Another early story; this one was loosely based on someone I used to know.
It also leans heavily on my experiences as a barman in a seafront pub in Hastings.
There never was a group of bikes calling themselves the Old Faithfuls but, if there were, they would have been some of my customers during the cold and wet winter of 1983/84.
End of Story
I stood high on the hill overlooking the cemetery and watched as the mourners made their way back to the waiting cars.
Martin’s parents led the procession, walking side by side but apart as if each blamed the other for their son’s death.
Later, I knew that Martin’s abrasive father would complain that… “Martin had cost them plenty in life and then plenty more in death.”
But today, and perhaps for the first time ever, Martin could do no wrong.
Now don’t get me wrong, I like to think that I’m a tough enough guy. I’ve certainly been to more than my fair share of funerals.
But, as I watched all those poor people walking slowly in the rain, missing for the first time someone that they had lost years ago, I felt a tear form in my eye and, strong as I am, could find no strength to brush it away.
Later on, back at the pub, after I had said goodbye to Martin in the time honoured manner and feeling a little worse for wear, I managed to remember where it was that I had first met him. It was that night, that night when the rain…
To find out what happened next you’ll need to buy a copy of Different Roads – available from Lulu.com from 1st August 2011.
