Meeting of the Parliament 25 February 2026 [Draft]
I will open by taking the opportunity to talk about Susan Stewart. I thank Susan for asking you, Presiding Officer, to ask me to speak today—as a former Minister for Parliamentary Business, I know that that is the protocol. It means a lot to me, because Jeane meant a lot to me.
One of the things that I keep trying to remember—we must all remember this—is that, no matter how we all feel, Susan will be feeling this loss more than any of us. My heart goes out to her, because I know the loss that she will be feeling.
Jeane Freeman was a force of nature, an impassioned campaigner and a feisty woman who did not suffer fools, so, of course, I was drawn to her—have you met the women in my life? When Jeane liked you, she liked you. She was hugely loyal. If, for whatever reason, you found yourself on the wrong side of Jeane, the best thing to do was run—run for your life.
I was lucky. I loved Jeane and she loved me. We did not hug one another and tell one another that all the time—it was a very west coast of Scotland working-class love, but we had our moments. It was usually me who had the emotional outburst, but that will come as no surprise to anyone in the chamber.
Jeane had a brick in her office. I often wondered why someone would have a brick in their office. It was a brick from her school—from where she came from—because she had a sense of who she was and where she came from, and that brick represented that. That meant everything to me, because, as some members know, I feel great pride in my home town of Paisley, so I could understand Jeane right away.
Jeane would call me out if she thought that I was wrong, and she would tell me exactly what I had done wrong. Even as recently as last year, she texted me to tell me how stupid I was to do a certain thing. I am not telling anyone today what that certain thing was—people will need to work that out for themselves—but she used her time, even in her retirement, to tell me that. I also remember a recent conversation in which she questioned the logic of our First Minister in no longer having me in the Scottish Government, but, as I said, Jeane was a very good mate.
Sometimes, at the most inappropriate times, I would try to make Jeane laugh, because, when she laughed, her whole face would light up, her eyes would sparkle and we would hear her very throaty laugh.
When Jeane was the Cabinet Secretary for Health and Sport, during Covid, the rest of the world saw the woman we knew. Constituents told me how much Jeane and Nicola meant to them during that very scary time in their lives. That period now seems like a bad dream, much of which we are still dealing with, but people saw what Jeane Freeman was all about.
As many members will be aware, Susan Stewart, Jeane’s partner, is football daft. Perfect for me, she is a St Mirren fan and a member of the tartan army, so we have a lot in common. Jeane—no so much. Even during her tenure as the Cabinet Secretary for Health and Sport, Jeane never really got our beautiful game and national pastime. She never understood what all the excitement was about. Susan and I firmly agree with the Bill Shankly quote: “People say that football is a matter of life and death. I say to them that it is a lot more important than that.”
However, during her time away from politics, Jeane started following the great game, mainly with Susan, for Susan. Jeane and Susan attended Euro 2024 in Germany, along with half the country. They followed St Mirren’s recent success in the league cup this season—they both attended the final and semi-final games. Jeane did that for Susan, because that is what Jeane was all about: looking out for other people and making everyone else feel good.
When I heard about Jeane’s illness, I was devastated, but, Jeane being Jeane, she managed to tell me in a very Jeane Freeman way—so much so that she nearly convinced me that she was not as ill as everybody else had told me and that there was a way that she could work things out. That was Jeane being Jeane and thinking about how I felt.
The night before Jeane died, I was in the house, shouting at the television. St Mirren were playing Airdrie, and, although we won, it was a terrible game. At that moment, when the most important thing in my life was that football game, I got a message from Susan saying that Jeane had worsened and that she was permanently at Jeane’s side. She told me that Jeane had come round just as the final whistle had blown and said, “George will be pleased that St Mirren won.” Jeane then demanded that Susan send a picture of her in her hospital bed, clapping because St Mirren had got through to the next round of the cup. That is a classy lady. That woman, even when she was dying, was thinking about someone else: she was thinking about her big, daft pal fae Paisley.
But Jeane Freeman was an extraordinary woman who touched the lives of everyone fortunate enough to know her. She was fierce, loyal, compassionate and utterly devoted to those she loved. From her powerful advocacy during the independence referendum to her leadership through the darkest days of Covid, Jeane showed Scotland what true public service looks like. She was a force of nature who never forgot where she came from, who fought tirelessly for what she believed in, and who made everyone around her better just by being there.
Even in her final hours, Jeane was thinking of others, making sure that Susan knew that she loved her, and making sure that her big, daft pal fae Paisley was happy. That was Jeane Freeman. That will always be Jeane Freeman. Although our hearts are broken, we are all better people for having known her.
Susan, we cannot begin to understand your loss, but I promise you this: Jeane’s legacy, her spirit, and her fierce love and loyalty will live in every single one of us. She was, and always will be, simply incredible. [Applause.]