Itʼs good to see so many of you here this afternoon for what for many of us is an unfamiliar ceremony; as we are not yet enured to funerals for members of our own generation. Adrian was a friendly and engaging man who attracted people with his energy and enthusiasm and then nurtured and cherished those relationships. He was social and loved entertaining, being entertained, eating out and spending weekends jumping from pillar to post trying to fit everything in. If all else failed, he would reach for his mobile phone and fire off texts at words per minute exceeding the personal bests of thirteen year old schoolgirls. 

This love for society continued unabated and if under supervised he would hold court at elaborate tea and cake parties at the Royal Marsden, leaving all the surrounding public spaces denuded of arm chairs. it is therefore good to see so many of you sitting here in remembrance. I remember standing by his bedside at the Trinity Hospice, through the windows we watched his beloved daughter Alana walking hand in hand with Alex on the lawn, golden in the afternoon sun. I recalled all the trips, visits, texts and calls from his friends and family that had sustained him. It seems to me that being rich in these things is the true measure of a successful life, albeit a sadly truncated one.

These riches were why Adrian fought so courageously against the progression of his disease and for so much longer than his doctors thought possible. He did "not go gentle into the good night" but instead fought hard with boundless energy; without self-pity; without moroseness or depression. He made the most of each of his remaining days despite the limitations imposed by his illness. He died as he had lived. 

An example of his fortitude: a couple of weeks ago I heard my name called on Marylebone High Street, I looked round and was surprised (and startled by the coincidence) to see Alex, John and Adrian on the lam from the Royal Marsden. Adrian was sitting in a wheelchair with a canister of auxiliary oxygen. They had all been for lunch, then shopping for summer dresses for Alana. Afterwards we went for drinks in a nearby cafe. Adrian sat there chatting happily, occasionally glancing like some dare-devil scuba diver at his remaining oxygen to make sure he had sufficient to get him back to hospital. If this wasnʼt distraction enough he, somewhat typically, twice sent his MOKKA FRAPPUCINO back to the kitchen, the second time, in collaboration with John, with some helpful notes on how it could be improved. Then oxygen teetering on the red-line, leaving cheerful happy chaos in his wake, he returned to hospital having made the very most of that day. 

This brings me to the reading. Adrian was not a religious person but I like to think was not immune to the occasional informal spiritual moment. The extract, which I stumbled upon shortly after Adrianʼs death, is from Walt Whitmanʼs Leaves of Grass. Of Walt Whitman it was said that he embraced all religions equally but believed in none. The verses below are the poetʼs thoughts after rising from a dream that had allowed him to glimpse all human endeavour, good, bad, profound and profane. 

 BOOK XXV LEAVES OF GRASS 

Then I woke softly, And pausing, questioning awhile the music of my dream, 

And questioning all those reminiscences, the tempest in its fury, 

And all the songs of sopranos and tenors, 

And those rapt oriental dances of religious fervor, 

And the sweet varied instruments, and the diapason of organs, 

And all the artless plaints of love and grief and death, 

I said to my silent curious soul out of the bed of the slumber- chamber, 

Come, for I have found the clew I sought so long, Let us go forth refresh'd amid the day, 

Cheerfully tallying life, walking the world, the real, 

Nourish'd henceforth by our celestial dream. 

And I said, moreover, 

Haply what thou hast heard O soul was not the sound of winds, 

Nor dream of raging storm, nor sea-hawk's flapping wings nor harsh scream, 

Nor vocalism of sun-bright Italy, 

Nor German organ majestic, nor vast concourse of voices, nor layers of harmonies, 

Nor strophes of husbands and wives, nor sound of marching soldiers, 

Nor flutes, nor harps, nor the bugle-calls of camps, 

 But to a new rhythmus fitted for thee, 

Poems bridging the way from Life to Death, vaguely wafted in night air, uncaught, unwritten, 

Which let us go forth in the bold day and write. 

Adrian fought very bravely against an aggressive sarcoma; please declare war upon it, in your minds, your sporting endeavours and in your tax returns. 

