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#1
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Easter not good being early (OT) (And sadly long now I've gotstarted)
Feeling low today- couldn;t think what yesterday was apart from Easter
Sunday then remembered it's also the 23rd of March Has it really been 7 years? Felt bad about not remembering at first My best friend, Mick, died on the 23rd of March 2001. We met almost by accident- we used to get the same bus and get off at the same stop and for a while I used to think "If the guy who looks a bit like Eric Morecombe is at the stop I haven;t missed the bus" I assume he felt the same about me "If the girl who looks a bit like Nana Moussori is at the stop then I haven't missed the bus" (I guess and I didn't spell her name right I know but the Greek lady with the glasses and in those days I had the same glasses) Then one Friday after a rotten day at work I fell asleep on the bus and Mick woke me up before I could miss my stop. That was the ice- breaker- we'd wait for each other and talk all the way home and sometimes even stand for hours on the corner chatting. He worked for the Department of Transport (A claim to fame he would have rather not have was one of his jobs was making sure cross channel ferries were maintained properly and apparently, they were supposed to dry dock once a year but the companies could get an extension if they were able to prove they couldn't run all their routes if too many were in dry dock at once then his job would be to approve some of them to wait a while....he approved the "Herald of Free Enterprise" to wait a few more trips and it capsized on what would have been it's last run) later on when the department moved out of London he worked for the Department of the Environment where he would proudly claim he was forced to become an expert on London's sewers! He lived with his mum and his brother, his dad died when he was still at school. He was one of those clever people who never had opportunities- with his dad dying so young he had to leave school as soon as possible and get himself work to help his mum out. Later on, he took an English Literature A level and passed with a grade A and his ambition when he retired was to do an Open University degree (one of the reasons I started one was because he was encouraging me to do it if I could- I've passed a few courses but haven't been back for a few years as the courses have got too expensive). He liked his work, his colleagues and loved cooking (I still use some of his recipies and tips), his garden and of course....his animals... He was the guy who owned the Jack Russell that introduced itself to a couple in the middle of some open air nookie by shoving his nose into the guy's bottom and a loving slave of Sam a huge longhaired tuxedo cat And he liked a little flutter on the horses and a play on a slot machine where he would always say I brought him luck if I would go away from the machine as he seemed to inevitably lose when I was standing next to him. In 1985 Dave and me moved off the Isle of Dogs (Mick was proud of being an "Eastender" all his life but at his funeral it was revealed he'd been born in South London as was the tale of the time his local priest turned up to ask his mum if he would be an altar boy on Sunday...a great honour she thought then she heard the window opening and looked round to see Mick aged about 11 bolting up the garden path! He lost all faith in organised religion at a very early age) so our meetings at the bus stop ended and every Monday we would meet for a drink after work. There are a lot of pubs in the Aldgate area we drank in. We both wanted to write and would read stuff to each other, at the time being rather shy he was probably the only person I would read to (Not even Dave has had that privilege) and he'd read his stuff back- he worked a long time on a murder mystery based in the Civil Service perhaps as a result of his job and it was good I'd wait for the next installment. Another thing he was going to do when he retired since at least with his job he could retire at 60 maybe get some part time work, do his OU courses, write his novel....used to tease him that he'd be busier when he retired than when he was working Later on we drank on a Monday in the "Bells" I often sit in the corner where we used to sit. In 1993 when we both lost our jobs and things were so tight he insisted I meet as usual in the pub and he was buying -saying "You both probably need a break right now from each other" and when he turned up it was "Been cleaning out the cupboard at home- not going to use these thought you could use them" and a carrier bag would come my way. I am not stupid- he had a cat and no way is he not going to use 5 tins of Felix! Nor do cupboards ever turn up a pack of pork chops or a packet of ham or....it was his way of helping us out and it probably kept us going quite a lot. He was also the guy who when I called him to call in a small loan because "We saw a friend last night and don't ask me how but we have two kittens arriving today!" (Fugazi and Isis) took the afternoon off and turned up with not just the money but because he knew I didn't earn much (Now I earn not such bad money I wish he could be here so I could buy him a beer and a meal and well...anything) a mysteriously "don't need this now Sam's a bit bigger" brand new litter tray, bowls, bag of litter, water dish....he was the other person to bawl his eyes out after Fugazi crossed the Bridge Years passed and how I wish I had never taken for granted that every Monday Mick would roll into the "Bells" at 7.00 then we'd do crosswords together through I was no match,. He did the "Times" cyptic in under 20 minutes but we did word games as well At the end of 1999, he got a dose of flu he couldn't shake. It was so bad he quit the evil weed and in the end he almost killed his doctor who kept saying "antibiotics are no good for flu" to get some, which worked wonders but something had shown up on the X-Ray where they'd also diagnosed thanks to his GP not prescribing antibiotics he'd been walking round with pneumonia! Tests followed and on the 1st of April 2000 he called me to tell me he had cancer I remember saying "This had better not be an April Fool!" He walked it. Told he might lose his hair and a lot of weight, his only comment was along the lines of "I don't have any hair to lose and my GP says I need to lose a few stone. Guess there's something finally to be said for being a fat and bald ba**ard". He had chemo and at the end of the course when he handed back his anti nausea meds they noted he'd only taken 2 tablets and asked him why to which the reply was "That was the time I realised a second helping of apple pie and cream on top of a big dinner wasn't a good idea". He never lost weight and was quite proud of being the only patient in the oncology department to be given a diet sheet 2 weeks before he died we were planning a celebration of his making it through the first year since diagnosis. He wasn't as well as he had been but he was still funny, still fighting as he had said he would do since he was diagnosed, the last conversation I had with him was the Monday before he died and he called to say he wasn't feeling too well so he'd see me next week but he was having back problems and "My GP wants me to go over there and see him but he'd better come here or I'll have to crawl down the road on all fours with my a**e hanging out of my pyjamas" One last funny memory would be about 5 weeks before he died and he seemed a bit down as you would be and he asked me to get a drink and I said I would but I needed to pop to the loo first. So I did and when I got back I went straight to the bar and I looked round and he had his head thrown back and I could hear his laughing over the crowd and I was so glad to see and hear it (He had a booming laugh) when I got back and sat down I said "What's funny?" The answer "You've been standing at the bar and you didn't notice you have your knickers tucked into your skirt?!" 23rd of March 2001 he woke up in the night feeling a bit queasy and went to the bathroom and dropped down dead. They had to get the fire brigade to get him out -some people said that was undignified but I suspect he'd have found it amusing. At the funeral one of the pall bearers nearly dropped the coffin Most Monday nights I make a little time to sit in the "Bells" and just pretend that come 7 ish Mick will walk through the door throw the papers at me and say "Wotcha trouble?" I miss him sometimes more than my parents Lesley Slave of the Fabulous Furballs |
#2
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Easter not good being early (OT) (And sadly long now I've gotstarted)
On Mar 24, 2:15*pm, "Matthew" wrote:
I am sending you a big hug from across the pond to you Lesley. *Seems a lot of us a depressed right now Not depressed just very sad when I think of him, he would have been 65 by now and well on his way with his Open University course, his novel and all the other things he had planned for his retirement. All the same better to have known him than never to have known him Lesley Slave of the Fabulous Furballs |
#3
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Easter not good being early (OT) (And sadly long now I've got started)
Lesley wrote:
Feeling low today- couldn;t think what yesterday was apart from Easter Sunday then remembered it's also the 23rd of March Has it really been 7 years? Felt bad about not remembering at first My best friend, Mick, died on the 23rd of March 2001. We met almost by accident- we used to get the same bus and get off at the same stop and for a while I used to think "If the guy who looks a bit like Eric Morecombe is at the stop I haven;t missed the bus" I assume he felt the same about me "If the girl who looks a bit like Nana Moussori is at the stop then I haven't missed the bus" (I guess and I didn't spell her name right I know but the Greek lady with the glasses and in those days I had the same glasses) Then one Friday after a rotten day at work I fell asleep on the bus and Mick woke me up before I could miss my stop. That was the ice- breaker- we'd wait for each other and talk all the way home and sometimes even stand for hours on the corner chatting. He worked for the Department of Transport (A claim to fame he would have rather not have was one of his jobs was making sure cross channel ferries were maintained properly and apparently, they were supposed to dry dock once a year but the companies could get an extension if they were able to prove they couldn't run all their routes if too many were in dry dock at once then his job would be to approve some of them to wait a while....he approved the "Herald of Free Enterprise" to wait a few more trips and it capsized on what would have been it's last run) later on when the department moved out of London he worked for the Department of the Environment where he would proudly claim he was forced to become an expert on London's sewers! He lived with his mum and his brother, his dad died when he was still at school. He was one of those clever people who never had opportunities- with his dad dying so young he had to leave school as soon as possible and get himself work to help his mum out. Later on, he took an English Literature A level and passed with a grade A and his ambition when he retired was to do an Open University degree (one of the reasons I started one was because he was encouraging me to do it if I could- I've passed a few courses but haven't been back for a few years as the courses have got too expensive). He liked his work, his colleagues and loved cooking (I still use some of his recipies and tips), his garden and of course....his animals... He was the guy who owned the Jack Russell that introduced itself to a