I was in two minds about blogging about this because it is a personal matter for someone still very dear to me, yet I think it is the best way for me to show my sorrow. I have written here before about the special school I went to: it was for fairly severely disabled children aged between two and eighteen. When I was in the first year of the middle school, aged about six or seven, I had a teacher called Mrs Pilkington, a very warm, kindly lady who did her best to teach me how to spell. I’ll always remember that school year as the one my Dad read The Hobbit to me and my brothers, and I became so obsessed with it that I spent most of my free time at school trying to rewrite it on an old BBC computer. To her great credit, Mrs. P saw the benefit of this and encouraged me, correcting my spelling as I went.

Mrs. Pilkington had a son, Stuart, who at the time was in his twenties, I think. For reasons I’m not sure of, Mrs. P invited Stuart into the class to help support me and my classmates. He was a great guy: warm, caring, and someone I grew to look up to. He became something of a brotherly figure, encouraging me in my work but not afraid to have fun. I remember Stuart once pretending to tear up the print out of the story I had been working on for so long.

I hadn’t seen Stuart or his mum in years, of course – not since school. I’m in contact with Mrs Pilkington on facebook, however, and we often exchange messages and comments. Very sadly, that is where Mrs Pilkington announced the death of her son last week. There wasn’t much detail, yet I know how close she was to her son, and my heart goes out to her. I’m writing this to convey my deep, deep sorrow: Linda Pilkington played an enormous part in my childhood and education; she did not deserve this news in any way. I’ll always remember her classes as places of warmth, support and encouragement, and her son as someone I had a lot of respect for. I know how much he will be missed.