My little brother Simon was born during a blizzard 60 years ago today, the third of January 1963. It was one of the coldest winters on record and it became known as the Big Freeze of ’63. He would have loved it if he’d have been old enough at the time to do a spot of skiing or walking. He made an impact immediately - a breech delivery – our mum Jean certainly wasn’t going to forget that in a hurry. Right from the off it was apparent that Simon was a very active, bright individual. He wasn’t a good sleeper as a baby, in fact our father Michael tells me that him and Mum didn’t get a full night’s sleep with Simon until he started school. From very early on Simon was ‘into everything’, to coin a phrase. There were many mischievous incidents, accidents, trips to Casualty (now known as A and E) throughout his childhood years, mostly due to his insatiable curiosity, boundless energy and downright daftness. Mum used to recount a story that on one occasion after taking him yet again to Lancaster Royal Infirmary, before she could even announce why they were there or give their names, the receptionist on the Casualty desk greeted him with, “Hello Simon, here again? I’ll just get your file.” He became quite blasé about how many tetanus jabs he’d had over the years due to wounds, scratches and the like. One particular incident sticks in my mind because I was right beside him as it happened. We were ‘helping’ Mum dig the garden one day. I was about 11 I think, so maybe Simon must have been 7 or 8. He decided that the little trowel he’d been using wasn’t up to the job of digging the hole in the earth so he reached for the full-sized gardening fork. On his first attempt at forcefully sticking it in the ground his aim was slightly off: one of the prongs, or teeth, went through his Wellington boot and right through his foot. Straight to Casualty again. Amongst the numerous incidents such as repeatedly coming off his bicycle, falling from things he happened to be climbing on, all the mishaps he had when he was playing out or generally making the most of the outdoors, there’s another funny episode that demonstrates Simon’s inquisitive nature: at the age of about 6 or 7 he found a packet of dried peas in the kitchen cupboard and thought he’d see what he could do with them and what interesting places he could put them. Yes, you’ve guessed it, the one in his ear had to be sucked out at Casualty again. In our family Simon as a little boy was politely referred to as being ‘quite a handful’. Code for very hard work. Mum in particular was often totally exhausted at the end of the day. I think I just took it for granted that’s what younger brothers were like, but I was surprised when my friends used to check with me before coming to my house that Simon wouldn’t be left to play with us. It seemed that they were slightly intimidated by him. Perhaps it was the big stick he wielded whenever a ‘foe entered our territory’. To be fair, he was only about 3 or 4 at the time. He did drop this habit a little later on thankfully. It does however show his lively imagination that had been fuelled by the endless Westerns and war films he saw – that was 1960s television for you. He was of the Action Man generation, and by that I mean the toy, or as I used to taunt him, his doll. He liked to model himself on Action Man when he was about 5 or 6. He and our cousin Graham who was a similar age used to spend hours with their Action Men and also have hundreds of tiny plastic soldiers lined up across the floor. He also loved Captain Scarlet, Thunderbirds and Joe 90 and would recite chunks of dialogue from each series in the characters’ voices. And of course he would vocalise all the sound effects, for example, screeching of brakes, crashes, screams, roar of the engines, the lot. As Simon grew older his interest in all things outdoor strengthened. He loved walking in the hills, canoeing, kayaking, basically anything that meant he was doing and it was in a beautiful environment. We were very lucky in that we didn’t live far away from the Lake District where he was always in his element. He had many friends, some very dear ones are here today, and he was extremely popular with everyone. His infectious smile, cheeky sense of humour and gentle kindness meant that he made friends very easily. We didn’t have a telephone installed at our house until approximately 1977 or 1978. I, for one, was extremely excited by this, but soon came down to earth when I realised that most of the incoming calls were for Simon, quite often girls asking if he was in. This was my little brother for goodness sake. I don’t suppose they could resist his gorgeous curly hair, the cheeky smile, his quick wit and ability to make you laugh. I will miss you Simon.

