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Me, as Best Man, December 1978. The marriage was short-lived |
On Monday 14th January 2013, I published a post about someone I once knew. (Click here for details if you're interested.) Little did I know (only having found out on Sunday just gone) that a Facebook comment ten years earlier (on Sunday 13th January 2013 - the day before my post) had expressed sadness at news of his demise sometime the previous week. Well, what a shocker! (Thing is, if he's dead, who subsequently amended some of the things on his Facebook page that I alluded to in my 'piece'? But that's for pondering on another day, perhaps.)
Don't ask me how, but when I recently did a 'Google Search' to again find his FB page, there were some photos and comments from somewhere that aren't actually visible on his site, but seemingly on some other. It's only when I use one particular browser that they can be seen, not on any of the others which are available to me. (That's how I discovered the comment about his passing.) The photos show a ravaged man who looks far older than the 52 or 53 years he was at the time, likely as a result of him being an alcoholic, something he admitted to a woman he called 'Auntie Margaret' when he visited our home town sometime in the late '90s or thereabouts. (He'd lived 'down south' since late 1977.)
In case you're wondering how I know this, the woman herself told me when I ran into her around 1999 or 2000, and she mentioned that he'd been up for a visit a year or two before. She'd attended the same church as him, his sister and their parents (as in the same denomination, though maybe a different congregation) and was therefore a friend of the family, but he regarded her as an 'aunt-type' figure so that's how he referred to her. Whether she minded or not (or was actually flattered) is something I'm not privy to, not that it's important.
To be honest, I have mixed feelings about the news of his passing (if information that's ten years old can accurately be described as 'news' - though it was certainly news to me), as I now wouldn't have crossed the road to pee on him if he were on fire (as I said somewhere before). However, this guy was once one of my best friends (if not my very best friend - when I was young enough to subscribe to such a notion), so for the sake of our childhood friendship, I felt a little sad on learning he'd passed away. (I'd met him on my first day at my second primary school, on Wednesday 10th November 1965.) Strange, now, to think that while I'd subconsciously assumed he was yet gadding about somewhere, he'd embarked on the 'long sleep' ten years ago.
Sadly, he was a compulsive liar and inveterate fantasist who never seemed to realise that the 'tall tales' he told were so completely unlikely that many people who knew him as an adult regarded and dismissed him as a pathetic object of silent ridicule. Who knows what made him like that - a need for attention, perhaps? So the person whose death I'm sad about is the 6 (going on 7) to 21/22 year-old I once knew and liked, not the person he later became (or perhaps always was, but I just never noticed at the time). Undoubtedly, a large part of my small sadness is related to the reminder of my own mortality that his passing begets, but it's also to do with a life he wasted and a potential he never fulfilled.
In previous posts, I've referred to him as Billy Liar, which is probably more apt than Walter Mitty, as there was an element of pathos to Billy Liar's predicament, whereas Walter Mitty's was more humorous, being played for laughs more than anything else. I also called him 'Adam Cowie' on my blog, but his real name was Alan Bowie, which, long after I jettisoned him, he amended to Alan Bowie-McDonald - though don't ask me why. When we were teenagers he lamented the fact that he didn't have a 'middle' name, so I suggested Adam and he became for a good long while Alan Adam Bowie. (Or A.A.B. when he was writing it on lampposts and walls with a felt marker.)
Anyway, unless reports of his death are 'greatly exaggerated' (and if they are, he'll probably be behind it), that's him gone from this softly-spinning green and blue globe which hangs upon nothing, and I'll never see him again this side of doomsday. Except in memories and old photographs of course, when I still held his friendship in high regard before his slow-but-seemingly-certain slide into decadency and despair. So here's to Alan Bowie - but not the Alan he became, but rather the Alan I believed him to be before the scales finally fell from my eyes and I saw him as he was. However, that was down to him, not through any fault of mine.
Ah, all is vanity and vexation of spirit.
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The 10 year-old Facebook comment about his death, which I only saw on Sunday 17th |
(Update:) On his Facebook profile are numerous lies that bear little or no resemblance to reality, but one is so easily checkable that I'm surprisingly surprised (after all, none of his lies should ever have surprised me) at the audacity of it. He claimed to have a rare form of Motor Neurone Disease called A.T.O.L., but it's so 'rare' that it doesn't exist. I checked with the Motor Neurone Disease Association (MNDA) and they've never heard of it, even asking me what the initials stood for.
Now, I very much doubt that he actually had MND, but if he did, you'd have thought that was bad enough without having to invent a 'rare form' of it, wouldn't you? Or perhaps he just had to be different from your 'average' MND sufferer. All I can say is that I'm extremely glad I don't suffer from his overwhelming compulsion to tell great big obvious stonking whoppers. Now, you'll have to excuse me - I've got to take my new spaceship out on a trial trip to Alpha Centauri, but don't worry; thanks to its nuclear-powered warp-drive I should be back before teatime.
What do you mean you don't believe me? Cheek!
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A.A.B. in the back garden of his bedsit in St. Andrews Road, Southsea, in 1978 |
Stop The Bus Dept: I've just found a recent email from the MNDA in my Junk file, which made me wonder for a moment whether I might've been doing my former friend an injustice in regard to his 'A.T.O.L.' Here's a 'cut and paste' of part of its contents...
There is a form of MND called Amyotrophic lateral sclerosis
(ALS):
This is the most common form of MND, with weakness and
wasting in the limbs, muscle stiffness and cramps. Someone may notice they are
tripping when walking or dropping things. Life expectancy is usually two to
five years from the onset of symptoms.
I don’t know if this is perhaps what your friend had,
but it may be that he was using an incorrect acronym. There are many variations
of MND but I am not familiar with ATOL.
However, according to my ex-pal, A.T.O.L. is a rare form of MND, whereas ALS is the most common, so simply getting the acronym wrong wouldn't really account for the discrepancy. I'm therefore disinclined to be charitable and give him the benefit of the doubt - especially as there's no doubt all his other lies were definitely just that.