It’s been a long week that started with an innocent, if unexpected, telephone call from Andree “Do you know what is happening in Canada?”, but which quickly unravelled into a surreal mixture of tragedy, emotion, disbelief, anger and heartbreak. But I have also seen a close family come together in mutual, unreserved support for each other, united, and, I think, in some ways strengthened by an experience than no-one outside of the family can understand, for although of course there have been many similar tragedies, each is in its own circumstances unique.
I can add nothing to the words already expressed within the family on either side of the Atlantic, and this is not the place to share the very personal words and thoughts that each of you has expressed this week. I did not nurture Duncan, and did not grow up with him, and he was not my son, father, brother or uncle, and so I cannot share your pain in the way that you all have to bear it. It would be too painful and distressing for me to even try to imagine how I would feel in the same circumstances.
To me Duncan was warm, generous (very generous!), open, honest, funny. Whenever and wherever I visited Duncan, I felt at home as soon as I walked through the door. No airs, no graces, just an instant warm welcome, and a cold beer. And of course a hot barbeque topped with an inch of best steer. Those steaks were a central part of the whole experience. Duncan chose the best steaks that he could find; marinated them to enhance what was already almost perfect, and cooked it exactly as it should be – no mean feat on a barbeque. But I could never quite understand the garlic coating!
Duncan never really seemed relaxed, always busy concentrating on ensuring that the rest of us had a good time, but that warm, almost cheeky, grin never seemed far from the surface. That is the image that comes to mind when I remember Duncan – his infectious grin. Ian’s description of Duncan was essentially of a warm generous enthusiastic fun loving big brother, but with an underlying complexity. I think Ian was spot on.
Technically we live in Oaktree House, but sadly the tree had to go.
We now have a thriving Oakstump at the front of the house.
