I can count my best friends on one hand… although I need to count one name TWICE to reach five!
Yep, four friends on my wagon – and I must admit one of them is my wife!
In reality, three friends then. That’s it!
Well, in fact we can digitally remove another of them.
So, in fact that leaves two… two fingers.
Yes me, Andrea and my best mate No 3 were like equal rights musketeers. We travelled, travailed, and tripped, bought and sold antiques – old stuff anyway – marauded round the country and planned to travel the world…
Then Jeff died. He wasn’t even old. But he was funny, irascible, awkward, looked like a Hell’s Angel and had almost a dozen children.
When he went, a lot of love and laughter went out of so many peoples’ lives.
I was working for a pan-European radio station staked by a barmy Teutonic billionaire and run by an elephant seal of a fat man, rather pongy too, a chain-smoking moron who claimed he had been trained as a lady’s hairdresser and jockey.
Once he was the ‘fifth digit’ in my handful of friends until I saw through his see-through tattered negligee of lies.
He is still here.
But Jeff is gone.
I miss Jeff…
Here is the first of two radio shows I made in his beautiful memory … funny stories about him and the music he loved to listen to as we drove over the hills and far away in search of old stuff, adventure and escape.
#broadcaster #radio #friends #enemies
