When George just over 2 years old and James was about 12 weeks we spent a week in the north of England first visiting the Lake District and then travelling east to visit Alan’s mum in Morpeth, Northumberland. Whilst in the Lake District Alan decided he wanted to climb Helvellyn with George and asked me to drop him off somewhere at the base of the mountain. He put George into a baby carrier, swung him onto his back, and cheerfully waved us goodbye. “Don’t you need some water or anything? ”, I called after him. “No, we’ll be fine” he shouted back ‘ See you in about 2 hours. Meet us the other side". So off I drove with James and ended up in Patterdale, a very small village at the base of Helvellyn. After pushing a pram around Patterdale which, incredibly, I managed to string out for about two hours I turned my attention to the hill walkers making their descent into the village expecting to see Alan and George amongst them at any moment. After waiting another hour I started phoning Alan’s mobile which, 18 years ago, was a touch optimistic but I was getting worried. And so the long anxious wait began. I started asking walkers coming down the mountain if they had come across a man carrying a toddler. “Oh yes”, one man said “I saw them drinking out of a stream”. It was 6.5 hours since waving them goodbye before Alan and George’s beaming (and sunburnt) faces eventually strode into Patterdale car park. “That took a bit longer than expected” said Alan “We’ve had a fantastic walk”. I was a little cross by now (so was James!) but this soon vanished as I began thinking what a special thing Alan had just done and how proud George would be one day when I reminded him of how his dad carried him up and down Helvellyn. This little story sums up my beautiful Alan; nothing was ever too much of a challenge, he faced everything head on and he never had any regrets.