This morning I learned that my dear friend died on Saturday afternoon. Her husband is too devastated to talk - it was her daughter-in-law who rang me.

The usual clichés are meaningless and futile but there are so many memories from the  twenty nine years we knew each other that will live on forever: the many holidays we shared as a foursome, including one in Italy when we knocked back a bottle of whisky and a large amount of Valpolicella while playing cards one evening and woke up with  terrific hangovers. Then there were the superb parties and dinners she gave. Her pastry was legendary and she always produced a wonderful array of desserts. Her husband is also a great cook and usually looked after the main course while the starter was a joint effort.

She carried on working (she was the headteacher of a first school) until she was well over 60 because she loved her job and adored the children - even though there were lots of 'difficult' ones in her area. She learned self defence (a bit of a necessity) and after retirement (by which time she was a black belt) she started classes in Choi for the  kids, including a special one for 'awkward teenagers'.

As someone who was always fit and active and never looked her age she was justly proud of keeping her slim figure while the rest of us succumbed to 'middle age spread' but she was a sensitive confidante with whom I could share my innermost thoughts and problems, knowing that from her I would get a straightforward and honest response even if it meant something I didn't really want to hear!

During the last three years she had suffered more and more from the 'tummy bug' she picked up on holiday. When it was still there after a year, and she was beginning to lose weight dramatically, we were all worried. What were the doctors thinking about? How could they let someone get to this stage without finding the cause - and the solution???

I am immensely grateful to her and her husband that they made a huge effort to come and see us last November to celebrate my birthday. The weather was horrendously bad and we never expected them to set off, let alone make it, but they arrived after a long and difficult journey through the snow.

It was apparent that she was uncomfortable and her weightloss was a shock but she insisted that she was fit enough to go out for a meal - even though she hardly ate a thing. That was the last time we saw each other. . . . .

Every time I rang her she would sound cheerful and upbeat until the last three times, when I detected the despair in her voice, and felt that she was ready to give up. The final conversation we had was the day she went into hospital 'for some more tests'. She knew, by then that it was cancer of the liver and pancreas but she didn't tell me. I found out when I rang and spoke to her son. He broke down and cried.

She was the rock for the whole family - a born organiser - a fantastic wife, a great mother to her three sons, a wonderful friend. Everyone will miss her so much. . . . . . . . .