My friend died this week. His wife emailed me to let me know.

Joking all the way, he had been ignored by the MND for some time, and perhaps it was a relief that the tyranny of the disease had ended with him escaping in peace.

We met through work. And in my case, this is true of almost everyone I know, except for two long-term friends from school.

He was a restaurant owner. I wrote about their food. Our paths crossed, our lives became intertwined. I spent more time there, they were no longer afraid of what I would write. We followed a similar path for several years until he and his beloved wife moved away from the area to retire.

He worked hard. He was a man with a plan, although he was mostly self-taught, he had learned things early in his career and worked ridiculous hours to make something of himself.

Chris Bradley, who works at Mr Underhills in Ludlow, was part of the wave of restaurateurs who put the south Shropshire town on the map in the early 2000s. He had achieved a Michelin star at the same time as Claude Bosi at Hibiscus and Shaun Hill at The Merchant House. Shortly afterwards he and his wife Judy were named the best restaurateurs in the UK in Harden’s Guide.

Their restaurants were filled with a waiting list, and they took it even further, reaching higher levels of exclusivity.

Of course, there were difficulties. There always is. When the flood hit the River Teme, their restaurants were filled with brown, muddy water. It cost a small fortune to repair, but they fixed it anyway and were soon back on as if nothing had happened.

On one occasion, while Michelin inspectors were thought to have been on site to decide whether to allocate a prestigious second star, their oven broke down, as if fate had conspired against them.

Mr. Underhills – along with his fellow Michelin-starred diners – has given Ludlow more than its share of dazzling charm. It was the most exciting culinary destination in the world. Chris and Judy, along with Claude and Claire Bosi and Shaun and Anja Hill, started a scene that resonates today. They created something special, something unique; Something driven by hard work, the pursuit of excellence and a competitive spirit that moves things forward.

For me, Chris and Judy became friends. Chris was amused by the number of girlfriends and, yes, wives who came to dine with me. “It was a challenge trying to keep up,” he laughed, gently chiding me for my instability.

There were other times when they were close. At the lowest point in my life, after the collapse of my second marriage and the bleak and chaotic circumstances that followed, they were like a rock. By offering tough advice, listening and reassurance, they became friends at a time when it was needed most. When they retired, I went to their beautiful new home, where Chris and Judy had settled in the quietest of villages with family ties.

Chris was strong and hard-working; A man who had achieved so much in his working years was not ready to simply sit back. He handled the renovation of his new home with the same gusto he brought to Mr. Underhills.

We visited from time to time, sharing stories and hoping they would move on to a quiet, happy retirement.

So it was a sad email that arrived recently, talking about an acute illness and short survival time.

Many people will be saddened by Chris’s passing. He was a popular person in Ludlow; He was a man who contributed much to the city and made many friends and associates. His life in the town, along with his beloved and popular wife Judy, helped make the town prosperous.

It is a time to reflect, to be thankful, to celebrate his many accomplishments, and to mourn his passing.

Time marches on inexorably, even though there are fondest memories not only from this author who became a close friend, but from the many people who knew, loved, and were friends with Chris and his kind and generous wife, Judy.