... but here's some.
Over the last year I've lost friends who've been part of my life forever, it just keeps getting harder.
Tom Lynn, Keith Laing, Pete Little, Alan Crago (Mr RAWhite.) etc.
After the Villa match I was at the funeral of Pete Little, ex-Seaham, who I'd known in Mansfield since 1972.
Pete was one of the hundreds of children, like me, who arrived in the East Midlands when they started closing the Durham coalfields. We all gradually found each other, hitched/bussed to games then afforded cars or hired furniture vans, minibuses and eventually coaches.
We thought those days would last forever but eventually lads moved away, had families, stopped going/started going again, etc. Some of us keep in touch, some have passed and some just vanished but, at Pete's funeral, loads I'd have trusted my life with appeared and it was like yesterday again.
It was all very emotional and, sadly, I missed the wake because I had to go straight to Newark for my train back to Edinburgh and work today, but I was thinking on the train, and thought it was ridiculous that we've allowed all that friendship, all those adventures and memories to go unremarked year after year.
So we've all decided to have a reunion on the day of Pete's funeral when we can have a meal/drink/reminisce, bring old programmes, photos, newspaper cuttings, etc, tell the stories we've all heard a hundred times, laugh at how daft we were and how we supported the Lads from Southend to Carlisle and Cardiff to Hull.
For anyone who's seen the Green Mile you'll know, at the end, Tom Hanks is the old man who can never die. He's doomed to live alone because everyone he loved has passed and his only friend is Mr Jingles, the scruffy little mouse that escaped being stamped on or avoiding the electric chair ...
... well, sorry to say but that's you. One day you'll be the last man standing and wondering where your mates have all gone.
So my advice is to find the time, in whatever way, to meet up with 'Rudy' ...
... it's easier not to bother but John Prine might convince you otherwise, I hope so.
Over the last year I've lost friends who've been part of my life forever, it just keeps getting harder.
Tom Lynn, Keith Laing, Pete Little, Alan Crago (Mr RAWhite.) etc.
After the Villa match I was at the funeral of Pete Little, ex-Seaham, who I'd known in Mansfield since 1972.
Pete was one of the hundreds of children, like me, who arrived in the East Midlands when they started closing the Durham coalfields. We all gradually found each other, hitched/bussed to games then afforded cars or hired furniture vans, minibuses and eventually coaches.
We thought those days would last forever but eventually lads moved away, had families, stopped going/started going again, etc. Some of us keep in touch, some have passed and some just vanished but, at Pete's funeral, loads I'd have trusted my life with appeared and it was like yesterday again.
It was all very emotional and, sadly, I missed the wake because I had to go straight to Newark for my train back to Edinburgh and work today, but I was thinking on the train, and thought it was ridiculous that we've allowed all that friendship, all those adventures and memories to go unremarked year after year.
So we've all decided to have a reunion on the day of Pete's funeral when we can have a meal/drink/reminisce, bring old programmes, photos, newspaper cuttings, etc, tell the stories we've all heard a hundred times, laugh at how daft we were and how we supported the Lads from Southend to Carlisle and Cardiff to Hull.
For anyone who's seen the Green Mile you'll know, at the end, Tom Hanks is the old man who can never die. He's doomed to live alone because everyone he loved has passed and his only friend is Mr Jingles, the scruffy little mouse that escaped being stamped on or avoiding the electric chair ...
... well, sorry to say but that's you. One day you'll be the last man standing and wondering where your mates have all gone.
So my advice is to find the time, in whatever way, to meet up with 'Rudy' ...
... it's easier not to bother but John Prine might convince you otherwise, I hope so.
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). It has been over 12 years since then but I still miss that chance to pick up the phone/call in for a cuppa
