Jez

I moved into my house in July 2000. At that time, I was working in Edinburgh, and I had two out of three weekend with my daughters. I'd pick them up at five on a Friday and take them back after dinner on a Sunday evening. 

Consequently, the time I had in Kirkby Lonsdale was pretty hectic. There was no working from home back then! I managed to stay on top of the domestic chores - well, just about - but the garden became wildly overgrown that summer. Each week the grass looked less like a lawn and more like a field that had been put out to fallow.

And then one Friday I came home to find the lawns, front and back, had been mown, transforming the gardens. Finally, the girls could go out and play without me worrying what wildlife they might encounter: it would have been an ideal home for one of those rumoured Big Cats.

It took me a few weeks to find out who'd mowed the grass, but it was, as you'll have guessed, Jez. 

Over the years, I slowly got to know him better: a friendly guy, although never in your face friendly, with a dry and ready sense of humour. The was something about him and the way he looked that reminded me of old British films, and, perhaps, a bit of my grandfather. 

He was the street's odd job man, apparently able to turn his hand to anything, and I reckon he worked on everyone's house at one time or another. 

He was a keen cyclist and perhaps that was why I was surprised when he had some problems with his heart a couple of years ago. He looked a little frail the last time I saw him, a couple of weeks before he passed away, but well enough, so it was a horrible surprise to hear he was gone. 

Today was his funeral, followed by a service at St Mary's, which Dan, Abi, and I went down to, casually dressed as requested by the invitation. I wish Jez could have seen how many people were there and it was lovely to bump into people I hadn't seen for years at the wake afterwards in the Royal Barn. 

He was such a good man, and I believe he'll be sadly missed by an awful lot of people.