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Last Tuesday night I was doing my usual weirdo nonsense by ignoring the Champions League to take in Partick Thistle against Queen of the South. Phone went in the closing stages of the 1st-half, and it's my dad, or Old Grumpy as he's affectionately known.
He was saying one or two words, then stopping. I got the fright of my life. Thought he was having a heart-attack and he'd remembered he needed to phone and moan at me for not shaving before running towards the light.
It was actually a display of emotion from a guy who's done that only once before. He told me my big wee cousin Paul had died.
"Bawheid!" to me. "Big Paul" to everyone else.
You know those gentle giant types? The sort you've never heard anyone say a bad word about? I bet even Joe O'Rourke would've liked him, especially with a name like Paul. (My granda didn't talk to his maw for about 3wks because of that!)
EVERYBODY knew him.
But I had the good fortune to grow up with him.
We were at our grandparents house together each weekend
We were in Clune Park Primary together - P1 & P7
We went to Juveniles together
We sat in Row I Seat 34/35 of the Copland Rear
We were first and third on the Bouverie ticket list, because I was more loyal than he was
We attended footballing abortions such as Dalbeattie Star vs. East Stirling for reasons of ironic humour, soul-crushing boredom, and both of us yet to find the one woman daft enough to take us
And when big Mark announced he was off to Portugal for the Sporting Lisbon game on the day of my wedding that saved me thinking about it, and Paul was my Best Man, receiving a bottle of Blue MD20/20 and a collectors edition Coronation Street clock, retailing at 50p in Wilkos.
She took so long getting out the motor that Baby I Love You by the Ramones had finished and gone on to I Can't Make It On Time! Then all round for a Businessman's Lunch.
Even though he never, ever gave me the £13 for that Dunfermline ticket that he owed me, we both grew up without brothers and sisters, so I basically regarded him as my wee brother.
Fair to say I'm not the only one who'll miss him.
You don't expect it at that age, and Paul didn't have life insurance so Jen has set up a Just-Giving. The URL in the Greenock Telegraph isn't entirely correct, so I'll post it here.
Jennifer spent last year in an unknowing, terrifying, battle with cancer and this means that she still isn't working. Not only that, in the middle of her radiotherapy sessions she was hit by Covid-Pneumonia and was lucky to survive that, let alone the other. She is truly an extraordinarily brave woman.
justgiving.com
And lovely little Lucy was diagnosed with Type 1 diabetes too just recently. Lucky white heather, eh? I've never seen a family have a year like it, and I'm honestly just numb.
(Please put aside your feelings regards me. He was as much one of the nicest people you could ever hope to meet as I am an arsehole, and I'm happy to admit that. I'm not a nice person. He was the Best Man in more ways than one. Goodnight, Bawheid. I love you Cuz.)
Last Tuesday night I was doing my usual weirdo nonsense by ignoring the Champions League to take in Partick Thistle against Queen of the South. Phone went in the closing stages of the 1st-half, and it's my dad, or Old Grumpy as he's affectionately known.
He was saying one or two words, then stopping. I got the fright of my life. Thought he was having a heart-attack and he'd remembered he needed to phone and moan at me for not shaving before running towards the light.
It was actually a display of emotion from a guy who's done that only once before. He told me my big wee cousin Paul had died.
"Bawheid!" to me. "Big Paul" to everyone else.
You know those gentle giant types? The sort you've never heard anyone say a bad word about? I bet even Joe O'Rourke would've liked him, especially with a name like Paul. (My granda didn't talk to his maw for about 3wks because of that!)
EVERYBODY knew him.
But I had the good fortune to grow up with him.
We were at our grandparents house together each weekend
We were in Clune Park Primary together - P1 & P7
We went to Juveniles together
We sat in Row I Seat 34/35 of the Copland Rear
We were first and third on the Bouverie ticket list, because I was more loyal than he was
We attended footballing abortions such as Dalbeattie Star vs. East Stirling for reasons of ironic humour, soul-crushing boredom, and both of us yet to find the one woman daft enough to take us
And when big Mark announced he was off to Portugal for the Sporting Lisbon game on the day of my wedding that saved me thinking about it, and Paul was my Best Man, receiving a bottle of Blue MD20/20 and a collectors edition Coronation Street clock, retailing at 50p in Wilkos.
She took so long getting out the motor that Baby I Love You by the Ramones had finished and gone on to I Can't Make It On Time! Then all round for a Businessman's Lunch.
Even though he never, ever gave me the £13 for that Dunfermline ticket that he owed me, we both grew up without brothers and sisters, so I basically regarded him as my wee brother.
Fair to say I'm not the only one who'll miss him.
You don't expect it at that age, and Paul didn't have life insurance so Jen has set up a Just-Giving. The URL in the Greenock Telegraph isn't entirely correct, so I'll post it here.
Jennifer spent last year in an unknowing, terrifying, battle with cancer and this means that she still isn't working. Not only that, in the middle of her radiotherapy sessions she was hit by Covid-Pneumonia and was lucky to survive that, let alone the other. She is truly an extraordinarily brave woman.
Help raise £2000 to To help Pauls family after his sudden passing. He is leaving wife Jen who suffers from breast cancer and young daughter Lucy behind
Weʼre raising money to To help Pauls family after his sudden passing. He is leaving wife Jen who suffers from breast cancer and young daughter Lucy behind. Support this JustGiving Crowdfunding Page.
justgiving.com
And lovely little Lucy was diagnosed with Type 1 diabetes too just recently. Lucky white heather, eh? I've never seen a family have a year like it, and I'm honestly just numb.
(Please put aside your feelings regards me. He was as much one of the nicest people you could ever hope to meet as I am an arsehole, and I'm happy to admit that. I'm not a nice person. He was the Best Man in more ways than one. Goodnight, Bawheid. I love you Cuz.)
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