I was watching the Formula 1 Grand Prix today, and after it finished I thought I'd look up on the web some information about my maternal uncle, Walter Hayes, who was quite influential in Ford's involvement in the sport (he was responsible for creating the project that produced the Cosworth engine. If you're curious, you can find out more here. He died on December 26, 2000.

I can only remember meeting "Uncle Wally" (although for some reason my mother calls him "Paddy") once. We were visiting England for my cousin's wedding, and I must have been eleven. He had a big fancy house and a swimming pool. He was nice. He gave both me and my brother a really cool black watch. I played the first few bars of Pachabel's Canon in D on his grand piano, but couldn't play any more because I hadn't learned it yet. (I can play the whole thing now, in fact I think it's the only piano piece I can still reliably get through)

He died last year, just after Christmas. He'd been hanging on all month - I'm told a lot of people do that, they hang on until after Christmas, or New Years, or whatever date is important, and then give up. I was visiting my mother at the time, and while she was trying to be cheerful, spending Christmas knowing that your brother is dying really isn't something you can smile through.

(Aside. A few weeks before Christmas, I also learned that one of the three people at the core of my "role-playing nerd friends" at school had driven off into the bush, piped the exhaust into his car, and killed himself. I still haven't really dealt with that, it just sits at the back of my consciousness sometimes.)

Anyway, I started off wanting to find out about what my uncle had done in his life, but of course all the information was tied up in obituaries - various motorsport websites saying things like "His loss will leave a giant gap in Britain's motoring and motorsports infrastructure." And all I can remember is going out with my mother the day after Boxing Day to buy a printer, so she could send the letter of all the things she'd meant to say to him over the years... and then coming home to find the email saying he'd already died.