We all hail from Brookhouse, a village in North Lancashire. For the first decades of our lives we would regularly see each other, often daily, particularly when we got into our early 20s. We shared infants, football and nights out. Latterly good food and wine. Simon was a deeply thoughtful person; an inspiration to both of us. He was always ambitious and had ethics, morals and standards that where part of defining his character; and what made him such a good friend and a nice person to be around. Thoughts From Mark: Simon my Best Man Simon, I’m proud to say, was Best Man at my wedding in 1991…… Strangely, earlier that year, I randomly met Simon in Harry’s Bar in Manchester, a popular haunt for us then…… I asked him if he’d do the job. He was wary at first as there’d be responsibilities………formalities to respect, speech’s etc. Over the next few pints we made a pact………as best man for each other there’d be no best man’s speech, as the pressure could detract from a great days drinking…and we stuck to it…..what a great party we had at each others weddings. My first memory of Simon was first year of Brookhouse primary school, 1968. For some reason I started later than the rest of the new starters by a couple of months so first day for me as a 5 year old was pretty daunting. Anyway Simon, I think, sensed this and befriended me and made me welcome ………. I think Simon held on to that kindness, intuitively throughout his whole life. We had some great laughs as kids growing up in Brookhouse we played every weekend for Caton football under 12/14 and 16’s. We had more enthusiasm than skill getting beaten most of the time, generally by huge scores…..John Hayhurst can testify to this if he’s in the crowd anyway we’d laugh out loud at how rubbish we were and the double figure defeats. After much drinking and hilarity in our late teens and twenties, responsible life took over……..we were both married men with families and we’d both moved away from where we grew up as kids…..and very rarely saw each other. However, around 2008 I moved back to the area where we grew up as kids, I’d also, developed a passion for hiking and the mountains myself, we started meeting up occasionally and had some days on long mountain walks around the Lakes and Dales……….. I retired earlier this year and was looking forward to Simon retiring too, as we’d discussed many more walking adventures going into the future. Also, about 10 years ago Me, Simon and Kev started meeting up every year or so for a ‘boys’ night out…… inevitably, these nights always ended up us having too much drink, debating loudly and huge hangovers……….This tradition continued, sadly we should have met up in December, we postponed it……………….Simon’s company and those nights out will be greatly missed by Kev and myself, we’ve lost a brilliant friend. From Kev: Mr Foy: A kindred soul Simon and I go back a long way. I have a photo of Simon and I sharing a pram. I have only ever known life with Simon being there. I have lots of photos of us in fields and with pretend guns. Simon has been a massive part of our lives, and the length of time does not seem enough, but the quality of the time together was very special and the things we discussed and did would probably fill several lifetimes of friendship. My own loss is one words cannot describe. From an early age Simon was an individual, a unique character. He was always polite and impeccably honest. He dressed well and you were always proud to introduce to anyone. Preschool Simon and I played: war and cowboys and Indians. Simon always wanted to be the Germans or the Indians – he taught me to value the views of others and look at the world differently. I learnt a lot about Rommel. Mick, Simon’s Dad, evidently loved history and Simon was his star pupil. I learnt of North Africa and Stalingrad. Simon talked regularly about the preschool shopping bus journeys that we and our mothers made into Lancaster. Simon was quiet and always impeccably behaved. We always stayed in touch through school years despite having a fight when we were about 8, following a game of football. He won, the fight – not the football. Simon loved cubs and scouts, he was aspirational, he wanted to be a ‘sixer’ and soon got his reward. Scouts allowed him to express his love of the outdoors and self-discipline. It helped him develop his knowledge of the local fells and crags. This benefitted Mark and myself in later years with Simon’s knowledge of the Yorkshire Dales and Lakes. I remember going pot holing with him on Ingleborough once where he was allowed to be much more adventurous. Two elder statesmen of Caton Scouts – Patrick Milston and Ian Thompson send their condolences to Sarah and family. Simon went to Our Lady’s High School. Over the following years I gradually got to know some of his mates: Phil Doherty; Ellie, Barnsey and Laurie. Great people who Simon cherished. One summer Sunday morning, in the late 80s, Simon and I went through university courses in the newspapers on the floor of his front room. The following day I gave him a lift to Leeds for an interview in the Merrion Building, Leeds – he got accepted and that afternoon he found a flat on Hyde Park – the rest you might say is then history. Simon and I shared many perspectives; we studied similar subjects at university; had similar jobs and we also always shared political and ethical views. We were both driven by wanting to address inequality but rarely discussed work. We were politically aligned at the hip. By the time we got into the late 80s we all started to go our own way. Simon moved to Leeds; he met Sarah; became a family man He did not hold back letting us know of his love for family life. We did share our weddings. His family marked his life’s fulfillment. As our respective lives moved on we stayed close and understood each other and found it easy to express our thoughts. Those early years of friendship meant we knew each other’s characters, loves and dislikes. Simon was there for me. He was there for me at my wedding. He was by my side at my Dad’s funeral in 1990 and a few months later I was there for him at his mother’s funeral. Simon was close to his mother, and it hit him hard. I was there for his wedding and hopefully served him well, although Mark was probably the true best man for him. I knew the joint best man role meant a lot to both of us. He did not want to let me down after a lifelong friendship; he had moved on; but not quite. A friend said to me a recently that Simon always spoke to him in an American Detective voice – this typified the era, when Simon, Mark and myself used to go out round the pubs and clubs of Lancaster and Morecambe. He was funny and entertaining. Simon had massive integrity. He never sort to be the centre of attention. Self-deprecating, a sign of a decent person and a warm personality. If there is one negative, it was Simon lived in Yorkshire for 3 decades but always made it clear that his loyalties were to the Red Rose of Lancashire. I recently had lunch with Simon in Harrogate we discussed our plans, work, retirement, relationships and families. He remained full of ambition and fulfilment. He got great joy out of his family; his life and his career. Simon changed little over the years but evolved. Much we have seen of Simon in recent years is the same person we saw and liked, in infants and through his growing up years. My life is now a lot emptier.