couple in the middle of some open air nookie by shoving his nose into the guy's bottom and a loving slave of Sam a huge longhaired tuxedo cat And he liked a little flutter on the horses and a play on a slot machine where he would always say I brought him luck if I would go away from the machine as he seemed to inevitably lose when I was standing next to him. In 1985 Dave and me moved off the Isle of Dogs (Mick was proud of being an "Eastender" all his life but at his funeral it was revealed he'd been born in South London as was the tale of the time his local priest turned up to ask his mum if he would be an altar boy on Sunday...a great honour she thought then she heard the window opening and looked round to see Mick aged about 11 bolting up the garden path! He lost all faith in organised religion at a very early age) so our meetings at the bus stop ended and every Monday we would meet for a drink after work. There are a lot of pubs in the Aldgate area we drank in. We both wanted to write and would read stuff to each other, at the time being rather shy he was probably the only person I would read to (Not even Dave has had that privilege) and he'd read his stuff back- he worked a long time on a murder mystery based in the Civil Service perhaps as a result of his job and it was good I'd wait for the next installment. Another thing he was going to do when he retired since at least with his job he could retire at 60 maybe get some part time work, do his OU courses, write his novel....used to tease him that he'd be busier when he retired than when he was working Later on we drank on a Monday in the "Bells" I often sit in the corner where we used to sit. In 1993 when we both lost our jobs and things were so tight he insisted I meet as usual in the pub and he was buying -saying "You both probably need a break right now from each other" and when he turned up it was "Been cleaning out the cupboard at home- not going to use these thought you could use them" and a carrier bag would come my way. I am not stupid- he had a cat and no way is he not going to use 5 tins of Felix! Nor do cupboards ever turn up a pack of pork chops or a packet of ham or....it was his way of helping us out and it probably kept us going quite a lot. He was also the guy who when I called him to call in a small loan because "We saw a friend last night and don't ask me how but we have two kittens arriving today!" (Fugazi and Isis) took the afternoon off and turned up with not just the money but because he knew I didn't earn much (Now I earn not such bad money I wish he could be here so I could buy him a beer and a meal and well...anything) a mysteriously "don't need this now Sam's a bit bigger" brand new litter tray, bowls, bag of litter, water dish....he was the other person to bawl his eyes out after Fugazi crossed the Bridge Years passed and how I wish I had never taken for granted that every Monday Mick would roll into the "Bells" at 7.00 then we'd do crosswords together through I was no match,. He did the "Times" cyptic in under 20 minutes but we did word games as well At the end of 1999, he got a dose of flu he couldn't shake. It was so bad he quit the evil weed and in the end he almost killed his doctor who kept saying "antibiotics are no good for flu" to get some, which worked wonders but something had shown up on the X-Ray where they'd also diagnosed thanks to his GP not prescribing antibiotics he'd been walking round with pneumonia! Tests followed and on the 1st of April 2000 he called me to tell me he had cancer I remember saying "This had better not be an April Fool!" He walked it. Told he might lose his hair and a lot of weight, his only comment was along the lines of "I don't have any hair to lose and my GP says I need to lose a few stone. Guess there's something finally to be said for being a fat and bald ba**ard". He had chemo and at the end of the course when he handed back his anti nausea meds they noted he'd only taken 2 tablets and asked him why to which the reply was "That was the time I realised a second helping of apple pie and cream on top of a big dinner wasn't a good idea". He never lost weight and was quite proud of being the only patient in the oncology department to be given a diet sheet 2 weeks before he died we were planning a celebration of his making it through the first year since diagnosis. He wasn't as well as he had been but he was still funny, still fighting as he had said he would do since he was diagnosed, the last conversation I had with him was the Monday before he died and he called to say he wasn't feeling too well so he'd see me next week but he was having back problems and "My GP wants me to go over there and see him but he'd better come here or I'll have to crawl down the road on all fours with my a**e hanging out of my pyjamas" One last funny memory would be about 5 weeks before he died and he seemed a bit down as you would be and he asked me to get a drink and I said I would but I needed to pop to the loo first. So I did and when I got back I went straight to the bar and I looked round and he had his head thrown back and I could hear his laughing over the crowd and I was so glad to see and hear it (He had a booming laugh) when I got back and sat down I said "What's funny?" The answer "You've been standing at the bar and you didn't notice you have your knickers tucked into your skirt?!" 23rd of March 2001 he woke up in the night feeling a bit queasy and went to the bathroom and dropped down dead. They had to get the fire brigade to get him out -some people said that was undignified but I suspect he'd have found it amusing. At the funeral one of the pall bearers nearly dropped the coffin Most Monday nights I make a little time to sit in the "Bells" and just pretend that come 7 ish Mick will walk through the door throw the papers at me and say "Wotcha trouble?" I miss him sometimes more than my parents Lesley Slave of the Fabulous Furballs {{{{{{{{{{{{ Lesley }}}}}}}}}}}} -- Adrian |
