The RIP Thread

Shocking news.
So very sorry to have heard this news.
Condolences indeed.
RIP.

 

Sincere condolences to you WLW and all your family at this most painful time.

 

My deepest sympathies to you and your family, Willy.

 

Just wanted to share an amazing and emotional tribute shared on Facebook, by the band ‘The Alabama 3’ In honour of the amazing Rev D Wayne Love who died recently.
It’s gonna be an emotional night when they play in Brixton
(It’s quite long but worth a read)

Dear Friends,

All of you who knew and loved our dear departed Comrade and Teacher Jake Black, A.K.A the Reverend D. Wayne Love will understand why things have been a little quiet on this page for the last month or so. Its been a time of tears and reflection, also laughter in sharing our memories of this most brilliant man.

Some of you, many of you, might be wondering how, or even if, we intend to carry on without the Reverend. Those of you who have truly absorbed his teachings will realise that such thoughts amount to Heresy.
D.Wayne will never die - and his teachings carry on even as he assumes celestial form. Our Exile on Coldharbour Lane tour at the end of the year, will not be a memorial, but a celebration of his Ascension to Higher ground. He will be very much on stage with us, even if we have to blow the entire budget on animatronics and taxidermy. In the meantime, we thought we’d share with you this Eulogy for the great man, delivered by The Spirit at his funeral at Possill Park Chapel on Saturday the 15th of June 2019.

Eulogy for Jake Black

The first time I saw Jake I was 26 years old and hanging about with a bunch of queer anarchists in a tower block on the outskirts of Brixton. He was this skinny Scottish bloke in a Burberry cap, who lived in another flat up the stair. If I’m honest, I didn’t take much notice of him, but that might’ve been because I couldn’t understand a bloody word he was saying. He seemed nice enough; just another Chav - as we used to called them - looking to score.

A year later I bumped into him at a party in the railway in Brixton. He was very friendly, even if I still couldn’t understand a word. And it confused me that he seemed to keep breaking into french modernist poetry. I wondered if he might be schizophrenic. He asked me what I was up to. I told him I was on my arse, looking for a room. His eyes lit up, and after a brief discussion we shook hands on thirty quid a week.

It worked out pretty well for the first month or so. It was a two story, two bedroom flat with a nice big living room which he shared with his cat, Ice Cube, named after his favourite rapper. I didn’t see much of him to be honest - he was either out and about or holed up in his ‘scratch’ as he called it, reading paperbacks and listing to John Coltrane, Charles Mingus and Thelonius Monk. It was a paint-spattered boombox that sat on the shelf above his bed, next to his bottles of mysterious blue liquid.

He seemed impressed when I showed him how to fiddle the budget electricity meter with the switch from an electric lighter, and I was impressed by his tape collection, and his tales of hanging out with Orange Juice, and editing their fan club magazine with his teenage sweetheart Kirsty.

It was okay. He was pretty chilled out - a bit feral, but then so was I. Yeah, pretty good for a month or two. Until I got behind on the rent.

At this point you could say I saw another side of the man. He proceeded to describe, in intricate, excruciating detail exactly what he was going to do to me if i didn’t come up with the money. A pair of pliers was involved, and it culminated with him throwing me out the ‘Windy’. A threat made more convincing by the fact we were living on the nineteenth floor. I think at that point I got a real sense of where he came from.

I remember waking up in the morning to a dreadful Steve Earl cover by some band he said he was in. Alabama something. ‘He’ll never get anywhere with that’ I thought to myself…’and he’s far too old to be in a pop band.’

We had to move out pretty soon after that. He hadn’t paid any rent for at least three years, and there was some issue about theft of electricity. I met him in the Prince Albert a week later, to give him the rest of what I owed him. I apologised profusely for being late, and he apologised for going all Possil on my Ass. He seemed depressed.

‘I’m just an auld ****’ he said. He was 35 years old.