 SAM'S TRIBUTE: 

Adrian had an infectious energy and joi de vivre, combined with a quick wit. Time spent in his company was never dull. Adrian was candid and honest, at times, brutally so. You always knew where you stood with him. He did not suffer fools, but those who entered his confidence could expect loyalty and constancy. Adrian was a warm, kind and supportive friend - with a much missed slightly nervous laugh. Adrian enjoyed natural good looks - of which he was clearly aware - and was keen to take good care of them. He always liked to run - often in company, swim or to play tennis, a passion he was able to indulge when he took off to Valencia for a year. He loved the sun and was never happier than when sporting a light tan after a day on the beach. 

Adrian had a subtle personal style and a keen critical eye - which he used to good effect in furnishing his various homes. He was particularly fond of his Rachel Whiteread woodcuts - all the more so because he had bought them before the popularity of her work rocketed. Adrian was never in one place for too long. Always itchy footed and armed with his talent for languages, Adrian spent time living and working in France, Hong Kong and Valencia - always adapting with seeming ease to his new home. He was never short of a social invitation and his unremitting energy always enabled him to thoroughly explore his new environs. For those able to visit him or follow in his footsteps, Adrian was full of suggestions about where to go, what to see and where you had to eat. Adrian was bright, competitive, diligent and motivated, applying himself to his legal studies at university, and subsequently his work as a lawyer with commitment and flair. His fastidious, at times, pedantic attention to detail always made him seem supremely well suited to his chosen career path - though he was careful not to let work dominate his life, as it so easily could. 

As is evident from the many gathered here today, Adrian's many attributes made him extremely popular. He seldom lost a friendship, once gained, and was enviably good at sustaining friendships, notwithstanding his wanderlust and not infrequent absences overseas. For my part, I suspect that one skill that enabled him to do this so effectively was his faithfulness as a correspondent. Before the advent of e-mail, Adrian often put pen to paper in letters and postcards to tell of his exploits overseas. He had a talent for translating his wit and energy to the written page - latterly by e-mail - such that a letter from Adrian was always something to look forward to. Adrian was also incredibly good at simply picking up the telephone when he was in town and getting people out for a drink or meal or film. 

His idea of a good night out almost invariably involved good food - either cooked at home or out at a favourite restaurant or trip to the cinema - passions he continued to indulge throughout his life.  Adrian always had high expectations of himself and others - especially those he went out with. He was never one to settle for second best. Given his exacting standards, he did sometimes wonder if he would find someone to share his life with, though this was undoubtedly very much his hope. Meeting and subsequently marrying Alex - whom he so obviously adored, was therefore a source of great happiness to Adrian - and frankly relief to the rest of us! 

In a slight corruption of the truth, Adrian liked to claim that Alex had been the one to propose - suggesting they marry on Alana's first birthday. Fortunately, Alex was willing to indulge him in this - even though, in truth, he had earlier suggested they marry on his 40th birthday, only to withdraw the proposal when his sister Ellen beat him to this idea. 

Adrian could not have wanted for more in a companion. I remember vividly Adrian telling me that Alex was pregnant. We were sitting in a pub in Holborn and he was obviously a little shell shocked (though thoroughly thrilled) by this somewhat unplanned development! Adrian embraced Alex's growing bump and subsequently fatherhood with his characteristic exuberance and enthusiasm. He was suitably wide eyed and amazed at Alana's home birth and I still smile when I think of his text announcing Alana's arrival - 'Father, Mother and daughter all doing well.' 

In his e-mails to me from Hong Kong, Adrian never failed to mention Alana's developing skills and achievements, in which he took such obvious pride - including her start at kindergarten. More than this, he so clearly delighted in Alana's 'cheeky, cheerful' nature, as he put it, and her sense of mischief and rebellion. He loved the fact that Alana was spirited and enquiring - much like he. 

Without wishing to dwell upon Adrian's illness, it is impossible for me to think of Adrian now and not to think of his strength and bravery in the face of an overwhelming disease. Certainly in my company, Adrian spoke of his boredom at becoming unwell, its inconvenience, and his frustration, on occasions, with its interference with plans made - but he never expressed any self pity about what had befallen him. With unconditional support, Adrian carried on living life as fully as he could, ever adapting to the limitations of his illness, and enjoying himself. In Hong Kong, he continued to work as much as his treatment would allow (something he wanted to do) - taking his Blackberry into hospital during courses of chemo. He and Alex were able to spend a few precious and wonderful days in Bali last Autumn - where he spoke of the breathtaking sacred valleys and wrote that he had enjoyed possibly his best meal ever (a compliment indeed from Adrian) - all organic home grown Balinese food. 