#4
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Easter not good being early (OT) (And sadly long now I've got started)
((((((((Lesley))))))))
-- Joy My mind is like a parachute...it functions only when open. "Lesley" wrote in message ... Feeling low today- couldn;t think what yesterday was apart from Easter Sunday then remembered it's also the 23rd of March Has it really been 7 years? Felt bad about not remembering at first My best friend, Mick, died on the 23rd of March 2001. We met almost by accident- we used to get the same bus and get off at the same stop and for a while I used to think "If the guy who looks a bit like Eric Morecombe is at the stop I haven;t missed the bus" I assume he felt the same about me "If the girl who looks a bit like Nana Moussori is at the stop then I haven't missed the bus" (I guess and I didn't spell her name right I know but the Greek lady with the glasses and in those days I had the same glasses) Then one Friday after a rotten day at work I fell asleep on the bus and Mick woke me up before I could miss my stop. That was the ice- breaker- we'd wait for each other and talk all the way home and sometimes even stand for hours on the corner chatting. He worked for the Department of Transport (A claim to fame he would have rather not have was one of his jobs was making sure cross channel ferries were maintained properly and apparently, they were supposed to dry dock once a year but the companies could get an extension if they were able to prove they couldn't run all their routes if too many were in dry dock at once then his job would be to approve some of them to wait a while....he approved the "Herald of Free Enterprise" to wait a few more trips and it capsized on what would have been it's last run) later on when the department moved out of London he worked for the Department of the Environment where he would proudly claim he was forced to become an expert on London's sewers! He lived with his mum and his brother, his dad died when he was still at school. He was one of those clever people who never had opportunities- with his dad dying so young he had to leave school as soon as possible and get himself work to help his mum out. Later on, he took an English Literature A level and passed with a grade A and his ambition when he retired was to do an Open University degree (one of the reasons I started one was because he was encouraging me to do it if I could- I've passed a few courses but haven't been back for a few years as the courses have got too expensive). He liked his work, his colleagues and loved cooking (I still use some of his recipies and tips), his garden and of course....his animals... He was the guy who owned the Jack Russell that introduced itself to a couple in the middle of some open air nookie by shoving his nose into the guy's bottom and a loving slave of Sam a huge longhaired tuxedo cat And he liked a little flutter on the horses and a play on a slot machine where he would always say I brought him luck if I would go away from the machine as he seemed to inevitably lose when I was standing next to him. In 1985 Dave and me moved off the Isle of Dogs (Mick was proud of being an "Eastender" all his life but at his funeral it was revealed he'd been born in South London as was the tale of the time his local priest turned up to ask his mum if he would be an altar boy on Sunday...a great honour she thought then she heard the window opening and looked round to see Mick aged about 11 bolting up the garden path! He lost all faith in organised religion at a very early age) so our meetings at the bus stop ended and every Monday we would meet for a drink after work. There are a lot of pubs in the Aldgate area we drank in. We both wanted to write and would read stuff to each other, at the time being rather shy he was probably the only person I would read to (Not even Dave has had that privilege) and he'd read his stuff back- he worked a long time on a murder mystery based in the Civil Service perhaps as a result of his job and it was good I'd wait for the next installment. Another thing he was going to do when he retired since at least with his job he could retire at 60 maybe get some part time work, do his OU courses, write his novel....used to tease him that he'd be busier when he retired than when he was working Later on we drank on a Monday in the "Bells" I often sit in the corner where we used to sit. In 1993 when we both lost our jobs and things were so tight he insisted I meet as usual in the pub and he was buying -saying "You both probably need a break right now from each other" and when he turned up it was "Been cleaning out the cupboard at home- not going to use these thought you could use them" and a carrier bag would come my way. I am not stupid- he had a cat and no way is he not going to use 5 tins of Felix! Nor do cupboards ever turn up a pack of pork chops or a packet of ham or....it was his way of helping us out and it probably kept us going quite a lot. He was also the guy who when I called him to call in a small loan because "We saw a friend last night and don't ask me how but we have two kittens arriving today!" (Fugazi and Isis) took the afternoon off and turned up with not just the money but because he knew I didn't earn much (Now I earn not such bad money I wish he could be here so I could buy him a beer and a meal and well...anything) a mysteriously "don't need this now Sam's a bit bigger" brand new litter tray, bowls, bag of litter, water dish....he was the other person to bawl his eyes out after Fugazi crossed the Bridge Years passed and how I wish I had never taken for granted that every Monday Mick would roll into the "Bells" at 7.00 then we'd do crosswords together through I was no match,. He did the "Times" cyptic in under 20 minutes but we did word games as well At the end of 1999, he