Security for a day

Paul was, at first glance, dour, foreboding, solitary and scary. To those that managed to get passed that carefully constructed façade, he was some completely different.

I shall miss my friend’s remarkable insights, stark reality checks, thoughtfulness and generosity of spirit. His courage in taking leaps in to unknown was almost easily missed, cloaked in one of his shrugs and casual comments. It took years to notice and years to figure out, but that was Paul, a bit of an enigma.

From college lectures to travelling over parts of the country, we shared some great adventures, utter failures, some awful drinks and a lot of getting side tracked.

On his first flight, he flew to India and spent months in a totally alien culture, travelling to as many places time allowed him to reach. I still have his one piece of communication, a letter, he managed to construct over the many months away. The letter arrived almost on the same day Paul returned home. It had taken three months to write and jumped from adventure to disaster to discovery. It was all over the shop, but gave a joyful tour of what he experienced and amazing sights, places and people of this other world.

Paul’s love of reading and understanding took him to Aberystwyth University in Wales. In a memorable road trip, two of us packed Paul and all his worldly belongings, minus a few hundred books, in to a small car and set off for Wales. Despite Jude’s military training we still managed to get horribly lost and found ourselves in the middle of a desolate Welsh valley in a somewhere in an unknown Nation Park. Undeterred by have not the slightest idea of where we were, being forced to dodge the local wild life or how the road dropped precipitously at ever corner, we forged on with the light failing rapidly. Several hours later and with a great deal of luck, smoking of cigarettes and rationing of the chocolate stash, we finally limped into Aberystwyth.

We deposited Paul’s belongs deep in some student hall and promptly took him to a pub, piled him with copious amounts of alcohol as a farewell gesture. We said our goodbyes and left him surrounded by suitably drunken fellow students, looking out over the Welsh coastline. It was only after several hours of driving did we realise that he had no clue how to find his way back to his new residence. That night was spent drunken cursing us while climbing at very, very steep hills to try each University digs to find his room. Doing this in the fresh, brisk, biting sea air, massive amount of excursion, a slowly developing hangover and signs all in Welsh only wasn’t as funny as we found it, apparently.

Even as one of the “old” students, he manage a fair bit of mischief during that time but kept an eye on the uni kids that inhabited that part of his life. He proudly achieved his degree in Information & Library Studies and proved to a great deal of people he was much more than they realised.

I got to work with Paul a couple of times. Whether it was setting up show jumping rings, cooking for the masses or working in IT, he always maintained an almost stubborn common sense and pragmatism approach. He’d often played the role of the heavy, casting black looks and unflinchingly doing the dirty work; he always approached it intelligently and with care if you took the time to notice.

I have a thousand and one stories ranging from him always having time to talk with the homeless of Brighton to the time he nearly ran me through with a fencing foil. Ended up at standing at Stone Henge on the Autumnal equinox at midnight being mistakenly hunted by security is one I still have photographic evidence of to prove it actually occurred. That’s what happens when you get to be someone’s friend for more than twenty year.

He found love, friendship, peace and happiness with Julie in recent years.

My friend passed away on the 25^th Of December, 2009.

He remains in my mind’s eye propped against a wall with a half read book in hand, bag slung causally over his shoulder and can of coke fighting for space with a pack of cigarettes in a pocket peeking out. A disapproving, well practiced, “you’re late” look on his half shaven face offset with a mirthful sparkle in those brown eyes.