I’ve just read the report above and it’s an accurate reflection of the wonderful service. It’s also nice to see the eulogy from Katie again. WELL DONE BINT!
I’ve left it a couple of days before adding my bit, to give me a bit of time to reflect on a very emotional day. I should start by saying I’m a confirmed Atheist and my view has always been that when you die they stick you in a box and that’s it. Not that I’ve ever argued the fact with Shaky, I knew his views so there would be little point.
We all went through the full range of emotions on Friday - happiness and sadness, excitement and reflection, pride, even anger. And that was just the service. Yet my overriding memory of the day was the laughter. The stories his friends and family told. The time he was floored by a low flying toilet roll thrown by a Chelsea fan at a train station, or riding a moped round and round in circles as a youngster, because the throttle was stuck, the brakes didn’t work and he was waiting for it to run out of petrol.
In many ways it was almost the perfect away day, a day filled with alcohol, laughter, friends old and new, with the added bonus of not having to sit through 90 minutes of dross in the middle of it. As I said it was ALMOST the perfect away day, except there was one person missing. Or so I thought.
Yet, on reflection Shaky wasn’t really missing at all. He was there with us for breakfast in the Greyfriars, on the train to Ulverston, in the club before the service, in the rain outside the church, in every pew of the church, on the minibus to Barrow and of course there he was in the crematorium. We didn’t leave him there. He was with us on the bus back to Ulverston and in the hearts of every single person back at a packed Farmers Arms. Meanwhile, here on the forum, in workplaces, homes and pubs across the land he was in many people’s thoughts too. It seems the old bugger was right all along – the soul really does live on, especially when it’s a North End Soul.
The day continued in high spirits, on the trains back home, in the Old Vic (whose idea was the Sambucas?) and finally on to Naseeb for supper. By this time we were down to just the 5 of us and were the only people in the curry house. After a few poppadoms and another pint I was bursting for a pee so I went to the toilet and finally found myself alone, for the first time all day...
I’m sure most of you have heard the story Michael McIntyre tells of a widow at her husband’s funeral. He loved his cheese and onion crisps and when an empty packet of Quavers flutters by in the wind at his funeral, she exclaims “It’s him!” Well, as I stood there emptying my bladder, my eyes scanned the graffiti covered walls and there above my shoulder, shining out like a beacon was a “North End Soul” sticker. I swear I could hear that booming Shaky laugh...
Happy Birthday mate, God bless.[/QUO
nice one.......
