I have known Kevin for nearly 30 years, since well before he settled in the Midlands.

We met in the musical wind ensemble, Sweet Harmony, a group based in the Reading area. So when I first met Kevin, he was wearing the required Classical, Mozartian uniform, which included a smart, long tailcoat; knee-length trousers; a ruff; buckled shoes; and tights.

And very dashing he looked, too!

Sadly, we all did.

And the music was life-enriching and beautiful. And his horn-playing - into my left ear - was always sweet, rounded, centred, reliably on point, reliably in tune, reliably accurate, and reliably musical.

I soon got to learn that the word ‘reliable’ was one that frequently came to mind when I thought about Kevin and got to know him well over the years.

And ‘kind’ and ‘thoughtful’ and ‘caring’ and ‘understanding’. Kevin was a great listener and a reliable confidant. There I go again - reliable.

And when Kevin relocated to the West Midlands, he joined an orchestra that I played in regularly at the time. Later we both played together for many years in another orchestra in Sutton Coldfield, every Thursday evening. During term-time only. We also played together on the local ‘high-end’ amateur music-making circuit all over the Midlands. But Kevin was so good that he was picked to play horn concertos from time to time. His chords in the Weber Concertino were bloody amazing! And he also played a memorable, awesome Strauss 1, for example.

As Horns 1 and 2 in Sutton, we were a tight team. He did all the difficult stuff. I egged him on and celebrated his sweet, rounded, centred, reliably on point, reliably in tune, reliably accurate, and reliably musical sound, and his lyrical, full-bodied First Horn solos. The orchestra loved him and could rest easy, knowing that he would always deliver.

Kevin was a leading committee member for the Sutton Orchestra and became a well-known, reliable, and much-loved advocate for the Orchestra, Sutton Town Hall, and the Borough’s promotion to ‘Royal’ status, in due course.

Kevin also played a full part in supporting a local community theatre group (and playing the piano for them when rehearsing and performing their Musicals), and later - now in a different uniform, Kevin volunteered regularly at Crich Tramway Village near Matlock in Derbyshire, again looking dashing, now in his Inspectors’ uniform - and hat.

On a personal note, Kevin was someone I knew would help me if I urgently needed to fix something in my house (memorably, an incessant smoke alarm that pierced my ears in the midst of a cracking migraine once). Thanks, Kevin! Sorted. No fuss. No bother. Fixed. (A great engineer, wasn’t he? Knew stuff).

More recently, Team Horn had the honour of Zooming with Kevin every Sunday morning throughout lockdown. We could see deterioration in his condition every week, sadly. His physical decline was rapid. But there was absolutely no doubt about the keenness of his mind throughout the relentless progress of this cruel disease, and the enduring sharpness of his sense of humour.

I have never heard Kevin say a bad word against anybody - ever. Rather, his humour was always good-humoured. And he had us all falling about laughing even the exact week before he died, with his pithy one-liners, written painstakingly into his LightWriter, to be unleashed on us unexpectedly, at the touch of the Play button.

He had had a naughty, delighted look on his face at one point that day. It transpired that the staff female toilet opened out into the corridor opposite Kevin’s room in the hospice. He loved it that they made a fuss of him every time they came and went. (He loved the ladies! Even when they were just outside the Ladies).

Earlier, on Kevin’s 53rd birthday on 22nd July, we had surprised him (with Annette’s help) by turning up as a socially-distanced horn quartet and played for him in the garden in Rugby.

We all breathed a collective sigh of relief when we all understood fully, there and then, that Kevin was in a place surrounded by an immense amount of love. Annette is an angel. And her family is also totally amazing, loving, kind. Every one of them. And we include Martin (Kevin’s brother) in this assessment: what a remarkable man.

Kevin has been something of a love bomb to us all, especially over the last few months. He has been relentlessly cheerful and kind, good-humoured, accepting, graceful, calm. Of course, I know that he cried with Annette: they cried together from time to time, which is healthy. But throughout his illness, Kevin never showed any hint of self-pity. Only love.

And Kevin has taught us all a lot. And our collective love for him has grown and grown. And now that is all we feel.

Apart from the sadness of losing him.

And our admiration and love for, and gratitude to, Annette and Martin, and Kevin’s whole family, and the wonderful staff at Myton Hospice, Coventry.

And what remains is love.

I visited Kevin at Myton a couple of weeks before he died. And he had his work laptop on his table. There you go - Mr Reliable! In his career, Kevin had risen to a high-ranking, senior role which included being the main, lead man for the country when it came to all things Level Crossings. He died in Service.

Kevin will be sorely missed by his family, friends, colleagues, and all who knew him.

We love you, Kevin. Fare well