In the wake

As we walked out

I wanted to run

And scream

Turn every table over

But I didn’t

I swallowed it down

And down

Till it grew
And they had to cut the grief out of my neck

Rotten

You will not be forgiven
But you will be forgotten
For you sir are rotten
to the core

I Remember You

I remember you.

When I was small and you would hold me in your arms, like a protective cloak, nothing could hurt me.

Your hands were rough and soft at the same time, a gentle giant.

I remember you would tell me stories in bed, complete with voices for each character.

Brut or Old Spice mixed with cigarettes, cheap aftershave, but it always smelt nice on you.

I remember you laughing, and I remember your laugh being so infectious, and usually funnier than what you were laughing I at.

Every Thursday was payday, chippy tea and a chocolate bar treat.

I remember your kindness and your wisdom. If you shouted at me I knew I had done something really bad, as your patience seemed endless until it ran out.

Late night Christmas shopping, an old lady singing along to Silent Night, you joined in. I was mortified.

I remember the late night lifts, your hard work ethic and your compassion towards everyone.

I remember the day you told me you were sick. Those words you spoke,

“At best they will try to treat me, at worst it’s 3-6 months”.

I remember falling on you in disbelief and wailing; it was the only time I saw you cry, typical that you were crying for me, not for yourself.

I remember watching you fight and being so brave, I thought you were immortal.

You showed me how to change a plug and check the oil in my car. You took a speeding ticket for my Mum. Ever practical.

I remember saying, “I won’t be long”.

I was half an hour.

I left you for half an hour.

By the time I got back, you had left me for a lifetime.

Photo albums are my favourite, I could sit and paw at them for hours, they are like a time machine without the need for plutonium.

I remember feeling like I had been suspended in the sky by my ankles, the world carried on spinning but I was stuck.

My heart was broken and you took a piece. It has since been replaced with scar tissue and I wouldn’t want it any other way, for that fragment will always belong with you.

I remember you, every time I hear your advice in my head, I see a heron standing wise, I walk in nature, or hear Steve Harley on the radio.

I remember you. How could I forget.

Goodbye my friend x

***This is a post from 21/5/17 - for some reason I never hit publish***

My heart is broken.

Jon Hall was a wonderful man, I can’t believe I am actually writing ‘was’. Last night I heard my old friend passed away, it doesn’t make any sense, it’s certainly not fair and I have stayed up trying to figure out if this is real or not.

Jon was one of the most decent men you could meet, he was always desperate to have a family and settle down, what I hope he realised is that he did have a family, a very big family of people that loved him. He embraced everyone he met and if he liked you, you were for life, he would literally do anything to help you out. I have had a lot of one on one chats with Jon over the years and quite a few late nights round at his with his trusty band of brothers, Shoo, Danny, Andy, Paul and Rob. He was a father to the world, an inspiration, enabler, dreamer and hard worker. Once Jon had his heart set on something there was no stopping him, things didn’t always work out but whatever he did he gave 110%.

I first met him through a mutual friend, Joe Shooman. Joe and I, had worked to get ourselves some passes to the now defunct ‘In The City’ music convention in Manchester, we managed to get Jon one too. Jon drove us to the event and I loved him instantly, he was funny, interesting and genuine with a real passion for whatever he put his mind to. On the drive home Jon’s car broke down on the motorway. Jon phoned his parents (who live in Wales), with no hesitation they jumped into their own car and drove to us, when they got there they handed over their keys, gave us a travel sweet each and let Jon drive us home in their car whilst they waited for his to be fixed, this was in the middle of the night! With parents like that it was no surprise that Jon was so wonderfully kind and giving, my heart goes out to them. Mr and Mrs Hall, please know he so looked up to you both and just adored you, in turn I know you were so proud of him and so you should be. I never met Jon’s brother, Tim, but I know how much he loved him.

Jon loved music, alongside family and friends that was his life and he worked relentlessly to help other people’s dreams come true. I worked with him a few times, some worked out, some didn’t, sometimes he was angry at me - but I know he never stopped loving me, just like he did the rest of his friends.

I was only saying yesterday how I missed Liverpool and some of the people in it, I had a thought I should go and visit, I missed the Spank Records family (Jon’s old record label team and signings) and I wanted to catch up with them all. I am devastated that I didn’t make the effort sooner.

Let this be a lesson, always tell your friends and family you love them, never put off seeing them for tomorrow is not promised.

Jon I know you wanted to make your mark on the world and my friend, you did that tenfold. The amount of people you have helped and inspired over the years is countless and your spirit will live on. I know you would say to me ‘but I wanted to do so much more’, but I promise you have done more than some people living to 80 years of age could ever dream of. You were golden and I am going to miss you more than I can ever put into words.