Carl is dead. That great big giant of a Yorkshire man has gone and died, unexpectedly and way too soon. Carl was fearless - a tough, proud working class fella with a generous heart that matched his 6 foot plus frame.
Carl's head was lately better than ever. Last year he had one brief bout. You can imagine, or hopefully you know, what that means. He was looking forward to some pain free time in his twilight years. Sadly he did not get enough.
Carl endured decades of chronic ch with no medications. So he was uncompromising in our efforts to distribute information in our uk buster wars all those years ago. This cemented our friendship. Carl and I are still banned from ouch uk, which we would laugh about every time we met. I hope some of those we upset may now understand and think a passing kind thought for him. Since then our group has sadly dissipated. So I thought to post here.
Although Carl has not been active on the forums these past few years he was often sneaking a look. He would hate me saying that. Tough mate. I want to say more.
Three years ago, on the brink, Carl saved my life. Literally. I hope all of you have a friend like Carl. Some of you did. Over the years I lost track of those he would help with advise, support and more. All in his brusque manner of course.
I last saw Carl just before xmas. He spent the whole weekend telling me he loved me and I wish I had told him the same back more than the once I did. I mostly said don't be so gay. What a w***er I am.
Going out with Carl and his wife Brenda was hilarious. They were the centre of everywhere they went. Strangers, once over a moment of fear, would soon be laughing hysterically at his jokes, their jaws dropping at his outrageous profanities. He would then produce a pack of cards and perform a magic trick. Really, his expert sleight of hand combined with his gruff approach was a sight to behold - a performance of magic with an edge of menace and a great big grin. He would then buy the whole bar a drink, insult the queen and leave.
Carl would often say all ch sufferers are mad, "We're all obsessive". I would point out not as much as him. Which was true. Not as much as you mate. For example, he took up the guitar and, practising hours each day, quickly became an accomplished player. He would ring me often playing some finger picking blues down the phone. He recently played some Bach on his acoustic for me. That was really something.
Also, a few years back he took up golf. He would golf obsessively, putting great effort into quietly improving his game. Last summer a friend entered him into the Yorkshire amateur golf championship. Amazingly, once dragged there against his wishes, Carl won. Yes, out of no where, an unknown with no form, from the wrong side of town, won. He sat in the bar drinking all day as his victory became ever more likely. By the evening speech all he could do was stagger on stage and say "I can't f***ing believe I won" and fall over. I wish I had been there. There was a black tie presentation dinner planned for a month later. The club captain spoke to Carl about "your lot from South Leeds" behaving. Carl replied that he would be bringing Brenda too. That was strictly against the rules. No women allowed. The captain added "anyway we have a comedian who can be a bit blue and we don't want to upset your wife". Carl replied "you've never met my wife". He didn't attend the ceremony.
Carl showed me his name carved in wood on the winners board dating back over a century. He was beaming. Beautiful.
Carl, aka CArl, aka guitarman, magician, musician, golfer, dog lover, buster, father, husband and more besides passed away on holiday in Spain on Saturday 5th January 2013.
