On The Passing Of Old Friends

It’s the morning after. In a strange old week I lost two good friends; one fully human and the other….well, it feels churlish to be so picky.

The full human was a companion from our Saturday morning neighbours running group. George and I were tail-enders. Never able to keep up with the rest of the pack but equally never over bothered either. We set our own standards and enjoyed our own company. There was no ill feeling to the faster runners and no disappointment that the time we took to cover the distance was taking more out of our Saturday than we’d bargained for. Heck, we enjoyed the chat, and over the course of the four or five miles or more we’d sort through most of the problems of the world and return home reasonably satisfied that we’d found most of the answers.

International relations and politics was really only a distraction from the main theme however. It was music we really loved to talk about. George, like me, had an eclectic record collection and equally enjoyed discovering new things. He loved being at gigs and when he found a new artist to champion he would make sure he was there on any occasion they came to town. A few years ago I’d invited him along to one of the AC’s live events during Celtic Connections which featured a set from John Murry. Now, if you will recall, John’s songs are a compelling listen but equally often dark, stark and brutal. George loved all of it. For years afterwords he’d tell me how he’d visited unlikely clubs and bars and become John Murry’s biggest supporter in Glasgow.

If George and I ever came back a little downcast after our Saturday run it was only for one reason. Occasionally a runner from the fast pack would take pity on us and join us on our meandering journey. The outsiders wanted to talk about their work or other important stuff while George and I were only concerned with trying to recall what the last track on the second Buffalo Springfield album was called.

We didn’t keep up the running group as different priorities took over. A few years back George discovered he had cancer and we’d meet up occasionally and talk through how his treatment was going then cut straight back to chatting records again. As I’d not been so well myself I hadn’t managed to see George recently and hoped to catch up as time became available in late summer. Inevitably this was too late and my old pal passed away at home having gone downhill quite quickly over the last week of his life.

The other loss this week has been the death of our dog, Alfie. Strangely George often talked about his own desire to get a new dog and Alfie, our new pup, was coveted by him. Alfie, who first came to us in 2013, died last Sunday after suffering from blindness, pancreatitis and whatever was causing him more discomfort than he could reasonably bear over the last few weeks of his life. He was the family pet who was loved by all of us and by our friends and neighbours too. I knew my identity in our local park was to be the owner of Alf though his true owner and keeper was my wife, Lorraine. For her the dog had been the continuity candidate as our children fled and returned to the nest over the last decade or so. All of them now in their own houses it was left to Alf to be the one who needed looked after, walked, fed and watered but who returned all of that with the unconditional love dogs seem to have in glorious abundance. I’m writing this one day after we said goodbye on a tear filled morning where reason and sound judgment won over sentiment. I say this as the man who wanted to grab the dog and set him free even as the kindly vet issued the last fatal injection.

In a week where bigger stories will naturally take precedence, and worse things will happen I’m only too aware that the death of a family pet is small beer and certainly not in the same league as my dear friend, George. However, like the advice we often hear from our sporting heroes, we can only play what’s in front of us. For me, especially on this grey Monday morning, the passing of pals takes up most of my thoughts. I’m grateful to them both for the happiness they brought. It will be a balm to my soul to play you some songs on the radio. Do join me if you can.