Four years later, we’re on the main stage at Glastonbury, playing that Steve Earle cover to 5,000 people. Two years after that, we’re in Hollywood, playing on the Jay Leno Show, and Jake’s hobnobbing with Kevin Spacey in the green room, in double breasted suit and wraparound shades. Funny old world…

Over the next twenty years, I had the privilege of sharing stages with Jake all over the world, and getting to know this most original, funny and brilliant of men. I was supposed to be the posh, educated one, but Jake’s knowledge of literature, film, music and politics put me in the shade. In time, I learnt to understand at least 70 per cent of what he said, and it was worth it. Rarely have I met a man with such charisma, wit, and what used to be called ‘range’. One minute he would be expounding the merits of an obscure classic of Italian New Wave cinema, the next regaling you with his pitch perfect Bill Burroughs impression:

“Smash the control images… Smash the control machine…”

By the end, we had bonded, and I’m proud to say we were fast friends. There was an immense sense of freedom with Jake. He was a citizen of the world; in his own words he could ’talk to anybody’. This was demonstrated when he stayed with my Mum in Istanbul. Not speaking a word of Turkish, he befriended a room full of Turkish Football fans, scoring two sought-after tickets to see the Legendary Fenerbache football club. He had that kind of charisma. He was Present. He was Alive. He was there…he was Heavy.

And he got around. He was a hep cat. He was solid gold.

Our relationship wasn’t easy in the early days… if you crossed him, he could assassinate your character with merciless precision, at great volume. But as the years went by he attained a depth of sensitivity and wisdom. Some people get worse as the years go on. Jackie just got better and better. He evolved.

After gigs, while the rest of us were getting coked up in the back of the bus, Jake would be reclining in front of the big screen in the downstairs lounge, watching Werckmeister Harmonies by Bella Tarr with a nice glass of Pinot Noir. Hanging out with Jake, at those moments, was pure sanctuary.

He just had this extraordinary breadth of character - He could be deadly serious, and gloriously silly. He could be viciously cruel, and beautifully kind. He was intensely melancholy, and wonderfully joyful.

He was so High you couldn’t get over him

So wide, you couldn’t get around him

So low, you couldn’t get under him

The mighty Jake.

Goodbye mate.

 

Thanks all for your messages and comments - it's a very surreal time still, getting pestered by the press and trying to deal with the situation as best we can. The messages help, they really do.

I wanted to share the tribute posted by Andrew's wife Lissie. The words speak very much for themselves.....

*****

To my best friend,

The kindest, loveliest, most selfless person you will ever meet. You were brave, funny, and always there for anyone who needed it.

There is not enough paper in the world to even begin to write a tribute for you, but no one deserves it more.

We had so many plans for the future, you wanted to do it all. My darling boy I do not know how I will be able to survive without you.

Anyone who was lucky enough to meet you, whether they knew you as Andrew, Andy, Uncle Mann, Harps or PC Harper ... to everyone you are a hero.

You had the best sense of humour and never took life too seriously. You treasured every moment and always had a smile on your face.

I want to be angry that your job took you away from us but I know you loved it and always wanted to keep everyone safe, especially me. You went the extra mile whenever you could and genuinely cared for everyone.

The lights have dimmed on all of our lives now that you are no longer here, but it’s no surprise that even when you're gone, you're still keeping us all going, knowing that you would tell us to carry on and stay strong.

I can't begin to imagine a life without your silly jokes, size 14 feet, large appetite, big hugs, Sunday roasts, and never faltering positive attitude. You kept me going if I was down and took care of us all until the last.

Even now I can still hear you nagging me to brush my teeth, get dressed and eat something. We are all feeling so very lost without you but we are trying to be as brave as you were.

You have so, so many friends my love and everyone loves you. The messages, support, and kind words about you have been overwhelming and I can't thank everyone enough for that.

You loved music, movies, travel, every animal in the world, messing around with our brothers, and chilling out with our sisters. You loved our families, every single one.

