I first met Jill, my dear Godmother, when I was 4 and just starting at Bury School, where I became close friends with the boys. I don't recall our first meeting (likely due to being 4), but I have a whole childhood of happy memories of time spent with the Haywards. The Haywards really were one of the highlights of my childhood, and we always looked forward to time spent together. Jill was such a lovely, kind, and fun person, yet always stoic and supportive if times got tough. She was of course a wonderful mum to the boys and not too shabby in her role as Godmother/surrogate mother to us. Her midnight feasts remain the stuff of legend in the West Burton and Watersfield area. 

There are of course too many memories to list here, but here's one for posterity: Burned into my memory is dear Jill's face, when early one wintery Saturday morning, two young children from the neighbouring village arrive at her house, having run away from their miserable lives of persecution. Jill didn't miss a beat, and didn't get angry. She kindly took the refugees in despite her shock, fed them breakfast, and allowed them to play with her sons whilst alerting the authorities in West Burton!

I last spoke to Jill just a few weeks ago, and despite all the rotten times that her and the family have been through of late, she remained so lovely to talk to; so happy and positive, and so thankful.

I am incredibly lucky and proud to have had the honour of knowing Jill. She will be sorely missed, but remembered often and with great fondness. xxxx