got a dose of flu he couldn't shake. It was so bad he quit the evil weed and in the end he almost killed his doctor who kept saying "antibiotics are no good for flu" to get some, which worked wonders but something had shown up on the X-Ray where they'd also diagnosed thanks to his GP not prescribing antibiotics he'd been walking round with pneumonia! Tests followed and on the 1st of April 2000 he called me to tell me he had cancer I remember saying "This had better not be an April Fool!" He walked it. Told he might lose his hair and a lot of weight, his only comment was along the lines of "I don't have any hair to lose and my GP says I need to lose a few stone. Guess there's something finally to be said for being a fat and bald ba**ard". He had chemo and at the end of the course when he handed back his anti nausea meds they noted he'd only taken 2 tablets and asked him why to which the reply was "That was the time I realised a second helping of apple pie and cream on top of a big dinner wasn't a good idea". He never lost weight and was quite proud of being the only patient in the oncology department to be given a diet sheet 2 weeks before he died we were planning a celebration of his making it through the first year since diagnosis. He wasn't as well as he had been but he was still funny, still fighting as he had said he would do since he was diagnosed, the last conversation I had with him was the Monday before he died and he called to say he wasn't feeling too well so he'd see me next week but he was having back problems and "My GP wants me to go over there and see him but he'd better come here or I'll have to crawl down the road on all fours with my a**e hanging out of my pyjamas" One last funny memory would be about 5 weeks before he died and he seemed a bit down as you would be and he asked me to get a drink and I said I would but I needed to pop to the loo first. So I did and when I got back I went straight to the bar and I looked round and he had his head thrown back and I could hear his laughing over the crowd and I was so glad to see and hear it (He had a booming laugh) when I got back and sat down I said "What's funny?" The answer "You've been standing at the bar and you didn't notice you have your knickers tucked into your skirt?!" 23rd of March 2001 he woke up in the night feeling a bit queasy and went to the bathroom and dropped down dead. They had to get the fire brigade to get him out -some people said that was undignified but I suspect he'd have found it amusing. At the funeral one of the pall bearers nearly dropped the coffin Most Monday nights I make a little time to sit in the "Bells" and just pretend that come 7 ish Mick will walk through the door throw the papers at me and say "Wotcha trouble?" I miss him sometimes more than my parents Lesley Slave of the Fabulous Furballs |
#5
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Easter not good being early (OT) (And sadly long now I've gotstarted)
On Mar 24, 2:29*pm, Lesley wrote:
Feeling low today- couldn;t think what yesterday was apart from Easter Sunday then remembered it's also the 23rd of March Has it really been 7 years? Felt bad about not remembering at first My best friend, Mick, died on the 23rd of March 2001. We met almost by accident- we used to get the same bus and get off at the same stop and for a while I used to think "If the guy who looks a bit like Eric Morecombe is at the stop I haven;t missed the bus" I assume he felt the same about me "If the girl who looks a bit like Nana Moussori is at the stop then I haven't missed the bus" (I guess and I didn't spell her name right I know but the Greek lady with the glasses and in those days I had the same glasses) Then one Friday after a rotten day at work I fell asleep on the bus and Mick woke me up before I could miss my stop. That was the ice- breaker- we'd wait for each other and talk all the way home and sometimes even stand for hours on *the corner chatting. He worked for the Department of Transport (A claim to fame he would have rather not have was one of his jobs was making sure cross channel ferries were maintained properly and apparently, they were supposed to dry dock once a year but the companies could get an extension if they were able to prove they couldn't run all their routes if too many were in dry dock at once then his job would be to approve some of them to wait a while....he approved the "Herald of Free Enterprise" to wait a few more trips and it capsized on what would have been it's last run) later on when the department moved out of London he worked for the Department of the Environment where he would proudly claim he was forced to become an expert on London's sewers! He lived with his mum and his brother, his dad died when he was still at school. He was one of those clever people who never had opportunities- with his dad dying so young he had to leave school as soon as possible and get himself work to help his mum out. Later on, he took an English Literature A level and passed with a grade A and his ambition when he retired was to do an Open University degree (one of the reasons I started one was because he was encouraging me to do it if I could- I've passed a few courses but haven't been back for a few years as the courses have got too expensive). *He liked his work, his colleagues and loved cooking (I still use some of his recipies and tips), his garden and of course....his animals... He was the guy who owned the Jack Russell that introduced itself to a couple in the middle of some open air nookie by shoving his nose into the guy's bottom and a loving slave of Sam a huge longhaired tuxedo cat And he liked a little flutter on the horses and a play on a slot machine where he would always say I brought him luck if I would go away from the machine as he seemed to inevitably lose when I was standing next to him. In 1985 Dave and me moved off the Isle of Dogs (Mick