There are friends and there are close friends, Anthony was one of my very closest friends. He was and is part of me, he is in my thoughts every day, and part of me left this world when he did.
We met many years ago, first introduced by a chap called Ian Scott our stage manager at the time when Carolyn and I were working for Incubus Theatre in 1985. Anthony and Ellie lived just up the road from us in Torriano Avenue NW5. Our relationship began. Anthony and Ellie became drinking buddies. This seems so simple but it was far from simple, he drew a young man (me) into a world of philosophy, mathematics, love, poetry, story telling and added a drop of infectious enthusiasm and a love of life, “I will never die” he told me, “life is far too interesting”.
We would dive into those conversations that probably rattled around pubs all over Britain between two men caressing a lovely pint, nectar of the gods of course. These unfinished conversations went on for decades. When Carolyn and I left London to live in Brighton they became less frequent, but like the best of friends when we met up again it was like we had never parted. Anthony often shared Christmas or New Year with us in Brighton, or, alternatively joined us at the many other places we rented for festive occasions.
One of the best times for me was our great adventure. Anthony and I hired a narrow boat to cruise the Black Country. I know that Anthony was in heaven and it was a joy to witness. Grey skies, industrial buildings, Captain of his own ship, surrounded by his favourite beer, Bathams, the elixir of life, whilst revisiting his birth place and other cherished pitstops.
During this wonderful trip there were many stories to recount, here is just one which I think reveal something of Anthony…
Breakfast was one of the highlights of the day, often, after a short journey down the canal to shake off the cobwebs woven by the pints the night before. Anthony had already started a blog of sorts, if I remember it consisted of daily postings on a canal lovers’ forum. The theme running through his canal diary was our inability to source salt for the tomatoes we had as part of our breakfast which Anthony would prepare. Anthony turned this slight annoyance into a humorous odyssey of trial and tribulation as we went forth on our quest for this elusive commodity. Only Anthony could have turned the mundane into a masterpiece. His diary was to become a hit amongst the canal loving community and he was quickly becoming a canal-side celebrity. The forum was alive with excited readers awaiting the next episode.
As a consequence of this endeavour, on our next canal trip, Carolyn also part of the crew this time, Anthony was invited by a couple who inhabited a narrow boat about half a mile from our mooring for a cuppa, old timers if you like. We awaited his return expecting stories of hilarity and full of his new fans’ praises of his great salty stories.
Anthony returned, drained and rather bemused. Apparently when he arrived he was greeted with a couple of grunts, followed by a gesture to sit; silence ensued, and continued. After a cup of tea, and a polite amount of time, Anthony departed. As a result, the blog was discontinued and there was no mention of salt again!
Anthony and I also worked together on a few productions and I had the pleasure of watching him charm and entertain the actors, clients and producers as he convinced them that the only way to achieve the ultimate aim was through his unique inventive solution.
I miss him deeply, and the idea we will not drink together again is almost unbearable.