I’m sorry that I wasn’t able to come to the funeral today so at 11.30am lit a candle thought about you both and wrote this. My spirit and my heart were and are with you. Although I knew, Jef only in the capacity of counselling/therapy I had the privilege of working with both him and Steph from the beginning of January when they both came to see me following the devastating news of Jef’s illness, so this is written in the context of knowing them both within the confines of my counselling room. We all worked together with a view to preparing them both for what might lie ahead. I have to say that I found them very inspiring in the way that they handled the situation, in both practical and emotional ways. Through the sadness and pain, with some days being better than others, I saw their strength, their deep love and concern for one-another, their open and honest communication with each-other and with me, as they shared, amongst other things, some of their life experiences and their mutual love of their cats, as well as interesting conversations on a variety of topics, in the main, due to Jef’s lively and enquiring mind. Although hope was given and then taken away by the medical profession from time to time, despite their natural disappointment, they remained as positive as one can be while still being authentic. Jef, was taken away so young but the memory of him, first, tall and with a strong and lovely presence, with his long luxurious dark hair, then with his neatly short cropped hair and his beautiful big cat print t-shirts, sitting opposite me with his wonderful, caring and loving wife Steph, will always remain with me. Rest in peace Jef, my love is with you and with you dear Steph and your beloved feline friends

I’m still not sure what to say, it feels surreal that he’s gone. Its the moments I remember : From puns about T-rex’s to surprisingly accurate impressions of Richard Burton (“no one would have believed…”) , to the discussions about just about everything and anything, to the games full of laughter , and even the occasional argument where neither of us would quite admit we were wrong… it doesn’t seem possible we’ll never have that again. I shall miss him in ways I can’t really express.

It’s taken me a long time to write this. I didn’t know how to write it, and perhaps I was hoping just a little bit that if I didn’t do it, then this wasn’t real. So much to say – where to start? Maybe back at the beginning. The first time I met Jef was when David Clover, head of the team, popped into my office and said there was someone new he wanted me to meet. So I went across the corridor and there was Jef. There was of course – the hair. So. Much. Hair. And the beard. And the black T-shirt. And a long black coat hanging behind him – there may have been studs on the coat, I can’t remember – there definitely should have been studs. ‘This is going to be interesting,’ I thought (‘interesting’ in this context meaning ‘oh dear lord, this is going to be a disaster – get me out of here!’) Turns out, I couldn’t have been more wrong; Jef was quiet, friendly and well-spoken. But in my defence he did admit to liking a blast of ‘Rammstein‘ every now and again. Though the photos of the kittens on the wall behind him should have clued me in. Sherlock Holmes I am not. He also turned out to be a fantastic work colleague –frighteningly competent at turning his hand to any task he was given and somehow never seeming to realise just how good he was at making the near impossible possible. Praising Jef was really hard work; he never wanted to admit to being the smartest person in the room when all the evidence said ‘yeah, you are’ – and he physically cringed with public praise. He would hate all this fuss. But he was smart and he deserved all the praise he got, and so much more. Somehow I’ve got this far and somehow not mentioned technology; which when discussing Jef is something of a miracle. To say he loved technology is a bit like saying a fish loves water. He adored ‘new shinies’ and the possibilities they opened up. It could be cameras, game consoles, home security, TVs (oh my god, the stories of his TVs – all of which looked like they escaped from ‘2001’). So yeah, we ended up queuing in the wet, dark and cold for Xboxes and PlayStations and iPhones – I’m sure it made sense at the time. And of course he was the ultimate Apple fanboy – making the rest of us look like rank amateurs. Every product announcement, every keynote address, Jef would be there getting excited about some new feature he knew would make life better. If there was a hidden feature on a Mac, Jef knew it – and so many of us relied on him to get out of situations when ‘it just works’ turned into ‘it *just* works’. Outside of work, we had so many good times – movies and television where we could have much more fun vigorously disagreeing on whether it was good or hot garbage. Even when we were diametrically opposed to one another, Jef never took umbrage; never punched down; never held a grudge – I could learn a lot from his attitude towards others. There was the theatre; comedy shows; ‘Halo’ death matches (confession: I sucked!); festivals and any number of great (and not so great) meals – often in restaurants that strangely closed down a few days later. Or maybe never actually existed – with Jef, the weird and wonderful was never far away. He adored the weird and wonderful in all of its shapes and forms; often choosing to send utterly terrifying links late in the evening knowing full well that I have next to no self-control. [Evil cackle] Jef met his (perfect) match with Stephanie – he was rapturously in love from the very start and they (and the cats) were perfectly suited to one another. Those creepy late night emails and messages somehow got even more creepy when Stephanie’s imagination was let loose. Jef was thrilled and terrified when Stephanie began researching the horrors of the Uncanny Valley for her PhD and then decided to turn her hand to writing the sort of fiction that would have Stephen King whimpering under the duvet. They were an incredible, loving couple – generous and kind to everyone who knew them. That's what real love is. Then, late last year everything took a darker turn. It was one of our strange meals where the highlight *should* have been the eccentric service; but Jef said that he might have a health issue. He made light of, but it was clear this was probably serious; and then it got worse early in the New Year when he learned that he had the most aggressive form of cancer imaginable. Rather than hide away, he decided to tell me. I was struggling for something – anything - to say when he sent a message: ‘It’s getting harder to prove I’m not an Apple fanboy: I’ve got the same rare neuroendocrine cancer that killed Steve Jobs’. With that, he shocked me, made me laugh, made me cry, made me laugh again – all in about thirty seconds. And that’s how he dealt with the past year – not once did I hear him get angry or become self-pitying. He went through any number of treatments and even as things got darker, he kept sharing silly videos, discuss his latest science fiction discoveries and get excited about new technology. Right to the end, he kept being himself. Quiet, smart, helpful, forgiving loving, funny - no, make that very funny, brave – that’s how I’d describe Jef to someone who was never lucky enough to meet him. And perhaps we could all be ‘a bit more Jef’. It was a hell of a journey. Sorry we never got to go to Iceland to show one another our favourite places. Sorry that we won't have the chance to share another strange meal, watch a silly movie, never share a stupid Reddit thread in the small hours - and a thousand other things - again. Too short a journey - but it was so much fun while it lasted.