was proud of being an "Eastender" all his life but at his funeral it was revealed he'd been born in South London as was the tale of the time his local priest turned up to ask his mum if he would be an altar boy on Sunday...a great honour she thought then she heard the window opening and looked round to see Mick aged about 11 bolting up the garden path! He lost all faith in organised religion at a very early age) so our meetings at the bus stop ended and every Monday we would meet for a drink after work. There are a lot of pubs in the Aldgate area we drank in. We both wanted to write and would read stuff to each other, at the time being rather shy he was probably the only person I would read to (Not even Dave has had that privilege) and he'd read his stuff back- he worked a long time on a murder mystery based in the Civil Service perhaps as a result of his job and it was good I'd wait for the next installment. Another thing he was going to do when he retired since at least with his job he could retire at 60 maybe get some part time work, do his OU courses, write his novel....used to tease him that he'd be busier when he retired than when he was working Later on we drank on a Monday in the "Bells" I often sit in the corner where we used to sit. In 1993 when we both lost our jobs and things were so tight he insisted I meet as usual in the pub and he was buying -saying "You both probably need a break right now from each other" and when he turned up it was "Been cleaning out the cupboard at home- not going to use these thought you could use them" and a carrier bag would come my way. I am not stupid- he had a cat and no way is he not going to use 5 tins of Felix! Nor do cupboards ever turn up a pack of pork chops or a packet of ham or....it was his way of helping us out and it probably kept us going quite a lot. He was also the guy who when I called him to call in a small loan because "We saw a friend last night and don't ask me how but we have two kittens arriving today!" (Fugazi and Isis) *took the afternoon off and turned up with not just the money but because he knew I didn't earn much (Now I earn not such bad money I wish he could be here so I could buy him a beer and a meal and well...anything) a mysteriously "don't need this now Sam's a bit bigger" brand new litter tray, bowls, bag of litter, water dish....he was the other person to bawl his eyes out after Fugazi crossed the Bridge Years passed and how I wish I had never taken for granted that every Monday Mick would roll into the "Bells" at 7.00 then we'd do crosswords together through I was no match,. He did the "Times" cyptic in under 20 minutes but we did word games as well At the end of 1999, he got a dose of flu he couldn't shake. It was so bad he quit the evil weed and in the end he almost killed his doctor who kept saying "antibiotics are no good for flu" to get some, which worked wonders but something had shown up on the X-Ray where they'd also diagnosed thanks to his GP not prescribing antibiotics he'd been walking round with pneumonia! Tests followed and on the 1st of April 2000 he called me to tell me he had cancer I remember saying "This had better not be an April Fool!" He walked it. Told he might lose his hair and a lot of weight, his only comment was along the lines of "I don't have any hair to lose and my GP says I need to lose a few stone. Guess there's something finally to be said for being a fat and bald ba**ard". He had chemo and at the end of the course when he handed back his anti nausea meds they noted he'd only taken 2 tablets and asked him why to which the reply was "That was the time I realised a second helping of apple pie and cream on top of a big dinner wasn't a good idea". He never lost weight and was quite proud of being the only patient in the oncology department to be given a diet sheet 2 weeks before he died we were planning a celebration of his making it through the first year since diagnosis. He wasn't as well as he had been but he was still funny, still fighting as he had said he would do since he was diagnosed, the last conversation I had with him was the Monday before he died and he called to say he wasn't feeling too well so he'd see me next week but he was having back problems and "My GP wants me to go over there and see him but he'd better come here or I'll have to crawl down the road on all fours with my a**e hanging out of my pyjamas" One last funny memory would be about 5 weeks before he died and he seemed a bit down as you would be and he asked me to get a drink and I said I would but I needed to pop to the loo first. So I did and when I got back I went straight to the bar and I looked round and he had his head thrown back and I could hear his laughing over the crowd and I was so glad to see and hear it (He had a booming laugh) when I got back and sat down I said "What's funny?" The answer "You've been standing at the bar and you didn't notice you have your knickers tucked into your skirt?!" 23rd of March 2001 he woke up in the night feeling a bit queasy and went to the bathroom and dropped down dead. They had to get the fire brigade to get him out -some people said that was undignified but I suspect he'd have found it amusing. At the funeral one of the pall bearers nearly dropped the coffin Most Monday nights I make a little time to sit in the "Bells" and just pretend that come 7 ish Mick will walk through the door throw the papers at me and say "Wotcha trouble?" I miss him sometimes more than my parents Lesley Slave of the Fabulous Furballs This was a great tribute to a good friend. Such a loving tone, it is clear how much you loved this guy. It's good to remember our friends. I enjoyed reading this, Leslie. Sherry |
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Easter not good being early (OT) (And sadly long now I've gotstarted)
Lesley wrote:
Most Monday nights I make a little time to sit in the "Bells" and just pretend that come 7 ish Mick will walk through the door throw the papers at me and say "Wotcha trouble?" Losing dear friends is definitely like losing a family member. Purrs. -- Victor M. Martinez Owned and operated by the Fantastic Seven (TM) Send your spam he Email me he |
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Easter not good being early (OT) (And sadly long now I've got started)
"Victor Martinez" wrote in message ... Lesley wrote: Most Monday nights I make a little time to sit in the "Bells" and just pretend that come 7 ish Mick will walk through the door throw the papers at me and say "Wotcha trouble?" Losing dear friends is definitely like losing a family member. Purrs. Worse. I've partied after losing some family members and was dragged to my father's funeral by the promise of being able to be totally positive he was gone. It was a closed casket funeral. Liars. Pam S. |
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Easter not good being early (OT) (And sadly long now I've got started)
"Lesley" On Mar 24, 2:15 pm, "Matthew" I am sending you a big hug from across the pond to you Lesley. Seems a lot of us a depressed right now Yeah, Matthew, I know what you mean...did you get my e-mail apology? Not depressed just very sad when I think of him, he would have been 65 by now and well on his way with his Open University course, his novel and all the other things he had planned for his retirement. All the same better to have known him than never to have known him Lesley Slave of the Fabulous Furballs Lesley, thank you SO much for sharing that beautiful story with us. It gave a a lump in my throat. What a wonderful friendship you had. HUG Kyla |
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Easter not good being early (OT) (And sadly long now I've got started)
"tanadashoes" "Victor Martinez" Lesley wrote: Most Monday nights I make a little time to sit in the "Bells" and just pretend that come 7 ish Mick will walk through the door throw the papers at me and say "Wotcha trouble?" Losing dear friends is definitely like losing a family member. Purrs. Worse. I've partied after losing some family members and was dragged to my father's funeral by the promise of being able to be totally positive he was gone. It was a closed casket funeral. Liars. Pam S. I lost 'both' my parents in 2007, and because of finances and my handicap, I couldn't go to Colorado to say 'goodbye' to them I feel so sad about that. I especially still miss my Mom who 'went home' late Aug, 2007, from a stroke. She would have been 85 on April 1. We used to talk on the phone about 4 times a week, and I can't bring myself to take her out of my phone's 'phonebook'. We always said "I love you' before we hung up. I think it's very important to tell people you love that. I love you is a powerful phrase I still weep sometimes and when I do, I swear I can hear her tell me 'don't cry for me sweetie, I'm not in pain and I'm happy' Kyla a mom who really misses her 2 'far away' daughters. (Colo and Mich) |
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Easter not good being early (OT) (And sadly long now I've got started)
"Lesley" wrote in message ... Feeling low today- couldn;t think what yesterday was apart from Easter Sunday then remembered it's also the 23rd of March Has it really been 7 years? Felt bad about not remembering at first My best friend, Mick, died on the 23rd of March 2001. We met almost by accident- we used to get the same bus and get off at the same stop and for a while I used to think "If the guy who looks a bit like Eric Morecombe is at the stop I haven;t missed the bus" I assume he felt the same about me "If the girl who looks a bit like Nana Moussori is at the stop then I haven't missed the bus" (I guess and I didn't spell her name right I know but the Greek lady with the glasses and in those days I had the same glasses) Then one Friday after a rotten day at work I fell asleep on the bus and Mick woke me up before I could miss my stop. That was the ice- breaker- we'd wait for each other and talk all the way home and sometimes even stand for hours on the corner chatting. He worked for the Department of Transport (A claim to fame he would have rather not have was one of his jobs was making sure cross channel ferries were maintained properly and apparently, they were supposed to dry dock once a year but the companies could get an extension if they were able to prove they couldn't run all their routes if too many were in dry dock at once then his job would be to approve some of them to wait a while....he approved the "Herald of Free Enterprise" to wait a few more trips and it capsized on what would have been it's last run) later on when the department moved out of London he worked for the Department of the Environment where he would proudly claim he was forced to become an expert on London's sewers! He lived with his mum and his brother, his dad died when he was still at school. He was one of those clever people who never had opportunities- with his dad dying so young he had to leave school as soon as possible and get himself work to help his mum out. Later on, he took an English Literature A level and passed with a grade A and his ambition when he retired was to do an Open University degree (one of the reasons I started one was because he was encouraging me to do it if I could- I've passed a few courses but haven't been back for a few years as the courses have got too expensive). He liked his work, his colleagues and loved cooking (I still use some of his recipies and tips), his garden and of course....his animals... He was the guy who owned the Jack Russell that introduced itself to a couple in the middle of some open air nookie by shoving his nose into the guy's bottom and a loving slave of Sam a huge longhaired tuxedo cat And he liked a little flutter on the horses and a play on a slot machine where he would always