When we were sat together on our first day of high school in 1974, it did not take long for Simon and I to develop a friendship and the realisation that we shared a love for the outdoors. As time went on, we found ourselves heading to the lake district by bus to camp, walk, climb boulders, you name it! Before we knew it, others had got interested in our antics. Mates like Richard, Uji, Stan and Barnesy came for backpacking trips, together we had some eye brow raising times. We took up an offer from my late brother Stephen to do some ‘proper’ climbing and climbed Scout Crag in Langdale under experienced guidance. At school, we even coerced our P.E teacher Mr. Birtwhistle and the iconic Mr. Fisk to take us cragging. But rock was not enough. We ventured to the mountains in winter and got a real desire to overcome snow and ice. As years of practice perfected our skills and having left school, jobs allowed us to buy the gear that was previously unaffordable. So with state of the art boots, crampons and ice axes, we were set for an expedition – Glencoe, Scotland. In February of 1983, we drove up in my Vauxhall Chevette and made camp in the scrub land outside The Clachaig Inn. Next day, we made a direct ascent of Buachaille Etive Mor, the intimidating peak that greets you when entering Glencoe. The plan for day two was an ascent of Reverend Ted’s Gully to the west of the Lost Valley. As Hamish McInnes said in his book, fate is fickle in these matters. The climb was straightforward, but reading the guidebook confused us; due mostly to the fact that we were not in the gully we had anticipated. After a series of ‘schoolboy’ errors, I found myself some 700 feet down the gully, leaving Simon stranded 50 feet from the top. Thanks to the Lochaber Mountain Rescue, we were air lifted off to the comfort of Fort William cottage hospital. The experience had severe consequences. Simon, having to wait 6 hours, alone, freezing, thinking his mate was dead! Myself, alive but battered, nothing that 2 months in hospital couldn’t fix. To quote Hamish again “They were ruddy lucky”. You may think this was enough to quash any desire to return to such situations, but we did. I thank Simon for his partnership, enthusiasm and inspiration. Losing Simon in this untimely, premature manner is not just devastating, but affords reflection on the good times. And we had plenty of those. I think that following our Glencoe catastrophe, we were both able to refocus on life and where we were both heading, an epiphany you might say. Simon went to polytechnic and I went to college, which started a whole new dimension for us both. Now, many years on, time, careers, families and life have moved us apart. But one thing remains, memories, lots of great memories.

I have known Simon for almost 30 years since he joined a strange group which included professors, researchers, policy analysts, statisticians and scary administrators! I would like to offer these recollections and personal thoughts as a tribute to him and I hope that through these, we can all catch glimpses of the person Simon was and reflect on how richer our lives were for having known him. Simon joined the Policy Research Institute (at what was LMU) in the mid-1990s as a Research Fellow in labour markets / economic policy. My first recollections of him was of a positive happy man with quite a cheeky smile! But as I got to know him over the years, I realised there was much depth to him – he was a great judge of character, didn’t suffer fools gladly and took great pride in helping those around him to develop their own careers. Although his time at the PRI started over 25 years ago, it’s great testimony to Simon that so many of his ex-colleagues have expressed their great sadness at his sudden passing and are here today. I know this means a lot to Sarah and so on her behalf I want to thank our ex PRI colleagues for being here. … The PRI meant such a lot because to quote Sarah “they were special times!”. … And that’s because the PRI was where it began for Simon and Sarah. In fact Simon and Sarah saw the same advert for jobs at the PRI in The Guardian and applied at the same time. Who knew that that separate but simultaneous act would result in their lives being joined together? Sarah was our library and information assistant – helping with literature searches, ordering books and articles and curating our typically large research repository! I don’t know when or how it happened between Simon and Sarah but it was not a place where secrets could be kept (remember those scary administrators!) so it wasn’t long before a wedding was being talked about and planned. Despite the wedding taking place over 200 miles away from Leeds. I recall with great joy driving a mini-bus with a dozen colleagues on our road trip to Kent for the weekend to help celebrate with Simon and Sarah on their special day. Simon quickly became indispensable at the PRI and was key to our service delivering a Regional Economic Advice Unit - a hot line where contacts in Training and Enterprise Councils and Leeds City Council could ring up and ask us anything to do with regional economic policy. I remember one summer afternoon discussing with Simon who were our favourite callers and whose names caused raised eyebrows (or the odd expletive) when Andrea (a scary administrator) announced “Andy Gubbins is on the line again!” Then the bombshell hit. I had been promoted to the General Manager role and our director had gone on a three months visit to Japan leaving me to “hold the fort”. After just a few days Simon came to see me and said he had been offered another job – I knew his work with us was not yet done and that he couldn’t be allowed to leave so I wasted no time in heading off to see the finance director of the faculty where we were based in to tell him of Simon’s importance and how we couldn’t afford to lose him, especially with our Director away. That day, Simon became a Senior Policy Analyst and his future with PRI was secured. Occasionally Simon could be described as being ahead of the times…. One such time I recall was when he told me that in July he would watch Chanel 4’s full coverage of the tour de france cycling race – this was well before Cycling in Yorkshire became cool! – But Simon knew what he liked and he definitely liked cycling! He failed to be excited by premier league football but he was hooked on Channel 4’s coverage of Italian football (which was very big in the 1990s after Sky took all the live TV coverage) We had a robust exchange of views – I think I said something like boring, negative and full of posers – describing Sieri A and he said something like “hoofball, thuggish and feral” describing the British game – or was that just Leeds United – like I said he didn’t suffer fools and he was definitely ahead of his time. Simon took great pride in supporting his colleagues. He was that sort of person who wanted everyone to be the best they could be. He developed a really special relationship with Fiona a young research officer he took under his wing and it was no surprise to any of us that in time, Fiona also became a senior policy analyst in Labour Markets. I too have much to be grateful to Simon for. In 1999, our director took a year’s sabbatical and the position of Acting Director opened up. Simon made no delay in coming to me and telling me he thought I should apply. He could see things in people that others did not and those gentle but direct affirming words were often enough. It persuaded me to go for it and those words definitely helped me to have the career I have enjoyed since. Simon left the PRI as the new century came in at the same time as a new organisation was born Yorkshire Forward (quite an irony for this proudly Lancastrian man!) but our paths continued to cross. I last met Simon in November. He told me he was looking forward to a new role working a couple of days a week forging better links between Leeds City Council and the Universities in Leeds working on research and evidence based policy making. Sadly that is something that we won’t now be doing together but in Simon’s honour, I pledge to deliver that closer working relationship and make it as good as it can be as a lasting legacy to a great man and colleague. Thank you Simon, Rest in Peace.

