As kids our early years, to just before becoming teenagers was spent in Cheshunt in Hertfordshire. As kids it was brilliant; which meant for parents it must have been a nightmare.

Our playground was the local gravel pits and railway lines. We learnt a lot of lessons there. If you throw rocks at each other, eventually someone ends up going to hospital for stiches to their head – usually me. If you put a penny on the railway line it gets flattened by a train, but its not appreciated by railway staff and they call out the police. If you play with matches in dry grass by the side of the railway line, it catches fire, and the railway staff call the police. If you decide to build massive greenhouses by the side of gravel pits where there are lots of stones, don’t be surprised if children throw stones at them. House of Rochford then phone the police!!!

Youthful high spirits I guess you could call it – not quite famous five. More like the flipping foursome or something similar. Myself, Richard, Neil Hand and Gary Cracknel.

All that was missing was a dog, and we sorted that out as this was the era of red bus rovers and no train ticket barriers. One Sunday we disappeared off and travelled in to Petticoat Lane. Little black dog purchased for about 50p was bought home on a bit of string and a story concocted about seeing someone over the gravel pits about to drown her. We were about 8 or 9 at the time.

We moved from Cheshunt to Winchmore Hill for our teenage years. Here we discovered truant; smoking and underage drinking. There was some schooling in there too, but I must say neither Richard or I particularly liked going; bit of a distraction to the fun things we could be doing – I think dad enjoyed the trips to see Mr Searl, Richard’s form teacher. And Judy was with the ‘brainies’ so we were a constant challenge

As well as discovering beer and cigarettes, we also got into our love of things petrol related. For some bizarre reason that I cannot work out, dads company allowed children to drive their company cars. The fun we had with the silver Ford Capri 2.0 S and the subsequent Vauxhall Cavalier CDi would make dads hair go greyer.

Richard missed out on the Capri, but more than made up for it in the Cavalier. A couple of memorable occasions were going over a 10 mph humpback bridge at 30 and getting good air. Not good for the front valance on a Cavalier. And a second one was going over an island in the middle of the road. On the positive side he straddled it which meant no damage to the wheels, but the oil sump was just that little bit too low and caught on the kerb.

He followed on with his own and more sporty company cars which must have only done a few hundred miles on the tyres with all their wheel spinning. The terrifying Fiat Uno turbo which seemed to be always trying to launch itself at the car in front, and then going to the ever slightly more refined Renault 5 turbo. Motorbikes also made their appearance to help with the daily commute – and in one unfortunate incident with a Fireblade and a car in Green Lanes, 2 broken wrists and a day or so in hospital.

He was also passionate about Spurs. As a family we have always been Spurs fans, in fact the ‘great’ Ian Moores bought our house in Cheshunt in 1976 when he moved from Stoke to Spurs. Both Richard and I were very proficient in forging his signature by the time we got to Winchmore Hill. Richard’s passion sometimes got the better of him and Sam would tell us that when watching Spurs on telly he would have his hands jammed into his trouser pockets. If they scored they would end up round his ankles and if they missed they would end up near his armpits.Worrying outcomes either way

Outside of football and petrol stuff, Richard also had a passion for comedy and an almost encyclopaedic memory of sketches from the likes of Peter Kay; Monty Python; Fawlty Towers; Harry Enfield; and the Fast Show. He could act out whole scenes, or just drop one liners into a conversation and you would sometimes have to rack your brains for the context.

Miss him every day