You loved to go on adventures and find new places to explore. If there was a mountain to climb, you'd be there at the top. Bike rides and long walks, you loved it all. Never still, never down, so full of life.

You could fix absolutely anything and always took time to offer help to family, friends and neighbours. A pillar of strength to everyone you met.

My heart is broken without you my sweetheart but my god I feel so lucky that it was me you chose to share your amazing life with. You have imprinted so much love and laughter onto all of our lives and we are honoured for that.

Although we were married for only 28 days before you were cruelly taken away from me, my husband you were perfect. I will never ever stop loving you and I feel so grateful for the happiest thirteen years of my life.

Our superman, our bodyguard, our light in the dark. My god we will miss you. Forever you will be remembered as the best of us.

I will carry your love with me always.

Your loving wife, Lissie x.

 

heartbreaking tribute. Rest in Peace PC Harper

 

Former Ghana, Nottingham Forest and Bristol Rovers striker Junior Agogo has died at the age of 40.
Agogo, who began his career at Sheffield Wednesday, played 27 times for his country and scored 12 goals.
He finished his career at Hibernian in 2012 having also had spells in the United States, Cyprus and Egypt.
Agogo suffered a stroke in 2015 and struggled with his speech afterwards, telling a BBC Four documentary in 2017 he felt anxious about his language.

 

Squadron Leader John Hart, Battle of Britain's last surviving Canadian pilot, dies at 102
With the passing of John Hart there are now just four survivors of 'The Few'

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Squadron Leader (retired) John Stewart Hart celebrated his 100th birthday on Sept. 11, 2016. He was the last known surviving Canadian pilot who flew in the Battle of Britain.rcaf-arc.forces.gc.ca

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The Telegraph
August 23, 2019
10:42 PM EDT
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Squadron Leader John Hart, Battle of Britain's last surviving Canadian pilot, dies at 102

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Squadron leader John Hart, who has died aged 102, was the last surviving Canadian Battle of Britain pilot. He went on to serve on fighters in Burma and in Italy, where he won the DFC.
Hart arrived on No. 602 Squadron on Sept. 24, 1940, when it was flying from Westhampnett near Chichester. Although the intensity of the fighting had eased somewhat, Hart and his colleagues were scrambled on a daily basis to intercept raids approaching the south coast. On Oct. 12, Hart’s Spitfire was seriously damaged during an engagement with Messerschmitt Bf 109s in fighting over the English Channel, but he was able to return safely.
During the afternoon he was again on patrol when his formation of three aircraft attacked a Junkers 88 south of Beachy Head. Their combined attacks resulted in the German bomber crashing into the sea.

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John Stewart Hart, wearing his tropical uniform while serving in India, was involved in numerous operations while serving as a pilot during the Second World War. Courtesy of John Hart
After a few days of reduced activity, the Luftwaffe mounted a large-scale operation at midday on Oct. 29. Five Spitfire and four Hurricane squadrons were scrambled. In the ensuing battle over Kent, 11 enemy fighters were shot down, one of them by Hart. This proved to be the last major action of the Battle of Britain.
John Stewart Hart was born on Sept. 11, 1916, in Sackville, N.B. He attended Mount Allison University, having learnt to fly at the Halifax Flying Club. Growing bored of working with the fishing fleets on the east coast of Canada, he travelled to Britain and obtained a short service commission in the RAF in June 1939.
His flying training completed, he was posted to an Army co-operation squadron, but a serious car crash interrupted his progress. After recovering he trained on fighters before joining No. 602 Squadron.
In November 1940 Hart shared in the destruction of a Junkers 88 bomber before joining No. 91 Squadron. In October he was rested and spent almost a year as a fighter instructor before he left for India. In February 1943 he joined No. 79 Squadron flying Hurricanes on ground attack operations in support of the Fourteenth Army.
Three months later he took command of No. 67 Squadron in Burma flying escort to bomber formations and transport aircraft parachuting supplies to the ground forces. Hart continued to fly on operations until September 1944, when he left for Egypt to command an air gunnery school. In March 1945 he joined No. 112 Squadron based in Italy. After just two familiarization sorties in the Mustang, he flew his first operation in the American-built fighter.
On March 3 he led a formation to attack the Carsara rail bridge, which carried one of the principal railway lines into Italy from Yugoslavia. The raid was a success and the railway line was cut. A second attack in the afternoon hit the bridge.

