I went to stay with the Harpers at rather short notice, after my foster placement broke down. Since I was six I’d been in two care homes and with 6 other foster families. So you can take it from me, I felt by then that I knew *exactly* what a ‘proper’ family should be. They, on the other hand, probably wondered what they were letting themselves in for... You don’t need me to tell you Peter was tall. In fact, he was very tall. And sometimes he seemed a little bit stern. When I met him, my first thought was ‘Puddleglum the Marshwiggle’. But I was obviously reading the wrong books. Peter very quickly became my very ideal of a father figure, a gentleman in every sense of the word. He offered advice and guidance when asked, but simply listened a lot of the time, mainly as I never shut up. (Some things never change ...) From the first day, the Harpers let me feel settled - and, just as important, they allowed me to be ‘big sister’ for a while to Matthew, Emma, Nick and Katy. Peter set a great example of how to be kind, how to read bedtime stories and how to give piggy-backs. I have so many lovely memories of Peter - but some are especially good: a guided walk to see the moonrise on Tiree; helping with repairs at Draenen Unig (I’m not sure which of us knew less about plastering); collecting dung for the allotment from the circus in Sophia Gardens, and how he came all the way to Lancaster University to see me when I was having trouble with life in general and a boyfriend in particular. Peter was always so kind and very generous with time - in person and on the phone. Even from a distance, when I lived in London and then Manchester, and as I got older, Peter was just there - an amazing person, a father figure, the best of men. I’m just so proud to have known him even a little, and to be counted amongst those many, many people who will miss him.