say I brought him luck if I would go away from the machine as he seemed to inevitably lose when I was standing next to him. In 1985 Dave and me moved off the Isle of Dogs (Mick was proud of being an "Eastender" all his life but at his funeral it was revealed he'd been born in South London as was the tale of the time his local priest turned up to ask his mum if he would be an altar boy on Sunday...a great honour she thought then she heard the window opening and looked round to see Mick aged about 11 bolting up the garden path! He lost all faith in organised religion at a very early age) so our meetings at the bus stop ended and every Monday we would meet for a drink after work. There are a lot of pubs in the Aldgate area we drank in. We both wanted to write and would read stuff to each other, at the time being rather shy he was probably the only person I would read to (Not even Dave has had that privilege) and he'd read his stuff back- he worked a long time on a murder mystery based in the Civil Service perhaps as a result of his job and it was good I'd wait for the next installment. Another thing he was going to do when he retired since at least with his job he could retire at 60 maybe get some part time work, do his OU courses, write his novel....used to tease him that he'd be busier when he retired than when he was working Later on we drank on a Monday in the "Bells" I often sit in the corner where we used to sit. In 1993 when we both lost our jobs and things were so tight he insisted I meet as usual in the pub and he was buying -saying "You both probably need a break right now from each other" and when he turned up it was "Been cleaning out the cupboard at home- not going to use these thought you could use them" and a carrier bag would come my way. I am not stupid- he had a cat and no way is he not going to use 5 tins of Felix! Nor do cupboards ever turn up a pack of pork chops or a packet of ham or....it was his way of helping us out and it probably kept us going quite a lot. He was also the guy who when I called him to call in a small loan because "We saw a friend last night and don't ask me how but we have two kittens arriving today!" (Fugazi and Isis) took the afternoon off and turned up with not just the money but because he knew I didn't earn much (Now I earn not such bad money I wish he could be here so I could buy him a beer and a meal and well...anything) a mysteriously "don't need this now Sam's a bit bigger" brand new litter tray, bowls, bag of litter, water dish....he was the other person to bawl his eyes out after Fugazi crossed the Bridge Years passed and how I wish I had never taken for granted that every Monday Mick would roll into the "Bells" at 7.00 then we'd do crosswords together through I was no match,. He did the "Times" cyptic in under 20 minutes but we did word games as well At the end of 1999, he got a dose of flu he couldn't shake. It was so bad he quit the evil weed and in the end he almost killed his doctor who kept saying "antibiotics are no good for flu" to get some, which worked wonders but something had shown up on the X-Ray where they'd also diagnosed thanks to his GP not prescribing antibiotics he'd been walking round with pneumonia! Tests followed and on the 1st of April 2000 he called me to tell me he had cancer I remember saying "This had better not be an April Fool!" He walked it. Told he might lose his hair and a lot of weight, his only comment was along the lines of "I don't have any hair to lose and my GP says I need to lose a few stone. Guess there's something finally to be said for being a fat and bald ba**ard". He had chemo and at the end of the course when he handed back his anti nausea meds they noted he'd only taken 2 tablets and asked him why to which the reply was "That was the time I realised a second helping of apple pie and cream on top of a big dinner wasn't a good idea". He never lost weight and was quite proud of being the only patient in the oncology department to be given a diet sheet 2 weeks before he died we were planning a celebration of his making it through the first year since diagnosis. He wasn't as well as he had been but he was still funny, still fighting as he had said he would do since he was diagnosed, the last conversation I had with him was the Monday before he died and he called to say he wasn't feeling too well so he'd see me next week but he was having back problems and "My GP wants me to go over there and see him but he'd better come here or I'll have to crawl down the road on all fours with my a**e hanging out of my pyjamas" One last funny memory would be about 5 weeks before he died and he seemed a bit down as you would be and he asked me to get a drink and I said I would but I needed to pop to the loo first. So I did and when I got back I went straight to the bar and I looked round and he had his head thrown back and I could hear his laughing over the crowd and I was so glad to see and hear it (He had a booming laugh) when I got back and sat down I said "What's funny?" The answer "You've been standing at the bar and you didn't notice you have your knickers tucked into your skirt?!" 23rd of March 2001 he woke up in the night feeling a bit queasy and went to the bathroom and dropped down dead. They had to get the fire brigade to get him out -some people said that was undignified but I suspect he'd have found it amusing. At the funeral one of the pall bearers nearly dropped the coffin Most Monday nights I make a little time to sit in the "Bells" and just pretend that come 7 ish Mick will walk through the door throw the papers at me and say "Wotcha trouble?" I miss him sometimes more than my parents Lesley Slave of the Fabulous Furballs So lucky to have a wonderful friend like that. I lost a very special friend twenty years ago this year. -- Theresa, Stinky and Dante drtmuirATearthlink.net |
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