My friend,  James Randall, died yesterday. He was found in bed, having died in his sleep, I pray peacefully.

James was a man who had endured an awful lot in his life, and remained upbeat throughout.

When I met him, about 27 years ago, he was spending 4 hours each day having dialysis, as his kidneys had failed some years earlier.

Forgive me if I’m inaccurate with details, but I believe both his father ( a Second World War decorated SAS hero – John Randall – google him and buy his biography ) and his brother both donated kidneys that ‘ failed ‘, and then ( very unusually for the NHS ) he got a third transplant which worked, and lasted until his sudden death yesterday.  I believe he survived far longer than any others in his situation had,  before him.

I’d told him recently that in my opinion, he was the bravest man I’d ever met, and to me he was a hero. He replied, looked me in the eye, and said ‘ no, since your injury, you deserve that accolade ‘

I don’t agree with his judgement, but it’s of no consequence, and typical of his modesty in adversity.

Had James not had crippling kidney disease, and lived in a World War era, I’ve no doubt he’d have matched his late father’s ( who too died this year – James was very devoted to, and proud of his Dad )  wartime bravery.

James Randall, I salute you.