‘Uncle Cyril’, as he was to me, is one of those special people who have known me since before I even knew myself. As a child, I just recall the feelings he inspired: wonder, warmth, love and magic. As a got older, I realised he was a kind, joyful and fascinating man with a gadget for every occasion, always hidden away in his shed tinkering with something, but always keen to stop, share, inspire. When we moved abroad, Cyril represented home: he was there at the airport when we arrived back in the UK each summer and the time we spent at Fromer Road with him and Joyce were always happy days, topping us up with the familiar warmth that we missed when away. In later years, I treasured the afternoons I spent curled up on the sofa in Fromer Road, drinking tea and listening to stories – finally learning more about the life lived by this man who’d known me so long. He was an extraordinary individual and I will forever be grateful to have had him in my life, to have been able to make him smile and share a few moments in his long and remarkable existence. He will be missed but treasured; a very special man.