Katy Block
21-12 2021 14:41
wrote:
I had all planned on knowing Sarah for a very long time, or at least as long as she’d tolerate my presence in her life. She was a consummate professional by day and the life and soul of the party by night. I could see the occasions when I ordered a cup (or even pot!) of tea on a staff night out sorely tested her patience but thankfully this wasn’t considered a P45 infringement!
On a professional level, Sarah was exacting, she had high standards and expected the best from us, at all times, but she would never ask anything she wasn’t prepared to do herself, including stuffing envelopes or making up name badges. She was more than a manager, she was a mentor and a good friend, taking time out to help each of us in the team find a way through queries or challenges, giving us space to reflect and grow.
There were lots of recurring phrases and words in the many the tributes shared with us over the last few days and weeks: sharp, intelligent, formidable, principled, champion, warrior, fearless, funny, passionate, caring, northern, wine lover, red pen connoisseur. She was all these things and more. Like all of us Sarah was a bundle of contradictions:
• She was strong and could give the impression of being hard but she was big hearted and so thoughtful. We lived close together and from time to time during the various lockdowns, she would turn up on my doorstep unannounced with flowers or sweet treats
• She was glamorous and rarely seen without her heels, even when she had a bad back, but she was also a big fan of fancy dress and the onesie
• She enjoyed the finer things in life, such as expensive wines and dining in Michelin starred restaurants, but she was equally enthusiastic about a finding a new backstreet curry house or having an illicit pie and chips when we had a take away in the office for lunch.
I recently read an article detailing the five stages of grief in which the author described a further stage, finding meaning, not in death but from the life of a friend or loved one. In acknowledging what they meant to us and recognising how knowing them shaped the person we are. Sarah would always be in favour of one last drink, buying those shoes or being frank in feedback about yet another misguided idea from government. I increasingly find myself thinking: “What would Sarah do?” Be braver, for sure.
I always knew ADCS was strong, tight team. And, because of this space and support she gave us, I thought it was a collective, but really it was her gang and I’m glad, that for a while, I got to be in it.
Katy Block
21-12 2021 14:41
wrote:
I had all planned on knowing Sarah for a very long time, or at least as long as she’d tolerate my presence in her life. She was a consummate professional by day and the life and soul of the party by night. I could see the occasions when I ordered a cup (or even pot!) of tea on a staff night out sorely tested her patience but thankfully this wasn’t considered a P45 infringement!
On a professional level, Sarah was exacting, she had high standards and expected the best from us, at all times, but she would never ask anything she wasn’t prepared to do herself, including stuffing envelopes or making up name badges. She was more than a manager, she was a mentor and a good friend, taking time out to help each of us in the team find a way through queries or challenges, giving us space to reflect and grow.
There were lots of recurring phrases and words in the many the tributes shared with us over the last few days and weeks: sharp, intelligent, formidable, principled, champion, warrior, fearless, funny, passionate, caring, northern, wine lover, red pen connoisseur. She was all these things and more. Like all of us Sarah was a bundle of contradictions:
• She was strong and could give the impression of being hard but she was big hearted and so thoughtful. We lived close together and from time to time during the various lockdowns, she would turn up on my doorstep unannounced with flowers or sweet treats
• She was glamorous and rarely seen without her heels, even when she had a bad back, but she was also a big fan of fancy dress and the onesie
• She enjoyed the finer things in life, such as expensive wines and dining in Michelin starred restaurants, but she was equally enthusiastic about a finding a new backstreet curry house or having an illicit pie and chips when we had a take away in the office for lunch.
I recently read an article detailing the five stages of grief in which the author described a further stage, finding meaning, not in death but from the life of a friend or loved one. In acknowledging what they meant to us and recognising how knowing them shaped the person we are. Sarah would always be in favour of one last drink, buying those shoes or being frank in feedback about yet another misguided idea from government. I increasingly find myself thinking: “What would Sarah do?” Be braver, for sure.
I always knew ADCS was strong, tight team. And, because of this space and support she gave us, I thought it was a collective, but really it was her gang and I’m glad, that for a while, I got to be in it.