Here is the eulogy to Mel that I read at Chichester Cathedral on 28th of May 2025. She looked absolutely resplendant with her coffin wrapped in her beautiful and awe inspiring camp blanket adorned with her highest medals of acheivement (the girl guides Silver fish, the WAGGS medal of service and her MBE).
The whole service can be seen either on youtube: https://www.youtube.com/watch…
or downloaded from the vimeo link: https://vimeo.com/1081843153/…
Eulogy for Mel
Good morning everyone.
Thank you all for being here today. It means a great deal to us that you're here to honour the life of Mel. She was so much to so many — a daughter, a friend, a colleague, a mum, a Guide, and to me, my beautiful wife.
Mel was born on 27th September 1981 in Poole Hospital. She grew up in Dorset with her twin brothers Iain and Jamie. With her gorgeous blue eyes and perfect blond hair, her father Terry often said he couldn’t put her into a baby contest because it simply wouldn’t be fair on the competition. Throughout her childhood she was fiercely headstrong and independent characteristics she never lost. When she came back from her first brownie evening saying she didn’t want to go back because it was boring she was told that the whole term had already been paid for along with her uniform and she would be going back for the whole term at least. After her first Brownie camp she was utterly hooked and as you have heard the rest of her life would be aligned with the Girl Guiding movement. She also helped out as a matron at Dumpton Prep school earning some pocket money tucking in the children to bed one of whom became a famous presenter and was recently on strictly come dancing. At school she was a keen musician, however after a few lessons on her first choice of instrument, a violin, her teacher with the greatest of tact said “Mel I think you were born to blow, not bow” she exchanged the violin for a clarinet and anyone who has heard her playing her Buffet will agree she was a true virtuoso.
Mel and I first met in 2001. In Croydon, there was a day centre for people with learning disabilities called Bramley Hill. Annually they camped at Dudsbury and the local guide groups would provide carers. My neighbour Tony volunteered as a chef and asked me if I’d like to come along and volunteer as a male carer, and my younger brother Thad as his kitchen boy. At the time I didn’t realise that this would change my life forever. Camp was great fun and a couple of the guides, Thad and myself got together in our downtime to write some songs to perform to the group. One of Mel’s great qualities was her tenacity. At camp she loved nothing more than being given an impossibly filthy billycan with baked on porridge and soot from the fire, a scourer and some fairy liquid. She would go to town at that Billy can and by the end it would be gleaming like freshly polished parade shoes - she on the other hand would be covered in Grime but beaming her unmistakable smile. One song we wrote was “Minging Billies” to the tune of my bonnie lies over the ocean in three part harmony. Part of the chorus included “so bring all your billies to Mel” at which point she would leap up shouting “To Me!”. Mel’s natural warmth, and calm confidence drew people to her. Her infectious smile would light up a room along with her twinkly blue eyes. She also had great inner strength that carried others through hard times even when she was carrying her own burdens quietly.
She qualified as a radiographer from Queen Margaret University Edinburgh in 2005 and began her career in Cornwall. It didn’t take long for her to become an integral part of the team — not just for her professional skill, but for her creativity, compassion and her tireless support of others. I always admired how she gave her whole self to everything she did with full commitment. A perfect example: she helped her Cornwall radiography team plan and complete the Three Peaks Challenge. Despite being quite unwell at the time and unable to climb the mountains, she didn’t just cheer from the sidelines. She created a beautiful, hand-crafted banner for the team. Mel always downplayed her sewing and craft skills but when she did do something it was always amazing – whether it was a banner for a challenge, a no-bot robot costume for Barney with functioning detachable bottom, or her camp blanket that you can all see today. I always admired her passion and enthusiasm, always going the extra mile, always finding a way to bring people together and lift them up.
We had kept in touch since Bramley Hill, and in 2006, after a fortuitous purchase of a bass guitar in Cornwall, we decided to take a leap and start a relationship. It wasn’t easy — we were 315 miles apart, she was in Cornwall and I was in Doncaster — but somehow, we ensured it worked. She was worth driving more than half the country to see. For two years, we courted across thirteen counties, and finally in 2007, she moved in with me when I began my GP training in Darlington.
During those years, she worked at James Cook Hospital, where she was part of a pioneering service in the cardiac labs. They helped develop a method to replace heart valves using guidewires — a less invasive alternative to open heart surgery. It offered hope and healing to patients who were too frail for traditional surgery. She didn’t just work in that department — she believed in what they were doing. Mel loved her job as a radiographer and she was particularly proud to be part of this team, and I was so proud of her.
When I completed my GP training we decided to move closer to our families as we were considering having children. We drew a line at Northampton and I applied for jobs south of there. From my first interview in Selsey I felt welcomed and at home there so we ended up settling in Chichester. Mel got a job at the Spire hospital and immediately got heavily involved in Sussex West Guides.
In 2014 she fell pregnant with Barney, she was due to be induced on her birthday however one of her stern guider looks later and the plan was swiftly changed to the 29th September. Fortunately he was a boy as Barney was the only name we could agree on! Every day she would tell him she loved him and was proud of him. His clothes were always ready and ironed, his school bag packed with the appropriate kit ready, lunch either ordered on the unfathomably complicated parentpay website or packed and ready to go. School trips were booked and in the diary. She micromanaged everything at home in between a myriad of online meetings in different timezones around the world. She loved Barney intensely as do I, and was proud of him every day as am I.
In December 2022 she noticed a lump in her breast – I was immediately concerned, but Mel in her casual manner played it down. Sadly it turned out to be cancer. Throughout the next year she endured chemotherapy and radiotherapy. She was always ready for the next treatment and wanted to try everything she could to beat the cancer. She researched treatments and often knew about new licensed treatments as quickly as her consultant who was often disarmed by her extensive knowledge of second line breast cancer chemotherapy. In the last few weeks of April the cancer took away her dexterity and her eyesight. Despite this she remained ever positive and didn’t have a bad word to say to anyone. She was so grateful for everything – I remember her being so grateful for just a small sip of water.
Mel really was the most extraordinary person I’ve ever known. She made me a better man. She made everyone she met feel seen, supported, and valued. Losing her feels unbearable — but having had the chance to spend twenty years of my life with her is the greatest gift I’ve ever known.
She lives on in every life she touched, every life she helped through her work, every young Guide who learned to believe in herself because of her. She lives on in Barney, and in all of us.
Thank you, Mel. Thank you for your love. Thank you for your passion and belief in doing good. I will carry you in my heart always. I know that you’re watching over us, keeping warm by an eternal campfire singing campsongs with your friends.
Rest peacefully, my love.