I try to keep the humanity in Supply Chain - it can be dry, technical and hard to engage with and in writing these blogs I hope that they are accessible and my passion shines through. I like to tie Supply Chain to everything, whether it’s Lunar New Year, walking my dog or stocking up on groceries - there are (sometimes extremely tenuous) links to be made - there are times, however, when none of it matters at all - there are times to be human and not think about work, business and supply chains - to understand perspective.

Today, December 6th, should be my friend Kate’s 44th birthday but she died on February 26th of this year, three weeks after being diagnosed with cancer. It has been the most horrific 10 months since she got sick and passed, I had never experienced grief before - the only way I have kept going has been the humanity of those around me. My family are immense, my colleagues have shown that there is a whole lot more to work than email, spreadsheets and team meetings - I’m eternally grateful. Keep being human, keep perspective.

It is beyond self-indulgent, but then again so is having your own website. Below is my tribute to Kate, written back in February as I flew over, it’s filled with in-jokes and references but I know she’d have laughed. And then called me an idiot. Happy Birthday mate, you are so missed.

CN Tower, Toronto - May 2022. It was cloudy but there are some advantages of being blind, as Kate pointed out.

I first met Kate in 1998. Or maybe 1999. It was a long time ago, but also not long enough. Her folks were hosting some kind of barbecue and I recall being dragged along and not entirely thrilled about it – my only encounter so far had been as an dead weight for my step-Dad while he and Kate’s Dad were working on the girls’ toilets in the Woodroffe during a half-term, and one very ill-fated afternoon where I was left alone with their extremely odd son, Paddy.

Intent on being miserable, as only a thirteen or fourteen-year-old can be, I remember getting to the courtyard of Coombe House, my parents getting boozy drinks and I was left to my own devices. I was introduced to a few people, including Kate. I don’t remember anyone else from that afternoon/evening, but I do remember Kate. She was so funny, and weird, and funny – I can’t for the life of me remember what it is that she said but it had me in stitches. I said something weird back and instead of talking down or ignoring me, she said something weirder and funnier back.

Over the next few years before going to university we would hang out on the weekends, watching awful late night television, Queen documentaries on VHS (when it was being loaned out as part of her money-making in-flight B&B entertainment), Eddie Izzard, MTV, heading over to Café Sol for mochas and baguettes. We would listen to music, usually sourced from Martian Records in Exeter, we’d hang out with that odd little man , Paddy, who it turned out was actually alright too. We’d hang out in hospitals, we’d go to Pizza Express. We’d buy booze from Vic Wine because we discovered the DQWAW rule. Don’t Quibble With a Wheelchair Rule. We’d go to the movies. My stringy gangly arms would get stronger pushing that b*stard wheelchair up Broad Street and on one very ill-advised occasion Sherborne Alley.

After leaving the area, every time I was back seeing Kate was a priority – it was never an obligation it was my favorite thing to do. I remember her getting the Snug, an incredible upgrade. Moving back to the area, getting to have restaurant nights with Kate (and Paddy) at Turles, every week. Carrying that bastard wheelchair up and down an 18th century basement staircase because f*ck accessibility being a reason not to have scampi and chips and a G&T.

When we moved to Chicago I remember Kate being really quite upset about it, but it actually meant that we spoke every single week and even better had her over twice and then once to Canada. The latter was suitably chaotic, but she at least got a thunderstorm and a tree getting struck by lightning.

For anyone who met Kate, who spoke with her, despite her body’s limitations, she was so vital. She didn’t hesitate to live, in whatever circumstance. She was a kind and caring friend who was always far more concerned with how everyone else was doing than she was – to the point where she could be dying from cancer and still be asking after my daughter’s tonsillectomy as if it mattered in the slightest. Kate was a great friend to all of us, each with its own love language of inside jokes, podcast references and always, always humor.

It's not right, any of this. But if a life is measured in love, Kate loved more and was loved more than any of us idiots.

Being Human

Living in a VUCA World