The red Accrington Stanley shirt is a blur. He moves, he sways, he mutters: "Yes please Lawrence", and, as if by magic, the slowest (but best educated) barman in the world sticks a pint in his giant paw. "Blimey," says Tim, "You have a thirst tonight, mate."

"Well, how was your week?" I ask. "Oh, musn't grumble" says the Big Man. And off we go for two hours of random but amusing commentary on his life, journalists, food, Berlin, women (he seemed rather fond of women...), Tom, houses he bought, houses he should have bought, music, kebabs and anything from which he could make a pun. For over ten years, our Saturday night was Big Peter, Little Peter (for whom we had to save a chair - his chair - Tim and us. Always stimulating, often unrepeatable, always life-affirming. We came to the Day-Care by accident, and stayed because of the conversation. If life is a story, Peter was the best story-teller. All the best mate and thank you.

William & Sarah Cullum