Steve and I were in the same group of friends through our “free and easy” years in the 80’s and early 90’s after leaving school.  He and I were part of a group that travelled to the USA a couple of times, in 1988 and 1990.  The first trip was the more memorable as five of us hired a camper van and travelled East to West from New Orleans to San Francisco.  Steve appointed himself “local laws guru” for the trip, and as we passed each State border he’d refer to our travel guide and recite to us the new rules regarding liquor consumption and any quirky bye-laws he thought we should be aware of.  I don’t know whether any of it actually changed how we behaved, it certainly didn’t seem to change any of Steve’s habits, but at least if trouble ensued we couldn’t say we didn’t know what we were doing.
Steve also house-shared with another friend and me in West Hampstead for a while around then.  After that we saw a bit less of each other as he set himself up in St. Albans and I around Harrow.  That said, there were plenty of catch-ups, and my girlfriend, who became my wife, was certainly impressed with his local celebrity status at the Lower Red Lion.
Fiona and I emigrated to Australia in 2001 and I guess I’ve only seen Steve less than 10 times since then.  What I always appreciated though was that he never failed to contact me on my birthday (card in the post until social media made it far easier).  Every year once it was Facebook, I’d get a message “Hey, Michael, happy birthday, hope you’re well” without fail, which was more than most of my friends from the old days managed, and equally more than I managed in the other direction.
I last saw Steve when we caught up for a drink in Hemel Old Town last August.  It was lovely settling back into the old routine of a few pints, laughs and memories in the beer garden, and the evening went by very quickly.
To David, Doreen and Kaye, I wish you strength, and please know that I am very grateful to have had Steve in my life.