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After many weeks of practice, the boys and girls of the 4th and 5th Grade at Newington Elementary School put on a wonderful performance of "The Best Christmas Pageant Ever" last Friday night. Paul played one of the 3 leading characters, Charlie, who's Mother had been given the responsibility of organizing their church nativity play after Mrs. Armstrong broke her leg. Nobody, especially Charlie, wants to participate. The Herman children (the roughest kids in the neighborhood) are the only volunteers and everyone thinks the performance will be a disaster. But the story of the birth of baby Jesus begins to change them all.

We love Christmas, but this one will always be different. After spending the previous week in England saying goodbye to Dad, Christmas Eve was spent in an airplane over the Atlantic Ocean. Even though I was not at the Christmas Eve candlelight service at Cathedral I was certainly there in spirit and I arrived home safely shortly before midnight. I think this Christmas will always be remembered by the look on Kelly's face when she opened her main gift from us, a cell-phone. That picture was priceless. We had a wonderful dinner with the Wyatt's

The Rollings Middle School "Dream Chorus" took a field trip to New York City, during Spring Break, to perform at the Statue of Liberty. 2 buses full of 11-14 year old's and their parent chaperones left Charleston early Monday morning. After a flat tire, and several bathroom breaks, we finally arrived at the Hampton Inn in Secaucus NJ shortly before midnight. On Tuesday we toured Rockefeller Center, Radio City Music Hall, Ground Zero and we went to the top of the Empire State Building. After touring the Metropolitan Museum of Art we caught the Ferry to Ellis Island where the kids performed under "difficult" conditions at the Statue of Liberty. We then went to dinner and later to the Broadway Show, "All Shook Up" which was awesome. We left New York early Thursday morning and spent another long day on the bus traveling back home to Charleston. We arrived back at school sometime after midnight a very tired bunch.

"BT's" or Basic Training is a wonderful activity for boys which teaches good christian values and a healthy respect for authority. The boy's meet weekly for a fun time under the supervision of a great group of counselors. At the end of the semester is the "Father Son Campout" at Santee State Park which was attended by about 50 people. It was freezing cold the first night but it stayed dry except for one boy who slipped and fell at the edge of the lake. We went fishing and boating on Lake Marion, and ate several hamburgers and hot dogs courtesy of Jeff Litchenburg, Brandon Parish and his dad, John. We had a Treasure Hunt and rode bikes all around the park. We'll definitely have to do this again.

On Saturday February 25th, 2005, The Vintage Dricers Club of America held its season opening races at the Carolina Motorsports Park in Kershaw, SC. The weather was perfect as about 70 cars warmed up during practice. There were 2 practice rounds for each class, followed by qualifying, and then a 30 minute sprint. The racing was competitive but friendly and a great time was had by all who were lucky enough to be able to attend.

