In Memory of Steve Hird

Just adding this here.  

We shared a lot of our childhood, throwing stones at the bell of the local church and annoying the vicar, exploring the hills and bogs that surrounded our town, reading comics and trading Star Wars figures and often drawing together - he was already prodigiously talented at the age of 5 or 6 and he just got better and better. Some years later, I remember sitting next to him at high school in a Religious Education class at the age of 13 or so and watching him draw an extraordinarily mature rendition of the sacrifice of Isaac by Abraham. He was shockingly good at this from such an early age. 

But I think about being 7 years old and climbing trees and garage roofs, getting stuck in mud, spending winter weekends in his warm front room drawing and playing, going to the impossibly exotic Manchester Airport with him and his parents to watch the planes descend and being introduced to the Mars Bar for the first time. 

We didn't meet often enough as adults, but when we did, he was always an absolute mensch. His memory is a blessing.

I knew Steve for as long as I can remember. We grew up on the same street,  some of my favourite memories are of us running riot in the churchyard, only to be told off by the local vicar, or hurtling down Railway Street on that absolute deathtrap of a carty. Those moments still make me smile.


We shared a love of art. Even as kids, I was in awe of his talent, he had something special, something instinctive and we both went on to study art at Burnley College, where we spent more time in the pub than the studio!


Life took us in different directions for a while, and we lost touch. But reconnecting later on was such a joy. I was genuinely chuffed to see everything he’d achieved. He loved his work, and he spoke with such pride about supporting the “young ’uns.” They were lucky to have him, just as all of us who knew him were.


Steve was generous, kind, and quietly brilliant. I will treasure those memories.