The best way I can sum up Simon is in Sarah’s words: “Simon was always authentic and showed us all what it means to be true to yourself and your values.” For me, this was true from the first day I met him to the last. Those first days were memorable. It was Summer 99 and we were a small team literally working out of an overheated kitchen in a building on Wellington Street in Leeds. Our job was to take Yorkshire forward by bringing together BMW-driving surveyors, civil servants, genteel rural developers and young business support staff. Our team was a mish mash of secondees - imagine if the Magnificent Seven was a Carry On film rather than a western. Simon’s job was to produce the first ever Regional Economic Strategy with the scarcest of resources. He was our strategic brain and we’d just recruited Ruth Redfern to navigate the varied politics of Yorkshire. Simon and Ruth at first took it in turns to persuade the other not to resign. But they made a brilliant, complementary team who were the architects of the “new” bit of the agency, which became its driving force for Martin the Chief Executive who’s here today and Sir Graham Hall the Chair. Simon oversaw a great Strategy and built a great team. His intellect and grasp of data were second to none and that’s why he had such influence. There was no doubt that he was from the Mike Campbell stable, with a knack of making the complex understandable to a range of people, always with a smile and sense of humour. That combination of intelligence and the human touch made him our compass - our North Star. He kept us on the right path. And he always did the right thing. This continued into his work at the council, where he had to deal with a different organisation - politically led and fifteen thousand colleagues. But he exerted as much influence on what we did. He built as good a team. And he did it in the same unassuming, insightful and professional way. His partnership building skills were amazing, cutting through red tape and getting to the heart of the matter. It’s testament to Simon that we have here today the three Leeds City Council Leaders of the last twelve years - Keith Wakefield, Baroness Blake and Cllr James Lewis. He helped those Labour Leaders keep our focus on inequality and the reality of what the data was telling us. I thought I could do strategy before I met Simon. I can’t tell you the number of times we had the conversation where I’d say Simon, I want to say this about Yorkshire or Leeds. “It doesn’t really stack up.” That frown. “Let me have a look for you.” Of course, he’d always come back with something much better than I’d been able to dream up, with the advantage that it was based on fact. Never mind his legacy for Leeds and Yorkshire, his impact on people was what really mattered to him. He was a compassionate and inspirational manager, and it’s clear from the messages on Much Loved and Facebook how much so many of us have to thank him for. For being a brilliant human being – generous, warm, welcoming, funny, spirited, collaborative and always interesting. For his caring and kindness. I’ve heard loads of stories about how he helped people who worked with him through ill health, or personal tragedy. They will be forever grateful for how he helped them at the worst times of their lives. His ability to put people at ease regardless of status with humour and self deprecation was also magic. His colleagues would want to thank him for always believing in them, valuing them and giving so much positive feedback and support and freedom to do things – sometimes when people really needed a confidence boost. And there’s a knock on effect. Simon was a brilliant role model who’s helped shape the way many people manage others, and will do for years to come. We’d also thank him for being somebody who was on the right side of the argument and stood up to the dickheads. This was not as easy as it sounds in the jobs Simon did, but he did it. Despite often saying what needed to be said, he was also universally popular. He did what was right for the team. You should’ve seen his face when asked to get some briefing together for the recent King Charles visit, but he just did it and of course it was brilliant. Thanks also for that sense of humour, which it’s impossible to replicate. He was fantastic company in the pub and the best story teller: a real break from the battle for all of us. We’d laugh about the time he went to some godforsaken village in Yorkshire to consult on a new Strategy, parking his Fiesta next to Range Rovers whose rich, taxpayer subsidised owners would then castigate him for the lack of public services in the smallest and most remote hamlet in North Yorkshire. He’d always look more stylish than everyone else of course, including with those shiny Loakes. He had his faults. He was born in Lancashire. Simon didn’t see eye to eye with technology. Coffee drenched laptops, his two pointy fingers typing style, essay long emails of one letter on repeat, his inability to book a meeting room in less than an hour, and upside down presentations all added to the fun of working with him. Not many faults, let’s face it. He’d only ever spend a couple hours in the pub, always wanting to get back to see his family, usually citing the excuse of a pet emergency. To me, Simon’s family was his life’s work. His love of Sarah - his rock from which all was made possible for him, and his pride in Amy and Elinor, especially their independent spirits and interests. And of course his love of the outdoors, cycling, walking, climbing and cross country skiing. He lived such a full and fulfilling life. So when you hear about yet another Government Minister visiting the Advanced Manufacturing Park in Rotherham, or the latest announcement about offshore wind jobs in the Humber, or you’re stopping at Richmond Station for a bite to eat after the walk to Easby Abbey, or attending a gig at Leeds Arena, or talking to someone who started their career in Leeds with a helping hand into a course at a college or university, then think of Simon Foy and smile. Because he’ll have been behind it in some way. Many times in complete support, and sometimes tut-tutting to himself “I’m not sure we should’ve funded this one”. And maybe the best time to remember Simon and smile is when you’re looking out across a beautiful view of the Yorkshire Dales or the Lakes. His real legacy wasn’t in buildings or organisations or strategies. It’s in this room and in those who can’t be here. We all know the positive impact he had on us, and we will always be grateful that we knew him, and we will never forget him.

