One of my earliest memories in this life is waiting for a Honey de Lacey Christmas card. Each year, my Mum (and I) would earnestly wait for a beautifully painted seasonal card to arrive from her dearest friend in London. Honey was an illustrious illustrator who had swanned around the boutique shops of Notting Hill, and popping into the famed “Maribou”, met Jenny Kennedy sometime between ‘77 and ‘78. It was an instant attraction between creatives and this folklore descended into my childhood imagination and along my bookshelves. Discovering “Rosie’s Lion” which was one of Honey’s most beloved picture books, in my own primary school library, was like proof of a sparkling familial myth. And so before I could remember, I had a vision of this brilliant fairy godmother, her etched elves also part of the story, dancing in my Dreamtime. Many years later, during my own English Odyssey, I ventured to Hugh Grant territory to meet Honey, a woman who had never forgotten a Christmas. She called me: “Darling!” from a up a stairwell, the accent accentuated a deep part of me that knew we were already friends, connected through watercolour, postage stamps and matriarchal womanhood. Every inch of her four walls in that glorious Notting Hill flat was adorned with artwork, her own and many others, photographs hung in thick curly frames. Her furniture patterned, layered. Lacey de Lacey. And she cooked. As flavourful and rich as were the voices she enacted in her stories, everyone was a character to be dotted with idiosyncratic dots, just like she was. Larger than life, only 5 foot 5 and cycling between boroughs. Honey was Beatrix Potter with spunk. She was Shirley Barber with a smokey eye and wore floaty Stevie Nicks’ shawls. Deep purples, maroon and black. The flat was an extension of her, petite and so, very, pretty. Shabby chic couch coverings and even a secret garden. She unlocked the private grounds of the “whoops-a-Daisy” scene with a wrought-iron key and we got day drunk on rosé. She was a rare summer’s day and everything I had ever imagined, even listening to my naive tales of my half eaten love affairs despite having a lifetimes worth of truth to share. And she shared. Her time, her talent, her experience in this life. A story of the real Bansky and the “Made You Look” sign. A story of celebrity and family and heartbreak. Years after, I couldn’t get the image of her, talking with her beautiful hands, out of my head. Honey made me look. Forever remembered between the pages of young fantasies, the terraced corners of Notting Hill gardens and the running writing on the front, back l, and sides of her Christmas cards, addressed to my lovely Mum - Honey de Lacey will continue to surely sore like a local legend but more importantly, with her last words to me “I love you so much” in the minds of the many that loved her right back. The Woman Who Went to Fairyland, and back again. Peter, Luke and Jessica my heart is breaking with you. Thank you for sharing this piece of her with us, we are so very grateful, we are all so very lucky.

I miss you when something really good happens, because you're the one i want to share it with. I miss you when something is troubling me , because you're the one who understands me so well. I miss you when i laugh and cry , because you're the one that makes my laughter grow , and my tears disappear . I miss you all the time, but i miss you most when i lay awake at night and think of the wonderful times we spent with each other, for those were some of the best and most memorable times of my life. I JUST MISS YOU MY DARLING SISTER

I remember Honey vividly as a kid when her and Luke used to come to Burgess Hill. It wasn't until myself and Luke became good friends in our 20s that I spent so much time at Notting Hill. Such fond memories of our interaction and conversations with her & Peter and her generosity inviting me to the table for dinner so may times - Honey was such a great cook. She also was so thoughtful at Xmas with her gifts and cards. When Honey Peter and Luke came to San Francisco for her nephew's wedding I drove from LA & had the privaledge to spend some real quality time with all of them and I think that is my chosen moment of reflection amongst so many. She looked so radiant and enjoyed the occasion so much and told me so many stories about her time in America and who she met. She was a wonderful story teller and of course an amazing artist. My favorite art piece is elephant chaos in a girls bedroom -so so funny and has Honey's humor imagination colorful personality and gift for art running right through that painting. I will miss her so much. May she RIP. I think seasons are eternal and Spring always follows Winter and there is no other person I can imagine more blosoming into a new Spring wherever and however that may be.