It is often said that children don't appreciate their parents until it's too late. Well, I guess we're no exception. It's only in the last few weeks in through talking to people, reading the many messages of sympathy we've received, seeing the turn-out at the cremation and at today's celebration, thinking about what to say here (and then trying to condense it into something suitable) - that I've come to realize what a remarkable man Dad was. You see, to us he was just "there". He was happy to play a supporting role in the family drama and to fit in with what others wanted. The words "I'm easy" were his catchphrase. But all the time he took a keen interest in what we were up to; he was proud of our achievements and he always made time to answer our questions and to share his experiences with us. He was a gentle man in every sense of the word. He was always polite and kindly; in fact, I don't think I ever heard him say a bad word about anyone. He was naturally quiet, but he would talk intelligently to anyone about almost anything. He had a gift for putting people at their ease by listening and taking a real interest in what they had to say. I think this is one of the reasons why he was held in such affection. Nothing ever ruffled him. Mark tells of when he came over from the USA for the surprise party we'd arranged for Dad's 70th birthday. He arrived, out of the blue, at Grosvenor Place, and as he came in Dad walked past. He looked up, said "Hi son" and carried on. That was Dad all over. But, of course, there was much more to him than that. We knew he was very clever - his Oxford degree and the deep knowledge of history to which Christopher referred were testimony to that. He could have used his intellectual gifts in some high-powered and well-paid job in one of the professions. But that wasn't for him. To him, work was a means to an end - a way of providing for the family he loved, of giving us the best education he could, but leaving time for him to pursue his other interests. There was fishing, of course, about which Christopher spoke so eloquently. I think he was slightly disappointed that none of us caught the bug; but that meant we didn't appreciate just how good a fisherman he was. One of his fishing buddies wrote of him as "constantly refining his many ways of deceiving the fish". He always seemed to come home with a good catch, even when others failed. But we shouldn't be surprised, because whatever he turned his hand to, he did it properly. Whether it was tying flies, every one a work of art, that battered black box of his a treasure trove of feathers, hooks and other paraphernalia; or making model ships in that Aladdin's cave of a loft at Grosvenor Place - they were much more than a kit to him, he wouldn't just make do with the plastic rigging that came in the box, so he tied his own, referring to old books and pictures to make it as authentic as possible; or researching and collecting details for the family archive, every entry meticulously logged and indexed for future reference. And there was his reading. Of course, he was a voracious bookworm; no sooner had he put up another set of shelves than they were groaning under the weight of yet more books. But he didn't just skim read - oh no. I swear he could remember every twist of every plot of every book he'd ever read. His memory was astonishing, and he loved to recite at length from the poems of Hilaire Belloc - word perfect, of course. He would delight in reminding us that the chief defect of Henry King was chewing little bits of string, or that it is the business of the wealthy man to make employment for the artisan. And then there were his limericks oh but none of those are suitable to recite in church! Dad belonged to a number of book clubs. They seem to be struggling to come to terms with his death and their profits will be badly hit. A letter arrived from one of them this morning, which I must share with you and Dad would have loved it. It read "Dear Mr H-D, We understand that you no longer live at the above address. [Factually faultless!] Please notify us of your new address as soon as possible." We're still trying to think of a suitable reply! And he was a keen traveler. He'd seen quite a bit of the world in his younger days; his childhood had taken him to Malta, Bermuda, Canada and Jamaica, and he'd had an extended tour of duty with Shell in East Africa. Again this had gone on hold while his family came first, but we were pleased that after he retired - and especially after his operation in 1997 - he was able to visit many new and exotic places. Christopher has mentioned some of them; I'd add to the list Patagonia, north Russia and most recently Alaska, all with rod and tackle in hand. It's as if he knew his time was limited; he'd been given a new lease of life, and he was damn well going to enjoy it while he could. There were more trips planned, but it wasn't to be. He'd fought off the cancer before, but this time we think he knew his number was up. But there wasn't any anger or bitterness; he accepted what was coming to him, quietly and without complaining. He was a proud man; he wasn't going to admit that he was suffering, he didn't like asking for help and he definitely didn't want our pity. We saw this at the family gathering in Berkhamsted in October; it was obviously a great effort for him, but he was determined to be there and enjoy himself, and there he was on the sofa, chatting away about old times with the people he loved most. He wasn't an overtly religious man; he didn't go to church or talk about God a lot. But there was definitely something inside him - you might call it faith - sustaining him and pointing the way in those last weeks and months. So Dad, you're at peace now. The fish in Wimbleball Reservoir can rest easy, but I hear there are some plump specimens in the crystal river upstairs who are quaking in their boots. Thanks for all you did for us, for all the sacrifices you made for us. You touched so many lives, and we're privileged to have had you as our father. For the last word, to paraphrase Hilaire Belloc: "Your sins may not have been scarlet, but your books were certainly read". By John Hughes D'Aeth

Planning approval was obtained and a contractor was hired to build the new deck. First the old stairs had to be removed and then the framing of the new multi-level deck began. With framing completed all the footers were dug, firmly cemented into the ground and bolted into the frame. Next step was to lay the deck boards and begin construction of the new stairs. Lastly we installed the railings and stair handrail, replaced the boards on the top deck and hung lattice for privacy. The entire project took less than 2 weeks to complete. Thanks for all your excellent hard work, Jeff.

Paul makes 'A' Honor Roll at Newington Elementary. Paul and Sarah perform in the school musical, Music Man. Sarah is hospitalized and Kelly sings at the Rollings Middle School Vocal Arts concert.

In July 2003, during our visit to Williamsburg, VA, we spent a few days at Busch Gardens in VA

During the summer of 2003 we visited Williamsburg, VA

Hanging stockings and opening presents