I met Simon in 2001; he was the person who showed me how to navigate Yorkshire Forward. He believed in protecting the environment but was always transparent in what he thought and warned me against expecting people to be enthusiastic about knit-your-own-muesli, sandal wearing environmentalism. He was generous to people who wanted to try to do better, but unequivocally judgmental about people whose values showed them to be self-centred or self-important. I was always slightly relieved to find him supportive! I never heard him being actively aggressive to anyone, but silence and lack of agreement spoke volumes. While our working worlds diverged after 2004, it remained a delight to get on the train out of Ilkley in the morning and spot Simon. It made the commute a good natured half hour of catching up and assessing the world. Mark has good memories of the road trip to the Alps that he, Simon and Johnny Roberts took in 2007. Sharing the driving of the Mondeo estate with four bikes on the roof, they stopped at a … basic hotel in St Quentin overnight. After a week of riding including the Croix de Fer and Alpe d’Huez, Johnny flew home and Simon and Mark, fuelled by coffee, made it back to the UK in one long run. On their last overseas cycling trip, to Girona, Simon, Clive and Mark found it easy to spend the week together, riding, talking bikes, riding, agreeing on politics, and a bit more riding. There was always another bike to discuss, a groupset to consider, some tweak to the riding position and great plans for bikepacking in Scotland taking in a few Munros. There’s huge sadness that this now won’t happen. Mark’s best recollection of the trip is Simon emerging from his room one morning after listening to radio 4 on his phone and gleefully announcing, “The Tories are doomed!” One lunchtime, hungry, the trio stopped in the first bistro they found and Simon made the other two laugh by describing how Sarah would never settle so easily for the first place you passed, when there were menus and reviews across the town to be compared, leaving the girls with lasting trauma. He loved Sarah, Elinor and Amy so much. He valued their individuality. He always marvelled at how he and Sarah had found something “that works for us”. Elinor’s resilience, Amy’s ability to party; it was easy to see how much pride he took in his daughters’ characters.

Yorkshire Dales Cross Country Ski Club was founded in 1981. It’s a small recreational club for those who love XC and those who are going to love XC. We are always optimistic. We fall under the umbrella of Snowsport England. As a club, we value friendship and skiing and roller skiing together. A love of the outdoors brings us all together and keeps us together. And this is why Simon and Sarah joined the club back in 2015. They’d already been ski touring in Scotland with the girls and had had a week of cross-country skiing, as a family, in Seefeld, Austria. Little did they know how involved they would become with the club. The aging committee were already on the look-out for younger replacements and Simon and Sarah were quickly identified as potential victims. Simon took over the role as Secretary in May 2018 and Sarah became the Treasurer at the same time. Simon’s patience was certainly tested over the years. He told me -and just about everyone else- that he didn’t enjoy doing the role …. he couldn’t wait to hand it over………We thought he was joking………Turns out he wasn’t, he really did hate it! But he did it because he knew someone had to do it. He did it because he cared about the future of Yorkshire Dales Cross Country Ski Club. And he cared about its members, many of whom had become friends. He did it because he knew he could do a good job. And he did. His role involved communicating with members and other Nordic clubs, making decisions, and negotiating the complexities of the sometimes-opaque Snowsport England requirements. He quickly demonstrated his skills and abilities- getting to the heart of problems and suggesting simple and practical solutions, communicating, and getting on with members from different backgrounds, ages, and opinions…. His thoughtful and sound advice was valued by the rest of the committee. He was always a steady rein when we became over ambitious or took on too much. Many a grandiose scheme was quickly brought to a halt by his wise words. At committee meetings, Simon always listened carefully to everyone’s opinion- you could almost hear his brain ticking over as he quietly listened to our ideas. Then he’d sum everything up so succinctly in a couple of sentences and give his opinion. And we all sat