There's been a bit of talk lately about dearly departed buddies. About 15 years ago I lost my best mate to drink, in more ways than one.
Rod was separated and divorced several times over and had decided to devote the rest of his (sadly short) days to drinking very heavily indeed. The impressive thing about Rod was that no matter how pissed he became you could rely on him to be the life and soul of the party.
One day his eyeballs turned orange. I met him in the High Street. He said " Look , me fackin' eyes have turned yella, are you comin' for a pint? We talked him into going to a doctor the next day , He was immediately transferred to The Royal Free Hospital, London. Anyway, he died. I won't go into personal feelings etc. that's another tale and Rod would have yawned at it.
A few days after he died Rod's Mum phoned up. She told me that Rod had been cremated. She thought that Rod would have liked to end up on the Isle of Man . Did we want his ashes? Of course we did! Rod was always after a stay behind and here was the chance to offer him a perpetual one. There was a rapid debate in the bar and another friend of Rod's and ourselves, Billy Quinn, was given a few quid for his fare to England and the job of bringing Rod home.
Billy arrived back a few days later. He shuffled into the bar, oh boy, did he look apprehensive! "So, Billy" we said, all smiles, because we still were not aware of the awful truth. "Where's Rod?"
Here's Billy's story. He calls at Rod's Mum's house and picks up Rod as arranged. Rod is in a pretty urn. Rod's Mum gives Billy a few drinks and sends him on his way with Rod under his arm. Billy has now got a taste for drink and decides to go on one last bender with Rod's Remains. He remembered some of the pubs he was in and that he bought two drinks each round. One for him (vodka) and one for Rod (whisky) Of course he then had to drink both drinks. This carried on for some time. There was much reminiscing and remembering old times. This must have been alarming to people watching as there was only Billy and his urn. Billy swears he felt as though Rod was with him. Anyway this continues until Billy runs out of memory and he wakes up lying on a bench in a railway station. Without Rod!! He panics and retraces his steps to the best of his memory. He gets publicans out of bed by throwing stones at their windows and shouting " I think I left me mate in yer pub, er he's about this big....." but all to no avail. Billy had returned to the Island without Rod. Rod had been lost on a pub crawl for the last time.
We interrogated Billy cruelly as to his movements that night. Everytime he remembered the name of a pub he'd been in, we got the phone number from directory enquiries. We phoned each pub and explained our predicament. I got used to the sound of stifled laughter. We never found Rod.
We eventually forgave Billy but I don't think he ever forgave himself. And that's the story of how my mate Rod Ansell was sadly mislaid to rest.
Riddler
Jimmy Breadner