Friday 7 April
Today I had a an excellent day guiding guests in St Anton, the night has been very cold but the skies were pure blue and when the sun finally hit the slopes I got my first experience of sugar powder. A heavy soft layer on top of the piste surface gives so much 'edge' that one instantly becomes a perfect skier. The guests were up for anything and with it being the penultimate time I would do this (maybe the last if there is no snow next week) I decided to take them off piste for a bit. I had also taught one of them to spin and so when the opportunity arose we twirled our way down. Synchronised twirling made a very effective video which I'll try to get a copy of.
On arriving back at the hotel I was presented by a couple of cryptic emails which in turn led to more cryptic phone calls. They ended with me talking to Franz in Holland who told me that one of my oldest friends Eddie had died.
I vividly recall the very first time I met Eddie (a sign of getting older), in the Summer of 1986, 20 years ago (another sign of getting older when the phrase 20 years trips off the tongue) we were on a course in Hereford during our days in the RAF. We had not met before but also on the course was Mickey Calthorp, a mutual aquaintence. I was conoeing seriously for the RAF during the previous year and had a couple of decent mountaineering expeditions under my belt, Mickey had come on a few of our evening canoeing sessions on local rivers around the Dutch- German border. Eddie was big into Judo and an over macho amateur body builder and fitness freak. Eddie walked into our room where I was flaked out having driven from Germany in my first car, an ex Army left hand drive Ford Cortina, a respectable first car in those days which I had picked up cheap from a contact who disposed of surplus Army vehicles. A few days later Eddie told me how after Mickey had told him about me he was expecting a serious hard man and there was this lanky thing half asleep. We hit it off pretty quickly, identifying that we were both square pegs in round holes, misfits in the RAF and only there for want of something better to do and the confidence to actually go and do it. Our first PE sessions saw me set a new record for the 1.5 mile run- just under 7 mins as I recall which finally impressed Eddie and every weekend from then on saw us heading out to the Black Mountains or Brecon Beacons for long days running up and the steep peaks- no wonder my knees are shot now. We never excelled at our work and were regarded as the wild men of the course, while everyone else was building themselves a career we were doing our own thing, which with retrospect I think was growing up.
We both put in to get posted to Headquarters at RAF Bruggen, at the height of the Cold War a very front line Tornado Station and our lack of interest was quickly noted. Our colleagues were more interested in getting drunk, a few in staying drunk although they took their careers very seriously while we thought it was banal and pointless- which it was. We since concluded that either we were capable of more and uninspired by what was required of us or just shit, we clearly didn't fit in. On very cold mornings we'd walk to work together with our freezing hands bunched into a fist in our RAF issue wolly gloves to keep them warm. We laughed when having to salute, which we'd do with the empty fingers of our right glove dangling by our ear.
We were accommodated in a block used by engineers of a Tornado maintenance unit and found some goods mates there although this set us further apart from the guys we actually worked with who all lived together in another block which was full. When vacancies appeared there was never any suggestion by us or our colleagues that we should move over. Excentrics like Reg Woolly who I could write a book about never mind a page and Paul Betts- religious manic but electronics genius and a gent.
During the early days Eddie borrowed my beloved Cortina to move some of his belongings. Not known for his great driving he managed to crash into one of those electrical sub stations mounted between two telegraph poles. This knocked out power to a nearby factory and they in turn sued me (as the registered keeper) 1 million Deutschmarks for loss of production. Intervention by the Army Legal Unit got the matter sorted and Eddie agreed to pay the outstanding balance on my car loan, which lost me a fair amount of money but not a friend.
Things came to a head on my 21st Birthday (it's like it was yesterday), it was about -25c and was snowing. Eddie and I had been out somewhere and were walking back to the block late when we came across the guys from work- 4 or 5 of them. A long awaited fight ensued, Eddie was handy with his Judo but lacked bottle and aggression. However, we managed to convince, by physical means all but one of them that ambushing us had been a big mistake. The final one was riding a heavy old RAF issue push bike which, having been bundled in the snow he raised above his head. Looking like the abdominal (sic) snowman he hurled the bike which, lucky for us was tricky to aim and missed but smashed into the ground with an almightly clatter and attracted a nearby RAF police patrol. We did a bomb burst and spent the remainder of the night trying to get back to our block like we were on a real escape and evasion. The next week we were moved to Tornado Squadrons (in my case IX and his XVII) to the satisfaction of everyone. Working on the Squadrons was far more exciting if a bad move in our careers which was of no consideration. We travelled much more and were the specialists amongst aircrew, ops planners and engineers rather than one of many as in the Headquarters.
