A few years ago a friend of mine, He was a bodhran player in an Irish band around these parts. They played at our wedding party, we lived on a canal boat at the time and he was looking forward to buying a boat himself as he had recently split up from a long term relationship. I had offered to help him find the right boat, one day after an afternoon visit, when he put forward his dreams. He reminded me that the band was playing a fair ways out of town the following night, I said I would try to make it. The night was in February, 5 years ago now and it was very cold. We decided not to go. He was using the transit van that transported the band about as a sort of camper, he used to park up after a gig outside the place he worked which was also nearby. He dropped off the band and settled down with another can of Guinness and lit the 2 burner stove he had on board, to brew up and make rudimentary meals. The can of Guinness, one too many, the warmth of the sleeping bag, the lateness of the hour, the silent poisonous fumes from the device he was using for comfort, all conspired to send him into a sleep from which he never returned. He was discovered the next morning by his workmates who thought he had just had one too many and overslept. This he had done and forever and we miss him still and always will.