and wondered why our brains didn’t work like Simon’s brain. Simon had a fantastic ability to disagree with us all in such a kind and considerate way, that you quickly forgot he was telling you that your idea was basically flawed. He was usually right. Simons love of the outdoors and his interest in outdoor gear, meant that he naturally fell into the role of equipment officer too. He gave his time to the maintenance and repair of our roller skis, boots, and poles, with Sarah he organised discounted, bulk orders for club members, and he liaised with individual members, giving personal advice on the sort of equipment which would best suit their needs. And because he loved walking and he loved the hills and valleys of the Yorkshire Dales, Simon led several lovely walks for club members and their families. These walks brought together skiers, roller skiers and club members who no longer did these activities. People like Simon, who are willing to participate whole heartedly in the running of the club, are few, and we will miss him greatly. Club members have told us their thoughts and memories of Simon and so many have commented that what they enjoyed- and will remember- are their conversations with him- whether they were during a walk, a BBQ, whilst roller skiing round the circuit, or when cross country skiing in Norway, Finland, or Austria. Conversations ranging from equipment to cross country ski resorts, to mountaineering in Scotland, to politics and hip replacements! Newer club members have commented on how welcome he made them feel when they joined, and how interested he was in their own experiences and their development on skis or roller skis. Some of us will remember standing together with Simon, in the dark, at well below zero in snowy Akaslompolo, with the Northern lights shining brightly above us. We will remember his sense of humour- always clever, always well timed, and always delivered with a very cheeky smile. We will miss his good nature and easy manner, his friendship, his company, his knowledge, his advice, his sound judgement, his conversation. Simon enriched all our lives.

Dear Simon Thank you for…. Having a job that I could continually take the piss out of. Director of Strategy or whatever. From experience that means lots of spinning on your chair, pontificating and coming up with bright ideas that someone has to implement. Although it seems that after all that you were quite an expert spinner. So, the joke is on me. Driving Megan and I to Nottingham University open day. What a joy to listen to your views on the Midlands. Unsurprisingly you weren’t that impressed. Thank God Amy didn’t end up there. Can’t imagine you would have been too chuffed. At least she ended up on the right side of the Pennines. I couldn’t believe though, that you needed a Sat Nav to get you from Ilkley to the M1. You didn’t even look at a map before you set off. Totally disgusted. Can’t forgive you for that. The expert advice on what outdoor wear that Tony should buy. Not cheap of course but you always had the best gear and lots of it. How many boots does a man need? When did you find the time to research? Perhaps between spins on your chair? You will be pleased to know, Tony took your advice, and is now the proud owner of a pair of very expensive Meindl walking boots. So, thank you. The company. The laughter, games, meals and times together with Sarah. Opinions aired and shared. You always right. Naturally. Being Sarah’s wingman. (Or maybe she was yours. All that admin. Behind every successful man etc…). You were the Yang to her Yin. The Kirsty to her Phil. Together perfect. The memories. We will miss you. But mostly we will miss what was to come. Less time spinning in your chair. More time with friends and family. More time with Sarah and you in Scotland and Mull. More time walking, talking, laughing, playing and putting the world to rights. More time for piss taking. How can you have deprived us of that! But you, being the awkward bugger that you were, have put a bit of a spanner in the works on that one. But we will still do these things with Sarah. You will walk alongside us, as we walk out to Treshnish and Quinnish. Be warned, it will be at a slower pace. We will stop to take in the view and may even sit down for a rest. We will debate whether it is safe to walk past the cows or if we should turn back. Who will lead the way now you aren’t here? But we will walk on. We will be brave. And we will finish the day off by raising a glass to you, and saying ‘I wonder what Simon would say’. Because you would have something to say, you always did. Thank you.

