When I first met Peter; he was a warm, sensitive, fun loving nineteen-year-old with a dream.

This was London, 1966 and anyone who was a teenager in the 60s will remember it was a time of optimism a time when we really believed our dreams could come true.

The early London days for the Iveys were not easy financially but, because of their easy going friendliness, a support group soon developed around them. These were mainly other young people who, although not in a position to help them further their career, would be there to talk over their disappointments, take them out for a drink and generally lift their spirits.

Terri Custins, a close friend of the boys in those early years, and I would donate our luncheon vouchers, and treat their sheets to the odd trip to the launderette! My mother would frequently provide food parcels to keep them going. They were also fortunate enough to have a friend and supporter, Tim Boyle, who "worked his socks off" to provide them with bookings.

This then was the extended family. They recognised the talent, they believed in the dream and did whatever they could to support the boys. Peter, Ron, Mike and Dai were grateful for that support. They did not abuse it or take it for granted and so the support continued.

Not once during those difficult early years did Peter think of giving up. He always believed that if they worked hard enough they would make it and with every disappointment and there were a few, he would absorb it, come to terms with it, and then go back into the studio in Park Avenue with renewed determination. Eventually the hard work, along with Pete's talent, paid off.

Peter took inspiration for his songs from many areas of life; books, newspaper articles, television, films, dreams, observation of friends' lives and relationships, our relationship. One early song of Pete's was "I'll Kiss You Goodnight" a gentle song that was actually built around the title of a vampire story!

Peter would also sometimes use songs to convey intensely personal messages. For example, wanting to thank his mother Catherine for her support and for putting up with his teenage moods, he wrote "Catherine Cares", a song which perfectly summed up his gratitude to her.

Among the many, many songs written by Peter, there were those that were inspired by our relationship (which lasted for five years between 1966 and 1971), one of which was "Without You." Pete wrote the verses, Tom the chorus.

Between 1971 and 1973, although we both went on to other relationships, we continued to see each other on an occasional basis, going out for a meal or just a drink and a 'heart to heart.' Our frequent haunt was a marvelous Italian restaurant that Pete had discovered on the Edgeware Road, London. These were times when we would talk about anything and everything in a relaxed and comfortable way.

In April 1973, I left England for a holiday in Africa to visit a friend, Colin Tucker, who was working on a five-year contract in Zambia. Colin and I fell in love and I stayed in Africa for three months. I returned to England for a while to spend time with friends and family then in late November flew back to Zambia. Colin and I married in Lusaka, Zambia, in December '73 and lived in Africa until '76.

At the time of Pete's death I was in England on leave.

Pete would not wish to be portrayed as a saint. He, as we all have, had his faults. He could sometimes be extremely stubborn, but those of us who were his friends miss him in so many ways. His loyalty to his friends, his wonderful sense of humour, his willingness to listen to other people's problems, his gentleness.

Peter William Ham was a decent, caring, sensitive person. He was the product of a loving and supportive family to whom he would have never intentionally caused pain.

When Peter died, a light went out in a lot of lives. The disbelief still lingers.