Dear Dad (the Great Raymondo), Things will never be the same, a family party, cutting the lawn, a Chelsea game, Things will never be the same. What makes the perfect Dad? He works hard to earn money for his family. He takes them on holidays that they will never forget, whether it involves cooking mussels on a camp site or indulging themselves at The Grand Buffet. Giving never-ending love and support. He plays football, cricket or any silly invented game in the garden with his kids at every opportunity and with little persuasion. He is able to fix anything and everything and does so with unbelievable humility. Being a best friend, and a Dad. He laughs and is fun. What you taught me? How to be, that previously mentioned, perfect Dad. The lost art of cricket scoring. The unanimous importance of family. Always strive for the perfect lawn. You can never watch a single episode of Porridge too many times. Putting Sellotape on one side of a tennis ball creates hours of joy. There is always time for a swifty with your mates to let the traffic go on Putney Bridge. Laugh and have fun. Unfortunately, I still don’t know the answer to the difference between a 17p pack and a £1 pack of custard creams. What will I remember most? Karen and I teaching you to swim in the sea on holiday in France when you were aged 36. That golf shot in Eastbourne you played that could have caused a multiple car accident but gave you a birdie. A football player, coach, educated spectator, passionate fan and impartial linesman. Every single Christmas of my life with you. Watching you carry cast iron baths downstairs on your own like Superman when you took me to work with you in the school holidays. Your 1980s moustache. A magical, momentous moment in Munich side by side. Ray and Julia. Laughing and having fun. What will I miss the most? Talking and obsessing with you over sport. That Jagger dance. Watching the most amazing Grandad with 4 adoring grandchildren – you and they deserved each other for longer, but they already know how great you were. When Alfie was told that you had died, he simply said “But he is the funnest person I know”. Somebody to pick me up from a pub crawl at 3am in the morning to drive me to Stansted Airport. Somebody to suggest that you can have your leftover Indian takeaway for breakfast tomorrow with an egg on top. Somebody to lend me their car when mine breaks down and then spends all their time repairing mine. Your laugh and your total sense of fun. Things will never be the same, a picnic at the cricket, a Rolling Stones song, a trip to Spain. Life will never be the same. Your loving son, Paul