Our wanderings have brought us in to contact with some exceptional people, some of whom we have come to know well enough to call them friends. This man is one, a Scotsman we met in Maldon, Essex, through our children, who went to the same school.
He and his wife and three children lived in the town and quickly became an important part of the wide circle of friends which we made in that pleasant little market town.
He managed a business which made tents and marquees, and was a useful contact when we came to celebrate an important wedding anniversary as he was able to lend us a marquee to go in the garden; and we also like to think that it was he who provided the beautiful day for the event.
Like all true Scotsmen he enjoyed a drink or three, and was the life and soul of any group, be it at a party or at a dinner event. He was always such fun, always laughing, even when life didn't treat him as kindly as he deserved. He's seen in this picture with Gill at a party at our house but he and his wife hosted some of the most riotously enjoyable parties in Maldon, their Burns Night supper being one of the highlights of our year.
He was a keen golfer and was prone, after a few drinks, to tee up wherever was available. Here he is about to attempt to drive - fortunately a soft ball - along the unmade road at the front of our house, and one of our last joyful memories of him was when he visited us at Kilchoan and teed off, this time with a proper golf ball, beside the shop's petrol station. His target was one of the yachts moored in the bay which, I'm pleased to say, he failed to hit, but for years afterwards golf balls kept appearing along the beach.
He died a few days ago after years of ill-health following a stroke. That such an intelligent, vibrant man should be laid so low for so long was one of the cruelties of life. He is free now but he goes to the great 19th hole in the sky with the gratitude of those of us who knew and loved him for all the friendship and laughter we enjoyed together.
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