POEM FOR PETE BY MARK MCGANN If I could take just one last thing from you Before my time to leave this mortal coil, It’d be the way you managed to come through, Your dignity intact, your soul unspoiled. We barely had the time to say hello, Let but compare our tastes and wants and needs, Yet, cruel fate did not prevent a flow Of mutual respect from taking seed. I wanted you to know, I understand Your need to keep safe distance from life’s strain. What I had thought was fragile at first hand, I now see was but honesty, unfeigned. ‘Tis strange to feel so keen a sense of loss, And yet so grateful that our paths have crossed.

Remembering Saturday morning coffees in Lausanne and chats about cats and many other things! It was always a great pleasure

I have somehow struggled to write my 'memoir' of Peter, perhaps because it means accepting that he really isn't here anymore. I met Peter when we became neighbours in Frome just over 2 years ago. We got on well immediately & would pop back & forth for coffee & fags and such & of course I got to know Puss Cat! What a wonderfully eccentric couple they made. I tried to drive again and failed dismally so I gave Peter the old banger I had bought and I think it made a huge difference to his life; he could get out and about & to his violin classes. We came to an arrangement so that he would kindly take me to and from railway stations..and Sainsburys for our shopping! Nothing was ever too much trouble & he never let me down. We ventured to National Trust houses and he engaged totally with the history whilst I flitted from this to that! We went to an Aircraft Museum and twice I took him to the Cornbury Music Festival in Oxford - last year he was pleased to have seen The Zombies. The first year we went he took some amazing photos of Ward Thomas..and Blue! We went through our own ups and downs and always spoke honestly of life and such. He watched me go off on 'adventures' around the Globe & was always there when I returned. I recall that when I went off to Cambodia in January 2016 I felt such sadness at leaving him. He came to see my current flat with me and approved it as my next home & of course he helped me with moving & storing my bits n bobs. Peter never judged. We spoke as Liberals of politics and such. We agreed on a lot. Never argued. I got terribly cross with him when he was ill in the late summer because he wouldn't go to the doctor...I later apologised for this because of course I had no idea how poorly he was. I tracked him down when he 'vanished' and found him at the hospital in Bath. From thereon I checked in on him every day and travelled down the road with him as illness overtook him. He never complained nor was angry or bitter. He was accepting and dignified and gracious. He was always thanking me for being a good friend yet HE was such a good friend to me and I know he would have done the same for me. It broke my heart that all his savings for a new violin were being spent on taxis to and from the hospital in Bath. It broke my heart to see him get sick. I treasure my last evening with him, Margaret and Puss Cat in Frome..we had fish n chips and opened his xmas prezzies...he laughed so much at the awful xmas jumper I had bought him. He said he would try to hang on for my return from California.....that night I said my goodbyes to him....and as I did every night I called up at the open window 'Bye Pete' and he would clap because he could no longer shout......he clapped and I knew it was the last time. The next day when my plane landed in LA I got a text from Mark McGann to say he had left us. I miss him every day and I am thankful that he was in my life. I think often of him saying 'Hallo Moosh' or 'Hold on a minute darling'....he was incredibly patient with my impatience. As I write this the tears are flowing because I think that I am only just beginning to grieve.