I can't actually remember Harry asking me for April's hand in marriage but he did, and I certainly wouldn't have given it a single thought. Harry, you made my little girl feel special for 21 years and you gave me two gorgeous grandsons for which I'll always be grateful. I shall miss your massive hugs, I love you.

My reading in the church...

We weren’t meant to be doing this.
Not now.
Not for Harry.

Harry wasn’t a
“dominate the room”
kind of guy.

He’d sit, listen,
take it all in…
and then, out of nowhere,
he’d be dancing the floss
in the middle of the room
while everyone else carried on talking.

And if you got him on the right subject,
you were in.

Because that quiet listener
suddenly had plenty to say -
with impressive knowledge and insight…
and, if we’re honest,
for quite a long time!

But if there’s one thing
everyone here knows…
it’s that Harry loved April.

Not always in a grand, showy way,
but in that steady, certain way
that started when they were kids
and never once let go.

They grew up together.
Properly grew up.
Side by side.

And somehow…
it just worked.
It always worked.

And then came George, followed by Jack.

And if you want to understand Harry —
really understand him —
you just had to watch him - with his boys.

The patience.
The time.
The quiet way he showed up
again and again.

And yes…
occasionally bending the rules.
A slightly-too-scary film.
A game that maybe Mum wouldn’t approve of.

But always knowing exactly
where the line was…
and how to bring them back
with a word,
a look,
or a laugh.

Harry will live forever in those boys.

He made things feel safe.
He made things feel fun.
And he made being a dad
look like the best job in the world.

And not forgetting Tallulah -
who was very much Harry’s dog.

They had a routine, every time he came home -
first a welcome in the hall,
then a dash halfway up the stairs,
and the grand finale on the bed.

They simply adored each other.

Now… Harry had his quirks.

And one of them -
that I never fully understood -
was the socks.

Always odd socks.
Always.

But not just odd…
they had to connect.
A theme.
A link.
Some kind of logic
only Harry could see.

And today…
seeing so many of you wearing odd socks…
that feels exactly right.

And then there was the family humour.

The constant search -
almost like a sport -
for the perfect moment to say:
“that’s what she said.”

Usually when you least expected it.
Usually when it would catch you completely off guard.

And almost always…
Harry was right there,
ready with a classic.

He also loved his whisky.
And he loved to talk about it.

But that was his thing.
And it was something he shared
with his Dad, Glen.

The two of them, after work,
just around the corner on the Green,
putting the world to rights over a wee dram.

Those small, everyday moments
that turn out to be everything.

Harry was the youngest of three —
with Wayne and Becky looking out for him —
and with Glen and Jackie…

who gave him everything
a son could hope for.

And who, like all of us,
are feeling this more than words can ever say.

And then… of course…
there’s how he arrived in the world.

Because only Harry…
could be born in the front seat of a car,
somewhere around a roundabout,
apparently making a rather dramatic entrance
into the footwell…

It’s chaotic.
It’s unexpected.
It’s slightly unbelievable.

And it is completely, unmistakably… Harry.

And for us…
Harry was everything you could hope for
in a son-in-law.

Kind.
Dependable.
Loving.
Funny - often when you needed it most.

And absolutely, unmistakably
one of us.

So yes… this feels wrong.
Far too soon.
Far too unfair.

But if Harry were here -
and you can almost hear it -
he wouldn’t want long faces.

He’d want stories.
He’d want laughter.
He’d want us to look after each other.

And most of all…
he’d want us to look after his three.

April.
George.
Jack.

Because that was his world.

And nothing -
not even this -
changes that.

So we’ll carry him forward.

In the stories.
In the laughter.
In the odd socks.
In the perfectly timed, inappropriate jokes.

In every small moment
where he will continue to show up.

And if we get it right…
there’ll be just a bit of mischief in it too.