My friend, Glenn died of lymphoma over 20 years ago, when he was in his thirties. We were flatmates for a long time. He was a talented theatre designer and spent many hours sitting at the kitchen table listening to Radio 4 and building models of theatre sets with handmade miniature furniture or scenery.

One day I heard him answering all the questions for Brain of Britain correctly.

Was he a genius?

No, he had just sat at that table so long that he was responding to the repeat.

When Torville and Dean were winning the Olympics, he was elegantly sliding me, by the arm, while I lay on the floor, as we swished around round the kitchen lino, performing our own version.

So whenever I hear Brain of Britain or Ravel’s Bolero, I always think of Glenn.

He is forever in my heart and in my memory.

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