Watching our little girl at her school sports day, my husband Ian, then 38, and I cheered her on.
It was 1991, and Jenny, then 5, was clinging tightly to her egg and spoon as she crossed the finishing line.
‘You were brilliant,’ I said, wrapping her in a cuddle.
Jenny didn't care if she came first or last, just loved taking part.
The middle child of three, she loved to run and climb.
In summer, we'd fill up the paddling pool and Jenny would spend hours splashing around with her brothers, go roller skating and climb trees.