When I was younger, this time of year usually meant that I was about to embark on a Tim-style Easter egg hunt – admittedly I dragged this tradition out slightly longer than most kids, but that’s only-childism for you – I joke. The real reason was that these hunts were not your typical ‘scatter a few eggs in the garden’ type of affair, they were fantastic and evidently one of the many things Tim had a flair for. Easter-egg-hunt-curator-of-the-year, for many years. I would be presented with an intricate clue, something that required a little brain power but something to make me laugh at the same time, and then I would be away with hint here, a pound there, a riddle there and gizmo here, there was treasure planted all over the garden.  A lot of the loot would have been picked up by Tim along his travels, souvenirs and trinkets, I see now how considerate this was. Even when he was orchestrating something fairly ordinary, like the hunt I talk of, he put a lot of thought into it, turning it into something special. These gestures never went unnoticed, although never his intention, and from reading the stories on here its apparent that Tim was consistent with his kindness. It was altruism through and through and it is not hard to see where he got this trait from with parents like my Granny and Grandad.

Despite being the only child in the family, I always had the most fun when Tim and Ali were around inventing games, of which they took great enjoyment from themselves, and indulging me with a personal favourite dubbed *office* where they had to type up fake documents and answer fake calls…very convincingly. This was still probably better than another one of my own creations which called for the catapulting of rubber balls down the stairs to hit Ali, which I should probably apologize for at some stage. Not long ago, my mum told me of ‘Hover Kitty’ which was a much loved pastime of a young Ali and a younger Tim. This, as its namesake suggests, entailed elevating a cat into the air (on a cushion of course, don’t worry) followed by a tremendous amount of laughter. Thinking about this, and thinking about how fun, creative and playful my uncles have always been brings a real smile to my face, it’s a life lesson in itself really: be silly, and I mean that in the NICEST sense of the word.

Tim was majorly creative and turned his hand to many a project which encourages me to pursue my own interests. He was a testament to the fact that you can be good at so many things. ‘The Grot Boggle’ was a collaborative effort of ours: I was about seven or eight at the time and while walking through the lovely Devonshire countryside to reach the sea we had passed one of those take-a-book-leave-a-book contraptions, from this the Grot Boggle, a book eating goblin, was born. We came up with an entire plot surrounding our Southwestern creature that afternoon and I had almost forgotten the details when a hard copy, complete with illustrations, popped through our letter box some months later. How wonderful it is to have such a memory preserved.  

More recently, when it came to choosing my degree Tim was so interested and supportive, offering his pressureless advice along the way. Then, when I was struggling with the soporific effect that some university literature can induce, Tim told me of a time when he had tried to tackle this same issue by bringing a small oxygen cannister with him to the library - in order to stay refreshed, something he said looked a little weird in retrospect. The idea of this has always amused me. I can’t say I ever tried it but if I thought it would enable me to store even a tenth of the knowledge Tim could I’d have one on me at all times.
One of the last times that I saw Tim was when he hosted my friend and I for a night’s layover on our route to Vancouver. He made sure we got there in one piece and drove all the way to the airport once again to make sure everything went smoothly when flying home solo at the end of the summer. The connecting time for my flight to Ireland was meagre and because of Tim, acting as an f1 pitstop, I was thrust a hot coffee and transferred to the right terminal with ease.

I cannot believe it has been a year or that its even happened at all. But Tim is not gone and will live on through everything he taught us just in his way of being, and for me personally, through the types of friends I strive to surround myself with as I know just how great people can be because of him.

Daisy