In case there is anyone who does not know, I am Sabine - Francoise’s daughter, later Nic my brother and Sophie, Francoise’s niece, will speak, as well as Arthur and Elle, two of her grandchildren.
 
and … in case some of you don’t know, Francoise Renee Jacqueline Therese Bertrand Lassailly - later Tilly - later Hawkins - was French! 
 
It drove her nuts that 67 years after leaving France she could still be asked if she was enjoying her visit to the UK.
 
She was the third girl of ten children. Tall and gangly, she loved to play the clown with her irreverent sense of humour and rebellious spirit. Her family were based in Paris, but her heart was in Trigueres - the country home - where she loved the freedom of the woods and gardens.
 
Growing up, Francoise and her siblings had to make their own entertainment, which is why so many are talented at music and art. Mum could play a tune on the piano by ear. Our childhood was filled with the sound of her playing Chopin or Schubert... For a while she also played old French songs on the accordion. She loved classical, folk, disco and she especially loved the voice of Elvis Presley.
 
At 18, Francoise wanted to escape Paris, she got permission to go to England on the condition that she passed her Baccalaureate with top marks—a challenge she met, much to her mother's surprise. There she met my father, marking the beginning of a tempestuous journey that was none-the-less filled with much love and laughter along the way. Nic and I soon appeared. Motherhood was her calling, and it defined much of her life. She loved children, and was always a child at heart. As a friend put it, meeting her in the 80s, she was the most immature parent he had ever met. Not that she was cavalier about parenting but that she would act the fool, make the rudest jokes, also clever witty jokes, and no standing on ceremony EVER.
 
However, motherhood wasn't without its trials. One was the loss of her third child, Julian, which was devastating, yet she always found the strength to carry on. Therapy and art became her sanctuary, guiding her through grief, and spawning a large body of symbolic artwork that adorned the walls of our Hampstead home. 
 
Francoise's transformation from a chic Parisian to a free-spirited, kaftan wearing, defiantly grey-haired Hampstead-ite was a testament to her resilience. Though her marriage faced challenges and eventually ended, she then embraced independence with determination. Ten years later, she found love again with Martin, and there followed 20 years of wonderful, mutually supportive love. Martin came into Mum’s life with his daughter Rebecca who was 11 at the time. Mum loved her straight away and Rebecca appreciated Mum’s sense of humour which was lucky!  
 
Francoise was the ultimate naughty step-parent, grandparent and great-grandparent, occasionally majorly embarrassing - such as driving Arthur to the bus stop for school in her dressing gown and getting out of the car and dancing around the pavement singing silly songs for all on the bus to see. Most of you will have stories of her escapades which I hope you will share later today.
 
She loved nature - her garden in Erskine Hill was left wild, trees and bushes allowed to tower up, perturbing the neighbours, the lawn left unmown so that wild flowers could create a Fairy carpet amongst the numerous gnomes, stone frogs and sculptures she had added. She was a talented artist: she could embroider, paint, etch, sculpt - she loved the time spent with her craft and art groups in the Suburb where everyone remembers her as having a wicked sense of humour. Her house was increasingly packed with her creations - she refused to sell any - for her, her artworks were her children.
 
In later life her positivity was striking, even her form of memory loss, meant she was, at times, alarmingly optimistic about her capabilities, offering to walk to the shops to get my shopping when it had just taken two people to support her 10 steps to her chair. But she would say this with a glint in her eye, defying me to fall into the trap of saying she couldn’t do it so that she could be mock outraged and make out it was just me that was holding her back. And when she fell, which she did often, even if she had broken a bone, she laughed and laughed, while I stood there panicked. 
 
She was very brave. With her cancer diagnosis, she did not succumb to victimhood but went on believing that life should be good and for living, albeit that she became frustrated with her decreasing physical strength more recently. 
 
In the face of periods of considerable adversity in her life, it is remarkable how resilient Francoise was - that we will remember her as strong in spirit, young in spirit, mischievous and very loving.
 
She had big hands, a big heart and she gave the very best big hugs.