Back in 1993, I clocked a bloke from across the room wearing a ridiculous Mexican top, similar to the one I was wearing myself. We introduced ourselves and immediately struck up a friendship, week one at university.
He had an “everything is possible” vibe which appealed to my “I’m not sure what is possible” demeanour.
He saw the world as a big blank canvas while I was just emerging from the confines of my parents’ picture frame.
We shared stories, explored our thoughts and went to parties. We had the same taste in women, causing an awkward situation once, but our friendship by that point was strong and too important to fail.
He introduced me to surfing. I nearly drowned and vowed never to surf again. A month later, he encouraged me to buy my first board which, of course, I did.
He inspired me to get a summer job at Saunton Sands Hotel near Croyde, where I lived in a tent for three months and thrived in the solitude.
We made a road movie from Exeter to Falmouth. We hitched a lift with a dodgy bloke who tried to recruit us as male strippers. With his mate Roger.
We watched Pulp Fiction while off our heads.
I fell in love with Kathryn in his 2CV ❤️
In our final year at uni, we bought a van together with two other mates. We’d do loads of dumb stuff in it. It broke down eight times and the AA eventually refused to rescue us.
We went surfing all the time. We’d fall asleep at around 1 or 2 am, I’d wake everyone up at 5am for a dawny. He’s the one who got up first, for me.
We left university and had many more adventures – like Brokeback Mountain without the shenanigans!
From an avalanche of leaves floating down a mountain to an army of glow worms lighting up the night, we’ve witnessed great spectacles of nature together.
I decided to set up a business while we hiked through the Swiss Alps. We discussed the existence of God in Pau. We lost a gorgeous canoe at Symonds Yat – too dumb to tie it up. He crashed my van; I didn’t care.
He helped me find my lost passport in France, where we toured for two weeks with £60 to our names. He received both barrels from me when his actions upset me once – the one and only time I’ve lost it with a friend.
He introduced me to Cornwall. We played basketball at Perranwell School. We jumped off rocks at Treen in the buff, scrambling naked across the cliff to avoid two girls about to cross our path. We scrounged a lighter from a care home at Gunwalloe.
He drove me to my wedding in a Datsun. He encouraged me to learn the guitar. He encouraged me to keep writing. His wisdom has been a guiding light throughout my adult life.
He moved to Canada for nine years. That was tough, but I’d visit. I listened patiently to him ranting one night while we strolled Stand-By-Me-esq along the BC train track. He helped me navigate a really low point in my life via a Skype call.
We hiked and hitched to the middle of nowhere, listening to howling wolves in the distance and making art from driftwood. A moment of perfection.
Two friends in the middle of nowhere (a few hours from Whistler).
We swapped upbringings – me moving to Cornwall, him moving to Stroud.
He makes me forget my serious self. We rendezvous in my van every now and again to make sense of this crazy world.
We often meet up at Welcombe where we marvel at the beauty of it all.
We frequently talk about love and life. He tops me up when my glass is half full. We always provide sound counselling to each other when life is a mess.
Many of these moments changed my life.
My two son’s surf because of him.
What does the world need to know about this man? He approaches life with love, laughter, generosity, curiosity, warmth and calmness.
He’s written a brilliant children’s book (that needs to be published). He’s a natural musician. A hopeless romantic. He always has pudding 🍮
He’s had much to contend with in life, but his soul is untroubled. Remarkably.
Before we started “feeling our age”, he’d live life as though the sky’s the limit.
My mission is to help him get there.