There are no words to properly describe Paul Radville. He was one of a kind, he was unique, he was like no one else. He was unforgettable.

He had more energy than a room full of 200 children combined.

He loved to embarrass everyone. He loved to be inappropriate. He made light of everything and was the first to make you realise when you were taking things too seriously. He had an attitude to life that if more people shared would make the world a much better place.

He was also irritating as hell but in the most amazing and wonderful way.

He had a heart of gold. When you really needed him the silliness fell by the wayside and he had all the time in the world for you. His soul was pure and loving and genuine and real.

No one who met him even once ever forgot him. He was a very special soul and a true life force.

And he was funny. He was so so funny. I don’t think it was possible to spend a minute in his company without laughing. Even people with the stiffest upper lip would succumb to his charms.

But at the age of 30 he was very cruelly taken by brain cancer after a long and gruelling battle.

I watched him being diagnosed with a brain tumour the size of a lemon. I watched his first seizure that lead to that diagnosis. I watched him walk in for 12 hours of brain surgery and I watched him come round from it. His face barely recognisable it was so swollen, yet he still managed to laugh and smile during the first words he uttered.

I watched him being terribly sick from the chemotherapy. I watched him shave his head after losing his hair through radiotherapy. I watched him go from hospital appointment to hospital appointment on the rollercoaster of good news and bad news, although of course mainly bad.

But what I watched wasn’t just someone going through a terrible illness. I watched someone who was the greatest clown I had ever encountered become the most inspirational and admirable person I have ever met.

I watched him take every step in his stride. I watched him dodge every curve ball. I watched him make the best of (to use his words) ‘the shit hand of cards’ that he had been dealt.

I watched him be strong and selfless and worry about everyone else’s welfare before his own. And I watched him continue to bring joy and laughter to everyone around him through it all.

But ultimately the brain cancer won and defeated a force to be reckoned with.

Only 1% of cancer research goes to brain tumours, yet it is the biggest killer of people under 40.

So I have decided there is no better tribute to Paul than to throw myself out of a plane in his honour. To skydive, not kill myself!

So on my birthday next month, 11th October at 8.30am (and I’m not a morning person...neither am I looking forward to turning the ripe old age of 35!) I am skydiving in his honour to raise money for two charities: Cherry Lodge Cancer Care who are sponsoring me to do it, and also a specialist brain cancer charity who guarantee 100% of the funds raised will go towards brain cancer research.

I’m not doing it to tick off a bucket list. I’m doing it because I really want to raise money and make a difference in his name. And MOST OF ALL I’m doing it because his lovely Dad is coming to watch me jump out of the sky - I haven’t seen him for years and I’m delighted he’ll be there to hopefully witness a significant amount of money being raised in his son’s name.

So please get behind me and sponsor me. Whatever you can as every £1 adds up.

In true Lianna style....I booked this impulsively and I’ve left it very late to start fundraising. And I’ve set a crazily high target of £5000.

Everyone has said it’s unrealistic but there’s nothing wrong with aiming for the stars!

Worst case scenario....I’ll be embarrassed if I’m way way way off, but that’s a risk I’ll take because I don’t have him around to embarrass me anymore, and I think he’ll relish the fact he can still manage it from up above.