But my first and last dealings with Ray Veal were typical of a man who always had time for people.

The final time I knocked on his door was just before May Day. He looked tired, thin and desperately ill.

But before I had uttered a word, Ray had welcomed me with a warm smile and a weak handshake.

We sat and drank coffee while he told me about May Day memories and his sandings.

He never once complained as he laughed, joked and answered my long list of questions for a feature article.

I wasn't surprised at the welcome. The first time I met Ray had already revealed what sort of man he was.

He was a court usher at Macclesfield Magistrates' Court. I was a nervous, rookie reporter attending my first case.

From the moment we met he chatted, pointing me in the right direction. Within minutes I was at ease.

Nothing was too much trouble for Ray Veal. I'll remember him - along with many others - as a friendly and helpful man.

We'll miss you, Ray.

Converted for the new archive on 13 March 2001. Some images and formatting may have been lost in the conversion.