TODAY is the saddest day for one of the most amazing people I've met in my time as a journalist, working principally for this paper.

Lyndon Longhorne, meningitis survivor and amputee, says goodbye to the person who inspired him to become a champion swimmer.

Lyndon's grandad Terry Wheeldon, aged 64, died suddenly last week and his funeral takes place at 11am today at St Catherine's Church in his home town of Crook.

Lyndon was struck by meningitis at just eight months, losing both legs, and arm, and fingers from his other arm. And it was his grandad who first took him swimming at Glenholme Sports Centre in Crook as a toddler and made him believe that there was nothing to stop him achieving great things despite his disabilities.

"It's because of him that I'm where I am today," said Lyndon, 20, who twice broke the British record in the 50 metres breaststroke at the British Paralympic Swimming Championships at Glasgow earlier this year, and is studying sports management at Northumbria University.

"He was the one who gave me faith in myself and the courage to keep getting back in the pool. I always looked up to him and I'll never forget him. He's just left a big hole in my heart."

My thoughts are with Lyndon and his family today. I hope they find comfort in the knowledge that Terry was the inspiration behind a truly remarkable young man who continues to be an example to us all.

IT was a joy last week to be asked to present the end of year prizes at my old school, St Peter's, in South Bank, near Middlesbrough.

The school is 75 years old this year and, six years ago, a passionate campaign was fought to save it from closure.

That campaign was led by headteacher Pam Hanrahan, who is retiring from her post this year. Not only did she save the school but she has led it out of the financial crisis that inevitably followed, but rebuilt it into a school that is proudly thriving again.

St Peter's will always be in her debt. Here's to the next 75 years.

MEMORIES came flooding back as soon as I stepped back through the doors of St Peter's: standing outside the head's office for a week for fighting with Jeremy Hill, end of term trips to Whitby on Beeline coaches, managing to get an ungraded in my O'level physics, winning the Heagney Cup with the school football team at South Bank's old ground which was our Wembley.

Oh, and the time Stephen Reid, in our class, backed his Spanish book with a Hovis wrapper and Mr Preddy telling him: "Well, at least you used your loaf, son."

FOR one reason or another, I never went to university, so last week's honour by the University of Sunderland was something I'll treasure.

To be made an honorary fellow of such a distinguished North-East university, for services to journalism, was a humbling and moving experience.

That fact that it was presented by one of the greatest athletes in history, Steve Cram, who is the university's chancellor, made it all the more special.

During the ceremony, at the Stadium of Light, I was enthralled by the emotions, not just of the graduates, but the members of their families watching in the stand in front of the stage.

As one young woman received her degree, an elderly man – presumably her grandad – burst into tears and continued to wipe them away for some time afterwards.

We should never underestimate what it means for families to see their loved ones recognised for their hard work and it is impossible to know the circumstances and hardships behind those achievements.

A sincere thanks to the University of Sunderland for making me part of a day I'll never forget.

FROM the sublime to the completely ridiculous...

I've had some strange requests in my 36 years as a journalist but the call from St Teresa's Hospice takes the sugar lump: "How do you fancy being the back-end of a pantomime horse?"

On Wednesday, it's the St Teresa's Hospice Charity Race Day at Catterick Racecourse and proceedings begin with a pantomime horse race. Some dobbin or other thought it would be a good idea if The Northern Echo had a runner.

I checked the diary, secretly hoping that there'd be a good reason to make my apologies, but, sadly, Wednesday was blank. My conscience got the better of me and I'm now officially entered for the race over a furlong – or an eighth of a mile.

Naturally, I needed a front end of the horse so one of the The Northern Echo's finest writers, Chris Lloyd (though not one of its finest athletes), has been roped in.

It has been decided that our horse will be called "William Steed" – in memory of one of the paper's most illustrious editors, William Stead.

We've got neigh chance of winning but, if you fancy supporting us for a thoroughbred cause, go to www.justgiving.com/fundraising/Peter-Barron.