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In April Hart assumed command of the squadron and, during the final weeks of the war, he led many ground-attack sorties.
On April 9 he was strafing gun positions near Bolognese when his aircraft was badly damaged. His wingman reported: “He flew home with a man-sized hole through the tailplane and a smack in the ammo bay.”
As the Germans retreated north of the River Po and towards the Austrian border, Hart and his pilots attacked their transport and the temporary pontoon ridges across the numerous river obstacles.
He led formations to attack the railway system and, on one sortie, 11 locomotives were successfully attacked. A few days later more were damaged. On May 2 he led an attack into Austria when five railway engines and three trucks were damaged.
The war in the Balkans continued into early May and Hart led patrols over the Istrian peninsula on the 3rd — two days later the squadron was stood down.
A few weeks later Hart was awarded the DFC, the citation highlighted his “skilful leadership, great determination and devotion to duty”.

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The Battle of Britain Memorial flight (a Hurricane left and Spitfire right) performs at RAF Fairford on July 21, 2019 in Fairford, England. Matthew Horwood/Getty Images
Hart was released from the RAF in 1946 when he returned to Canada and settled in Vancouver where he became involved in real estate, specializing as an appraiser. He retired in 1976.
On his 100th birthday, the Royal Canadian Air Force celebrated his birthday with a fly-past over his home. Later in the day he took off in a Harvard wartime training aircraft. When asked how it flew, he replied: “It handled like a logging truck – nothing like the nimble Spitfire.”
With the passing of John Hart there are now just four survivors of “The Few”.
John Hart married his Scottish wife Joan in 1942; she died in 1977. He was married to his second wife Bette for 35 years; she also predeceased him. His three children survive him.

 

I here mike Ferguson has died, remember watching him & a left winger I think not a fancy or flair player but good honest pro.
RIP

 

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Seems like yesterday. RIP

 

War hero who was famously photographed flicking a V-sign at the Germans after being taken prisoner at the Battle of Arnhem 75 years ago dies at the age of 97

• WWII hero Jack Reynolds, from Chichester, has died in his sleep at the age of 97
• Served all across Europe as a gunner and later in the airborne divisions
• He was captured at Battle of Arnhem in 1944 where he gave a German photographer the 'V sign'
• After being freed in 1945 he returned home and married the sister of his commanding officer

By William Cole For Mailonline
Published: 10:58 AEST, 30 August 2019 | Updated: 23:24 AEST, 30 August 2019

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Liuetenant Jack Reynolds has died aged 97. He joined the Army aged just 17 and served all across Europe during the conflict
A war hero who was famously photographed flicking a V-sign at the Germans after being taken prisoner at Battle of Arnhem 75 years ago has died.
Lieutenant Jack Reynolds' plucky act of defiance towards his captors provided one of the most iconic images of doomed Operation Market Garden.
The officer and his men were overrun by the Germans several days after 10,000 British airborne troops landed behind enemy lines in Holland in September 1944.
As they were being marched away Lt Reynolds spotted a grinning German cameraman shooting a video of the vanquished Brits.
Out of a combination of anger and frustration, he gave the two-fingered salute at the camera.
'I was so angry at the loss of fine young men and the carnage. Down the road I saw a German chap with a camera and a huge grin on his face and I thought what a b****** and gave him the opposite 'V' sign,' he later said.
'It was an act of defiance but a momentary lapse of military discipline, which given the circumstance seemed totally justifiable!'
Lt Reynolds, who had lied about his age to join the army, spent the rest of the war in a PoW camp in Brunswick, Germany, alongside his commanding officer, Captain AH Willcocks.
After being freed when the camp was liberated by US forces in April 1945, he returned home and met and married Eulalie Willcocks - the younger sister of his commanding officer.
The couple lived in Pulborough, West Sussex, where he remained until his recent death aged 97. His wife died 13 years ago.
Friends and historians have now paid tribute to the decorated war veteran.

