My Mates

Glyn in Majorca This is my friend Glyn. He was born on 3rd January, 1959 and died on 24th February, 1998. He went out to post a letter and never came back. We had been friends and lovers for 18 years. We laughed and cried, we shouted; but most of all we loved - not just each other, but life. He was struck down by a massive heart attack, I think brought on by overwork (his Capricorn nature would never let him relinquish the semblance of excellence), booze, and tobacco. Glyn's resting place He gave up smoking for 42 days from 11th April 1994, resuming because of "stress". He is buried in the churchyard at Eyam , Derbyshire; the village where he was born. I still love and mourn him. He was spiky at times, but essentially he was a lovely man.


	Here's a blast from the past. We are aged 13 and are having fun on a school trip to Koblenz. Can you spot a young Mick Taylor, seven years later to become Brian Jones' replacement in the Rolling Stones?

		In the middle of the melee you can see a young Geoffrey Morriss. I met him on Monday 6th October, 1958. We formed an immediate bond and have been friends ever since. He has stayed within 50 km from his place of birth, I have travelled the world to arrive at where I am now. Back in the 60s we formed the League Against Tobacco. Below and to the left you can see one of Geoff's 1962 lapses. Below right is what he looks like now, being a money haemorrhaged father of a son and a daughter.

Michael Newman, now a much revered school teacher, was a stranger when I first met him. He moved to my school after we had all made connections. He was a nice guy, and we soon became pals. We played music together, and sampled the hippie life; we can remember the 60s. We still stay in contact (even allowing for a strange silence during his first marriage) and can still hit the high notes sometimes. His daughter, Pascale, is quite the most wonderful person in his life, second only to the delightful Denise, his French Canadian partner. He now lives in the frozen wastes of Canada.

Bill Green, brother of sensible Trevor and singer (always late for school) Christine, tries to play my clarinet in 1970. (LEFT) Shortly after this photo was taken he took a trip to Bristol and blew his mind out with drugs. What a waste of a beautiful talent. He could make the guitar sing, I have the recordings to prove it.

Below left is my friend Wini from Hamburg, bass player for "The Men Who". Click on his picture for more details.

Other friends deserve to be here, but for reasons bordering on paranoia they prefer the shade of obscurity. For them the light will shine in some other corner of the galaxy, perhaps even a black hole will seem more homely.

In 2001 Paul came to my place of work as an I.T. Support and Web trainee. His adolescent flippancy and incessant fiddling and fidgeting nearly drove me to distraction, but almost three years later he is beginning to settle down. In his words, "I do listen to what you say; I don't always understand it, but I listen."

That is a massive improvement and I think if he puts half the effort into learning Web stuff as he expends in his favourite Tae Kwon Do martial arts hobby then he'll be expert in no time.

Always on the sniff for those female pheromones, Paul is ever ready to impress any audience with his Leo pride and jester's mask. His secret fear of ridicule and failure fuel his thirst for admiration and need to feel in control.


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