When you are an only child, cousins can assume a much greater significance than might be supposed. And so it was with Joan for me.

Living on Merseyside and in Cheltenham we didn’t exactly live in each other’s pockets and visits weren’t so very frequent but they were anticipated eagerly and greatly enjoyed. Joan would watch the antics of her little cousin with a mixture of amusement and benevolence. I don’t think that I played to that particular gallery but I was always on the lookout for her reaction.

Life moved on and visits were with Rex usually to see my parents and grandmother, which several faded photographs give testimony to. Lives were lived, families raised and visits became less frequent but Joan would always keep in touch. Be it a Greek island, there were a few of those, or a Welsh village, we would always get a postcard. The fact that it often arrived a week or more after Joan and Rex had returned home is a matter for the Post Office’s conscience.

A recurring theme is Joan and Rex’s enthusiasm for keeping in touch. Both our daughters’ weddings were attended, and enjoyed, despite one being held in the backwoods of France, or so it seemed. First names on the list, first to confirm.

Joan was good at communication. I recall her mother keeping a list, I think on the kitchen wall, of significant dates in the lives of family members and cards were always received. When Aunt Norah passed away, Joan assumed that role but in a turbocharged manner. Freda and I got cards on our birthday, we got cards at Easter, we got cards at Christmas. We got cards on our wedding anniversary when sometimes we hadn’t even sent cards to each other! And the postcards……

In recent years, since we moved to Devon, we had the pleasure of several visits from Joan and Rex. Again, this willingness to keep in touch. When visits weren’t possible, there was always the telephone. I’m embarrassed to say that I probably received at least three calls for each one made but Joan took it all in her stride, hopefully recognising that it was a gender thing. Blokes aren’t that good at keeping in touch.

Sadly, it was my turn to ring when Joan passed away. I had promised her at Christmas that I would definitely learn how to use my new mobile phone, not exactly state-of-the-art but with WhatsApp, which I still struggle with. I suppose at these times there are always things one meant to do when we are taken by surprise at events.

Rest in peace Joan. You leave a space that can’t be filled.

With love

David