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He was famously photographed flicking a V-sign at the Germans after being taken prisoner at Battle of Arnhem 75 years ago. Liuetenant Jack Reynolds' plucky act of defiance towards his captors provided one of the most iconic images of doomed Operation Market Garden
Historian Steve Penticost interviewed Lt Reynolds for the book 'Military Voices; West Sussex Veterans in the 20th Century.'
He said: 'Men like Jack Reynolds seemed to have an indomitable spirit and rarely showed any signs of frailty.
'People today talk about World War Two veterans being heroes but Jack didn't have any truck with that - he was just doing what he had to.
'He went to just one Arnhem reunion and that was the first one.
'He felt they had let down the people of Arnhem terribly because they suffered reprisals at the hands of the Nazis for helping the British.
'He felt partly responsible and couldn't face those people.
'Some years after the war a German newspaper contacted him out of the blue and sent him this framed photograph of him giving the V-sign.

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He was posted to Dover to man a 12 pound gun aimed at German E-Boats in the English Channel. Frustrated by the lack of action he joined the 1st Airborne Division and took part in the invasion of Sicily in July 1943

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Picture taken in Eindhoven showing gliders heading on towards Nijmegen and Arnhem during Operation Market Garden
'It was an iconic image of Arnhem and one that he was very proud of because it summed up exactly what men like him felt, even though it wasn't the conduct you'd expect of an officer.
'When I visited him he had this photo hung up on the wall of his lounge.'
Lt Reynolds was aged 17 at the start of the Second World War - a year below the legal age to join the army.
He had wanted to follow his older brother Arthur into the armed forces and so lied about his age. managing to join the Sussex Yeomanry and trained as a signaller.
But when his real age was discovered he was sent off to South Wales for more training rather than France and the thick of the action.
While there he was recommended for a commission and joined the Royal Artillery.
He was posted to Dover to man a 12 pound gun aimed at German E-Boats in the English Channel.

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Frustrated by the lack of action he joined the 1st Airborne Division and took part in the invasion of Sicily in July 1943.
He was awarded the Military Cross for his part in seizing and defending a bridge in Sicily while under heavy enemy fire.
For Arnhem, Lt Reynolds was in the first wave of glider borne troops, landing on September 17.
He was sent off on a reconnaissance mission on the back of a motorbike but encountered German sniper-fire which disabled their vehicle.
He continued on foot until he saw German infantry and Panzer tanks when he retreated and reported back to battalion HQ.
The next day the men marched towards Oosterbeek, near Arnhem, and came under heavy talk fire. Lt Reynolds went forward alone to find out the strength of the opposition.
But he became cut off and spent several days behind enemy lines. When he finally made it back battalion HQ it was completely overrun by the Germans and the men were forced to surrender.
It is understood Chichester-born Mr Reynolds died in his sleep in West Sussex on 22 August.

 

bumped into Mike Ferguson in a pub in Northolt (the name escapes me, now a McDonalds). Down to earth guy, we spoke of his best game in a hoop shirt against Oxford. Rest in Peace Mike

 

The Target?

 

yes that's the one

 

Wasn't far from my old high school (the pub, not the McDonalds) - it was a pretty **** boozer if I remember well, we used to used to go there as you'd get served without any ID!

 

E-ba-gum, Mugabe’s departed.

 

Sadly missed by
Erm
Erm
Erm

 

Comrade Mugabe will be sadly missed.....a true freedom fighter
RIP Leader

 

How many did I get with the above

 

RIP.