Dearest Spike,

I was so lucky to have you in my home and my work family for almost 30 years. I now miss you in both.

The early years were filled with holiday adventures with Mel and our kids. I see glimpses of memories with Harry and Sonny dressing up as Pirates of the Caribbean in Suffolk, Ben and Maisie playing tennis with us at Centreparcs in Holland and all of them (you included) in the School of Rock band on holiday in Cherbourg - ‘Stick it to the man’ becoming the holiday buzz phrase (as well as endless Busted songs playing in the car). And then, in the small window during lockdown, when the kids were grown, we got to do it all again on the Isle of Bute. Mel said that holiday had glistened in your memory - that makes me feel happy to know. My boys loved you. You always made them feel special, you were always interested in what they were doing. And you were always fun.

Then, we also became work family. It seems strange now that your journey to law started with a LAG handbook. I loved working with you, Spike, especially the writing. It was your idea to do the duty book – the front line of housing – and so, so needed. Duty was our thing. As we wrote, you would send me your chapters full of long flowery sentences and I would send you my short ones. Then you would add words to my sentences, and I would take them out of yours. Somehow it worked and it made us laugh. I loved the way you would explain a complex area of housing law and then start a new sentence with ‘that said’ – and provide all the exceptions to that rule.

When we started to campaign together, the adventures continued - but now they were in meeting halls, on stages and even in parliament. You excelled at this, with your boundless energy, compassion and knowledge on legal aid and housing law. Your brilliance just shone. 

And in later years, our kids older, I think of you waiting for me in Wanstead Station car park to take me to yours and Mel’s lovely home where I would stay over. And then Sunday mornings, I think of you making us breakfast in your kitchen. We did try not to talk about (bloody) access to justice when I was over (we did, didn’t we?) and we would think we were being quiet (but we always failed). I can hear Mel now shouting from another room, ‘I can hear you two!’.

You were my collaborator, my conspirator and my beautiful friend. You also always had my back. How lucky was I to have you in my life. Miss you, Spike. xx

ps And don't worry, we will carry on sticking it to the man - and channelling our lovely Spike Mullings while we do it. x