For me, there's a grim resonance in David's passing close to Christmas as I have my fondest memories of him from this time of year, from the family get-togethers on Boxing Day.

My earliest memories of David are when as a young child we would visit David and Wendy's when they lived in Amersham. David would point out to me the squirrel in the garden through the big living room window. Boxing Day would see us regularly seated around the dining table there playing Newmarket with the contents of David's big jar of pennies. David happily saw the proceeds of a year's worth of savings being gambled away in the game by his relatives.

When they moved to Codmore Farm there were many more Boxing Day memories. There was David insisting to Grandma that the lunchtime sausages had to be cooked until they turned black to ensure they weren't raw. There was the Boxing Day when the chimney caught fire, and David and my dad racing outside to see how to put it out. There was the Boxing Day he got extremely drunk (a great amusement to me as a teenager) and had to go to bed early.

And then there was the Trifle Incident.

There were thirteen of us sat around the dining room table that year. As the mathematical genius amongst us, David was delegated the role of dividing up the large trifle Grandma had made between us. Somehow, he managed to serve out twelve portions only then releasing that he had left himself out. He took missing out on the trifle, and the ribbing from the family,  with great grace.

That's the David i will remember: a man of great cleverness but humbleness, good humour, genorosity and always happy to share a joke, even at his own expense.

And Boxing Days will never be the same again without him.

Uncle David, Rest In Peace