David Winnick

It’s impossible to think of David without smiling at the memory of his laugh—that sudden, warm, rumbling sound that could fill a room and put everyone at ease. Whether you were a colleague in the Commons, a constituent he’d just met at the market, or one of his grandchildren, you felt seen by him. He had this quiet, steadfast way of listening, his head tilted, that made you feel your story was the only one that mattered in that moment. I’ll forever picture him in his favourite worn corduroy jacket, not as the formidable MP who served Walsall North for nearly four decades, but as the man who’d quietly slip a ten-pound note into a collection tin for the local food bank, or who could be found on a Saturday afternoon meticulously tending to his