and you are you. Whatever we were to each other, That, we still are. Call me by my old familiar name. Speak to me in the easy way which you always used. Put no difference into your tone. Wear no forced air of solemnity or sorrow. Laugh as we always laughed at the little jokes we enjoyed together. Play, smile, think of me. Pray for me. Let my name be ever the household word that it always was. Let it be spoken without effect. Without the trace of a shadow on it. Life means all that it ever meant. It is the same that it ever was. There is absolute unbroken continuity. Why should I be out of mind because I am out of sight? I am but waiting for you. For an interval. Somewhere. Very near. Just around the corner. All is well. Nothing is past; nothing is lost. One brief moment and all will be as it was before. How we shall laugh at the trouble of parting when we meet again!

Thank you for setting up this memorial to Mike. We hope that you find it a positive experience developing the site and that it becomes a place of comfort and inspiration for you to visit whenever you want or need to.