I’ve known Didi most of my life. I was fascinated by Didi when I was a child, how could an adult be so small and so full of energy and laughter, wasn’t that way of being reserved for children? I remember saying this to my Mum and saying Didi was like a bottle of champagne, small and full of bubbles. As I got older our friendship grew and Didi became a very dear friend. I have many memories of continued childlike fun, her (usually rather risqué) jokes, conversations half in English, half in French and often in silly accents, Didi proudly showing the man in Hamleys the photo of her as Sticky Paws and having him print it on a mug for me – I always smile when I drink from it. Didi was horrified to discover that in my twenties I only owned three pairs of shoes, two of them “sensible” and launched her crusade to make me a woman with a shoe for any occasion. I now have a whole cupboard of shoes but still had to go shopping to fulfil her instructions to wear red sparkly shoes to her funeral. I hope she’d approve of my choice. We shared dreams of owning dogs and holidaying in the South of France again. We shared tears and tenderness as we each struggled through difficult times. When I faced difficulty Didi would say she was there, running along the sidelines in pink Doc Martens, waving pompoms. It was easy to picture! I miss my dear friend, my little cheerleader.