Alison née Houston

There is nothing like the sudden death of a school friend to make one come face to face with one’s immortality. It is easy to jog along in the world without thinking of what inevitably lies ahead until one finds oneself standing in the Crematorium looking at a coffin of a friend the same age.

When I changed schools at the age of 9, Alison was chosen to be my meeter and greeter on my first day at the new one . From then on, she was in my orbit all through school and University. We joined the PhysSoc society there together, ( not what you think, but the Physics/Maths Club!) and had various hosteling trips away with other members.

She had Shetland grandparents and took me for my first visit to Shetland, long before the oil arrived, to meet her relations.That is when I fell in love with the islands and their people.

We kept in touch over the years, although inevitably our lives diverged and our meetings became rarer as she had a busy role as the chairperson for the Scottish Women’s Rural Institute while holding down a position in computing at the University.

Today the crematorium was filled with WRI women from all over the country, none of whom I knew, but as I stood there, I thought that I amongst all of them, even her husband, was possibly the only one who remembered her as the little girl of 9 with freckles and pigtails.