In the last week, I've had three pieces of really upsetting news. Firstly I got a letter from an ex bandmate, who played in my band for many years. He moved out of London a couple of years ago, when I last saw him. I don't wish to go into his problems were, but he sent me a letter detailing his troubles. This upset me greatly, but what was even more upsetting was that he asked if I could lend him £500. As the letter was sent from one of Her Majesties Prisons, it was a really upsetting experience. The day after I received it, I had a dental checkup. My ex's sister works there as a dental nurse and I mentioned it to her. She told me that my imprisoned friend had borrowed a substancial sum from my ex (who was best friends with my friends girlfriend). Sadly this pattern has been repeated with many other friends. The only common element is that the money is never paid back. If I thought that lending him £500 would solve any of his problems, I'd not hesitate, but sadly it will just put off the day till he has to face up and deal with his problems. Friendship is as much about saying no to requests which won't help as to going along with it out of misplaced compassion.
The next bit of news was even more shocking. For many years there was a "Mill Hill crowd" of friends, a few years older than me. One of these was a guy called Jim Meek. Jim worked for Thames TV. He was a great guy, often getting us tickets for various shows. The highlight of these was a rock series called "Meltdown", where he got me tickets for one of my favourite bands, Big Audio Dynamite. Evenings would invariably end in the staff bar at Teddington Lock studio. Jim moved to Chiswick a few years ago and I lost touch with him. Sadly I found out that last year, he'd been out drinking at a canalside pub, had too much and then fallen in the canal and drowned. The only redeeming feature of the tale was that the police said that it would have been a swift demise.
As if that wasn't bad enough, on Monday I got another tragic piece of news. For years I've been friends with a talented black guitarist called Everton. An inspirational player and a great guy. Last December he started feeling unwell and asked his son to go out and pick him up some indegestion tablets. When his son arrived home, he found him dead on the floor, having suffered a heart attack. Sadly I only just found out the news and missed his funeral.
Forgive me if I'm not my usual jovial self right now. I hope that a spell inside serves as a wakeup call for my stupid friend. I hope that Jim and Everton are at peace and my thoughts are with their families.
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