Alan was a master of camouflage. At first meeting you would never have guessed that he loved Jenny so deeply, that his sons and their families meant so much to him, and that he was so generous-hearted and tender. He would say that his hair colouring, the stammer that he struggled to conquer through his life, and the loss of his brother in the war had made him hard, but don’t you believe it. Behind all the bluster he was a very caring man. I am proud to call him a friend. Jenny was the perfect wife for him. Of course he knew it, though Jenny was so often the victim of his quick wit and lively mind. She provided the caring, solid home in which Philip, David and Steven grew up, and from which he developed an interesting career in Insurance travelling widely. He would do anything for his family. More recently he willingly played an active grandfather role, driving all over for Richard and Laura as they were growing up. He was always keen to keep us up to date with the older girls, Anya and Zilla, and Claire too. He and Jenny generously invited us into their home. It was Alan who, 17 or 18 years ago, drove us on our first trip up the Wye Valley (where we now live). He invited us to sail with them on the Sharpness Canal and the river in Bristol… to visit them in Malta… and for many meals both inside and outside our homes. Hospitality and friendship for Alan were sincere and generous, and conversation flowed. Alan was active in church throughout his life and he often spoke of earlier days in scouts. Soon after we arrived at Nailsea I recognised his unusual capabilities – not the least of which was that he quite often timed my sermons and told me at the door… the monkey! Alan was never a yes man; he knew his own mind and was honest in his opinions. Yet behind all the bluster Alan was a man of great compassion. If he saw a great need or undertook any role, he would work tirelessly. He was absolutely reliable, confidential and fair-minded. In control of the gifts of money for the Nailsea Methodist Church building scheme his records were immaculate and absolutely confidential. As treasurer for the lunch club he was keen to hold adequate reserves in case of a breakdown; he was not just a clerk, but a supporter. The Youth Centre, youth workers and young people had a very special place in his heart, and he was always ready to give his time and practical support. He never pulled his punches in discussion, and never dreamt of padding the truth. I knew I could be absolutely honest with him and he would never gossip. He was surprisingly intuitive and often noticed when I was preoccupied and would give a word of encouragement. He was of course an anchor for Jenny in her arts and crafts, and cared for the members and attended to the admin for her various groups. Alan was a man of immense courage and he didn’t suffer fools gladly. I still smile as I remember his visit to the consultant after having a cancerous kidney removed. The consultant asked if they had taken out a gland connected to the kidney. Alan replied: “I don’t know. I was anaesthetised at the time!” That was so typical of him! But he was humble too. I remember his real surprise that so many people visited him in hospital. I am pleased that we were able to spend some time with Alan and Jenny in Spain last year, to renew the friendship, but I give thanks to God that he is now released all the shackles of ill health and immobility. I also give thanks to God for the many people who have benefited, often without knowing it, from his tireless and generous help and support throughout his life. Jenny, you married a good man. Alan Fiest was an unusual character… behind that bluff exterior there was a heart of gold.