In memory of Simon who I first met through our love of cycling about 20 years ago and although not a lifetime we were close friends. To me he was always kind, caring, thoughtful, supportive and never judgemental. I considered Simon to be my closest friend. We had a mutual respect and gelled over our love of cycling and the outdoors, socialist ideology and a humorous disagreement about music. He helped me enormously with my recent health problems arranging to meet for walks and chats. Our last very enjoyable cycling holiday at the end of September 2022 also with Mark based in Girona was a great success. I could talk to Simon about anything, and he was always supportive bringing a fresh perspective to a problem. Simon had a great sense of humour often dry and teasing with a wry smile but never ridiculing or humiliating. I learnt a lot from Simon, not just about politics, economics, government and intrigue but also about communication. I have a rather narrow field of knowledge which related to science and medicine. I always thought I was a good communicator listening empathetically and explaining calmly and understandably but in reality, this is just one small aspect. Simon showed me how I might be able to approach more difficult situations involving disagreement, negotiation and conflict. He was never passive or aggressive or a combination but always demonstrated a mature adult assertive style, true to himself, knew his mind and was never afraid to speak it. He sometimes portrayed himself as a tough Northern man and in many ways he was but not far under the surface he was a kind, caring, thoughtful, loving, dedicated family man always doing his best for Sarah and his daughters. He was so proud of Elinor and Amy and revelled in telling us of their different lovable personalities and achievements. He loved and worshipped his wife “The Boss” Sarah referring to her as his alpha female. Sarah asked me if I had any photos of me and Simon together and I had to confess that I am useless at selfies. Also, I wasn’t sure that Simon would have been comfortable if I had asked a waiter at our cycling cafe stop for a photo of us together! I was slightly older than Simon and although not by many years I’m certainly from a previous musical era and my evening cycling trip playlist of heavy rock and blues certainly wasn’t to his taste. He considered me a bit of a musical dinosaur preferring new wave, electronic music and punk or post punk as he would have corrected me. However, we did agree on Joy Division and the Stone Roses. He also liked northern soul as did I but I couldn’t admit it as a teenager being in the wrong gang. We often watched cycling together on trips and he laughed when I resorted to my Sean Kelly commentary impressions, but I was never entirely sure whether he was laughing at my impression or how bad they were. We had often talked about a Belgium cobbled climbs cycling trip but sadly we never got ronde to it so when I do go, I’m sure he will be with me in spirit. In many ways we were kindred spirits, and I often think of Simon, but I will always remember my best friend with great affection, his smiling face and gentle teasing.

Sarah and Simon, Simon and Sarah - everyone said, and we knew, what a genuinely great team we made. We were kindred spirits, we shared the same values, we supported each other and helped each other flourish. And we had both seen the same advert in The Guardian for various jobs in the Policy Research Unit, part of Leeds Metropolitan University - perhaps fate played a hand, it certainly became quite a love story. We started working there towards the end of 1993, both distinctly remembering our first meeting. It was such a special and rewarding time, our small disparate group of colleagues gelled professionally and personally under the brilliance of Mike Campbell – Simon greatly admired Mike, and thrived under his mentoring and support. He had found his vocation, and he was brilliant at it. After finally becoming a couple in Autumn 1994, we decided very quickly that this was ‘it’, and four months later we had bought a house together in Calverley and acquired 2 rescue kittens Sooty and Sweep – though if Simon had realised quite how much Crazy Cat Lady was lurking, he may have reconsidered all of it. Marriage and girls followed, and we moved to Ilkley to be nearer the hills…. It was all about the mountains Simon introduced me to his love of the mountains, and our whole life together was defined by being in the outdoors, especially his beloved Lake District and the Scottish Highlands. He was still climbing when we met, but quickly realised my problem with heights was going to hinder doing anything but some easy scrambling. He did manage to encourage me across the precipitous Carn Mor Dearg Arete to the top of Ben Nevis in the early days, whilst I shouted something to the effect of “never again!”. Ever since then, he very carefully and considerately planned all our subsequent walks using my very specific ‘no steep drop’ and ’scrambling difficulty’ criteria. We had lots of wonderful holidays in the Highlands, most often in a camper van piled high - the thrill never ceased of driving across Rannoch Moor and into Glen Coe, or seeing the Cairngorms range coming into view from the A9. Simon took me and the girls to the Cairngorms for the first time in August 2008 - and as we arrived in Aviemore mid-afternoon, the temperature dipped to 4 degrees. We had been promised the beach at Loch Morlich, we had buckets and spades and swimming gear at the ready – what was this place he had brought us to. We soon realised it was a very special place indeed, perfect to walk, bike, canoe, watch wildlife and just be in nature. Again, it was in the Cairngorms, a very snowy February half term 2010, that Simon arranged for the 4 of us to have a crash course in something he called Nordic skiing – and we spent the next few days joyfully carving out our own little circuits and playing around. Simon and I were hooked, and we realised we had found something else we could do together – our mutual love of cross country skiing was borne. Though it wasn’t until 2015 that we realised there was a Club right here in Yorkshire that we could join and practise all year round. Little did we know then how much we were going to be involved in the running of the Club in future years! Simon absolutely loved cross country skiing, especially in Norway, and I’m so glad it was something we found that we could enjoy together. We complemented each other Simon was all about the big picture, and my small picture attention to detail could drive him to distraction, but at least that meant that I was happy to do all the admin, which he hated. And he did the ironing and shoe cleaning, which played to his neat and tidy strengths. We planned our adventures together – we poured over the maps and guides, Simon worked out the routes, with me agonising over a 3.2 star review for a potential lunch stop. Values were crucial to him Simon was always authentic, and it didn’t matter to him where someone came from or what they did, it was what they thought (or didn’t). He cared deeply about inequality and injustice, and he really didn’t tolerate snobbery and self-important people – which he made very clear on occasions! He was such brilliant company So many people have said what interesting and entertaining conversations they used to have with Simon, about anything and everything. He was so funny and quick-witted and loved telling a good story. He had such an inquiring mind and a huge breadth of knowledge. And boy could he put the world to rights. His tongue was often firmly in his cheek Even those who knew Simon well sometimes couldn’t work out whether he was being serious or joking – there was often a fine line between. And we have probably all experienced that cheeky grin he seems to have usefully employed all his life. He was very into his music Simon enjoyed teaching Elinor and Amy what “good” music sounded like – he realised long ago that I was a lost cause. He tried to educate them with his playlists on Spotify, or by skipping through music channels until he found something that highlighted a different phase of his music tastes. He had a lot of kit! Simon’s ideal was a piece of kit for every possible occasion and every weather outcome. And a gadget for every task that would benefit from one. This is especially true of his collection of bikes. We’ve no idea how many there are, but can be sure he would have adhered strictly to one of the crucial rules of cycling – the correct number of bikes to own is N+1, where N is the number of bikes currently owned – so I’m hoping there’s not one on order somewhere. And Simon took great care to look after all his kit. A happy day at home would involve much “fettling”, where he would spend many productive hours cleaning and working on said kit with said gadgets, whilst listening to some podcast he had downloaded, or blaring out one of his playlists. He enjoyed helping people Whether it was practically with a skill (he was so unbelievably practical), sharing his experience and knowledge, or the loan of a piece of kit or gadget, Simon was really generous with his time and possessions. From encouraging and helping young budding athletes he knew, to mentoring numerous colleagues through his work, to waxing a line of skis on the club holiday, to fettling with friends’ bikes, he took great satisfaction from it all. He could be rather competitive Simon particularly liked games which involved strategy or knowledge – ideally both. It was amazing how many trivial facts he knew, so Trivial Pursuit was a favourite - as long as it was the original version with proper questions and categories. He couldn’t be doing with the revised editions, probably because he didn’t know the answers. And he loved a good quiz too, especially if it was a humanities question – as he always used to say – “you know where you are with Geography and History”. People certainly wanted to be on his team because he would usually win. And he especially enjoyed robust debate It was often a case of “good luck” when someone tried to convince Simon of a different point of view. On one rare occasion we allowed him and Panos (his Greek brother-in-law) to be in the same room, their polite chit-chat quickly transformed into a combative discussion on the comparative popularity of cycling over basketball. For every well-known basketball country Panos mentioned e.g., Spain or Italy, Simon triumphantly countered, highlighting its Tour de ‘something’ as proof of cycling’s national dominance. Competitive instinct kicked in, and neither backed down then, nor subsequently. He had so much sport to watch, listen to, and read about! In winter it was biathlon, cross-country and downhill skiing. The rest of the year – any and every type of cycling. The weeks of the Tour de France, Giro and Vuelta were his favourites - he recorded the live broadcast of every stage, plus all of the analysis and highlights, fast-forwarding through the boring bits. Whatever the sport, whatever the race, a ‘no spoiler’ news blackout was requested until he had caught up. He was very proud of his girls He adored them and their individual characters, had fantastic relationships with them and loved spending time in their company. Simon couldn’t conceal his delight when Elinor chose to study Geography for her degree, and Amy History and Spanish. Proper subjects in his opinion. Not only could he have a real understanding of their work, but it also meant he had a perfect excuse to visit Spain even more regularly. From Elinor and Amy - some of the things we will miss about our Dad in no particular order: Laughing at his own jokes Deciding whose turn it was to entertain him because he was bored Finding him rummaging through a cupboard for something sweet to eat Redoing our ironing and shoe cleaning with a smile on his face when it didn’t meet his standards Watching the same film OVER AND OVER AGAIN That he was so practical and could fix things Enjoying a takeaway curry, as long as he could keep his own dishes to himself Hearing Mum and Dad belly-laughing together at comedy tv and radio, especially when politicians were the butt of the joke. Finding him sitting in the sun having “a 5-minute break” from whatever he was doing All of us getting embarrassed by his “Tour de France” ringtone, especially when in public at the highest volume Playing a board game and him blowing on the dice for good luck Saying he wanted pasta every time he was asked what he’d like for dinner Always having to have the tv remote next to him so that he could be in charge – and ensuring whatever we were watching was in HD Telling us to put on a bloody coat when going out His disappointment when neither of us wanted to be a cyclist His enthusiasm for keeping us active and being outdoors For looking out for us, looking after us and wanting the best for us We will miss these the most. He was really looking forward to the future Simon was so excited about the trips and adventures he was going to enjoy over the coming years – bike and back packing especially, and obviously he had bought a load of new kit just for this purpose, including as he was thrilled to find, a lightweight stove that could boil water in just 90 seconds, and a rucksack for which I had to measure his back dimensions very carefully to get the exact correct fit. No pressure there. The four of us should have been on a mini-break in Ambleside this week, celebrating Simon’s 60th birthday and marking the much longed for start of his semi-retirement. He had already thought about the walks we would do of course, and the packing pile had started. He was looking forward to spending more time on adventures with friends and family, but he was also relishing the prospect of time to be alone in the mountains, for he did enjoy the solitude and peace of walking by himself, and at his own pace. And that’s just what he was doing that fateful day Sunday 11th December – it was forecast a beautiful day in the Lakes, so he had enthusiastically planned a long walk taking in Coniston Old Man, a favourite done many times before. It was just supposed to be another walk on a completely normal day.