In more recent days, notwithstanding his failing health, Adrian made it out to L'Entrecote (one of his favourite restaurants) on a number of occasions - including with his parents and Alex for lunch - managing to down steak and chips and, subsequently, with his brother John, before a shopping trip when he picked out a few choice dresses for Alana! He continued to enjoy his weekend FT until the end. In common with many, I am sure, my last text from Adrian, sent only a couple of days before he died, was to arrange meeting up. 

ELLEN'S TRIBUTE: 

I wanted to say something to celebrate Adrian's incredibly energetic and enthusiastic character which led to his immensely interesting and varied life. So many thoughts and memories kept popping into my mind- and you  know how you just have to jot those thoughts down before another pops up? So I grabbed the nearest bit of paper and scribbled away. This paper turned out to be a booklet entitled " 1000 ways to save time and money". And it made me smile because we all know how dear these two things were to Adrian. 

We enjoyed his boyish delight for a bargain, and many will have experienced his arguments with taxidrivers over the price of a cab ride, wearing them down with a charming grin until his embarrassing tenacity won the day. And we all suffered his impatience with what he perceived as time wasting. Up early in the morning so as not to waste a moment of that day. He was always active always full of energy. For what seemed like years when he was little, he would wake in the night and fight with John his twin brother until somebody went in and shouted louder... 

A great gymnast and swimmer at school- he and John flic-flacked and cartwheeled along the sand in the Isle of White and then the south of France in those hot summers of 75 and76 that we remember. He was tall and strong but slim and stylish rather than beefy and when they played rugby at school for the first time he came home and announced "stupid game, very dangerous. Not doing that again" and he didn't. 

In fact Adrian always did what he wanted to do, because he could. Whenever we said at home "I wish I could do that" my mother always said "well why don't you" and we went out and tried. Adrian drew; he took wonderful photos and signed and framed them and hung them on his walls. Of course. He created beautiful places to live adorned with deco pieces he'd picked up in Paris. Woe betide anyone who messed up his carefully manicured space and stylish gardens. I was horrified by my 5yr old daughter who'd scribbled on his white walls. She'd never done this before and I didn t believe him so he said 'Who else is called Phoebe'. Shame and horror welled up inside me but never one to forget Adrian was happily revenged when Alana returned the favour years later - I'm sure he'd egged her on! 

He also loved cooking especially cakes and in the last few days ate nothing but DARK chocolate cake. Adrian didn't just do what he wanted he also said what he wanted - he had opinions and that's just it for me. So many nowadays are frightened to say what they think to tell it as it is but not Adrian and that's what I appreciated the most even if I didn't always agree with him. 

Thank goodness he became a lawyer. He was forever saying "you can't say that its libellous or slander" then promptly telling me how I could say it without risk of prosecution. He lived and worked in Paris using his excellent French. Then off to Hong Kong for adventure and to discover Asia. Back to London some years later where he worked v. hard night and day...so naturally, one morning he handed in his notice, packed his racket and was off to Valencia to play tennis; eat tapas and learn spanish. The parents were beside themselves "he won't be able to get another job". But he did. He breezed back to work for Egg . Then One night in the pub Alex walked passed and he turned to friends and said "that's the type of girl I'd like to marry". So he persuaded her to take his card by feigning to bump into her ... being intrgued she did contacted him. I remember the evening he introduced me to Alex... she left the table briefly, he turned and said " isn't she gorgeous? You'd never know she was German would you" 

He didn't hang around and soon Alana, "the cleverest daughter ever" came along. He seemed amazed that the nursery said her vocabulary was way advanced and that she never stopped talking. But of course what would we expect from such parents. We were with him in Hong Kong in November when he received the call from Bute school announcing Alanas luck; one of only 17 out of hundreds to be drawn at random for a place at the school. It was a great moment and he cried with relief and joy; saying he knew she'd be ok now. 

So as my mother said, Why did it have to happen to Adrian? He's so alive. And that's it. He didn't stop living right up to the end. And we ve all got stories of his outrageous words and deeds his fantastic character so tell those stories and smile and that would make Adrian very happy.