Many people knew Stan Newens, as a friend, colleague, husband, father and so on, but I would like to say a few things about how I knew him: as a grandfather. 

I was always blown away by the sense that I could ask him any question, about any place, or person in time, and would without fail receive a lengthy, detailed answer. Nobody could have hoped for a better emergency GCSE history revision resource. Less than a week before he died, to help with my A level history course, he ran me through the entire Battle of Stalingrad. 

Grandad's love of both history and family led to him conducting impressive research into our own family’s story. When, whilst learning about family trees at school in year 3 I claimed to have a photo of my great-great-great-great grandfather, born in 1799, naturally nobody in my class believed me, until I produced a copy of the photo of George Frederick Sheen, born 1799, from my bag. I am ashamed to say that unfortunately I can’t now recall the names of any of my other great-great-great-great grandparents. 

I'll miss the unrelenting creaking of his kitchen chair, as I munch on cornflakes and try to read the Morning Star upside down. I’ll miss our discussions about my sporting prowess, whether in rugby or football, although he always insisted that he himself had never been a great footballer as his legs were too short which always made us laugh. On one occasion it was pointed out that they were still not as short as Diego Maradona’s.  

Every day I can see my grandad’s influence on me. For one, my interest in politics which feels like such an integral part of my life and which I will continue to pursue at university. My style choices. After years of receiving subtle criticism for my long hair, I finally agreed that I preferred it cut short. 

I am extremely proud to say that I not only knew a man who fought his entire life for justice and equality, but that that man was my grandad.