Another memeorable occasion was when he visited my parents in Essex. My folks have owned a succession of Irish red setters, each as loopy as the other. Eddie agreed to accompany my Dad and me to take one of them to the vet's to have his glands 'squeezed', the poor lad being in some discomfort with a blocked duct. I vividly recall the return journey with Eddie and the dog on the back seat. The dog equally preoccupied with looking between the front seats to see where we were going and licking his arse which was still oozing pus and not a little of the backed up musk which was literally his calling card in the dog World. Not surprisngly the situation was very unsatisfactory for Eddie who ended up smelling more like the dog than the dog did.
Needless to say the scrapes and adventures continued for another year or so (maybe I'll write about them again, some were awesome) until Eddie met a Dutch girl and left to join the local Dutch community just over the border. This was no easy move as at the time the IRA were targetting servicemen in the town (they shot a few, planted some bombs and shot two very unlucky Australian tourists who had short hair cuts) and he was doing all he could to get round the rules to prevent fraturnisation. He eventually married Inga who despite being a member of the, yes THE Phillips family, biggest industrialists in Holland was on the mental side of excentric and had been cut off by the family. Combined mental issues on both their parts saw Eddie experiment with various Eastern religions and martial arts, an early indication of his inability to find inner peace. He made no secret of the fact that of Irish origin he had been adopted by a family of ardent Catholics in Devon and subjected to an austere unbringing with the usual guilt and lack of affection associated with the religion. This however never dampened his belief (probably for want of something else) and while we would do things with mates or girls he would invariably be accompanied by the Catholic Pardre, 25 years our senior, his name escapes me but he was a stereo-typical vicar, equally a misfit in the RAF but took well to his part in our social life. The marriage was short but had given him the taste for life in Holland where he remained.
After that I went home and settled in Shrewsbury and we lost touch until September 1994. I was in Nepal at the time with the TA and Eddie having remarried to Irma and had two children had tracked down my parents and left a number. We got back in touch and I made a habit of visiting his new family a couple of times a year in the village near Venlo. He had qualified as a teacher and was working in a Dutch senior school, I was always made welcome in a household which shunned vistors. In the interim Eddie had learnt that his natural mother had been murdered in America (most likely after he was adopted but traumatic none the less), he had made contact with his father, Walid, a bankrupt builder who flitted between his native Damascuss and Welwyn Garden City where Eddie had various cousins and half siblings with dodgy lifestyles which a now educated professional who had lived abroad for 20 years did not fit into.
With a nice house and good income but never any money (well he was always tight) Eddie's domestic life was one of friction and strife. He never really coped with family life and the children though gorgeous were disruptive and demanding in the extreme. Irma was strong and uncompromising from what I saw and Eddie was clearly unable to harness her strengths and support her needs to their mutual benefit but they pushed each other in the wrong places and remained apart in other ways, the children, interestingly did the same to each other which just wound everyone up further. This culminated in Eddie's self control failing during a domestic argument and he confided in me his deep anger and frustration at life and fear that he would seriously harm Irma. We had, like I said got into a few scrapes, one where we had gone with a bunch of friends (including the Padre- Father Tim (I remembered)) to see the Rhine In Flames in Koblenz. We had a portable barbeque going nicely in a river side park when a huge and drunk squaddie grabbed the lighter fluid and began squirting in on our food. I reacted quickly with a toasting style fork in my hand, the lout in question received attitude realignement and the lunch was saved. Eddie who could drop anyone on their arse before they even thought about it did not move and spent the rest of the day saying stuff like, "lucky you got to him first" and "I could see you had him but I was right behind you". I have often wondered what lay behind this contradiction, maybe he was always close to losing it.
Despite some counselling to help Eddie, the marriage failed and he moved out to be replaced by his friend from two houses down the road. Eddie stoically said 'at least he knew who was caring for his childen' but when the house was sold Irma and Patrick (whom I met before the split and liked ) built a carbon copy of Eddies and Irma's home it must have hurt when Eddie saw the children. His paternal moments became more and more difficult with the children eventually turning against him and the visits ended.
The following year or so saw Eddie re-examine his roots and the usual Eastern influences. We remained strong friends and with Franz, Eddie's best mate we joined in the epic performance of St George and the Dragon in a nearby village. A bit like the Passion Plays, the cast of hundreds and set the size of a football pitch was televised. We were made up authentically and had a day to remember- I'll try to post some photos.
Obvioulsy I didn't see Eddie since leaving on my travels, but Franz found my parent's number and yesterday we made contact. He told me that Eddie ahd been struggling with depression and after the full run of counselling, treatment and 24 hours a day watches by Franz and other friends, Eddie had been admitted to an institution. Earlier this week he had failed to come down for breakfast and when his room was checked it was found that Eddie had taken his own life during the night.
We chatted about what a complex character he was and how he never really escaped his demons to find happiness. Beginning his forties he was very successful as a teacher, getting the first Dutch pupils through the English BL exams gave him great pride. He had a few recent relationships but his personality was never suited to co- habitation and things finally got the better of him. Franz said he sunk so low is the last few week that all hope was pretty much lost. I have had close experience of suicide, including seeing a father of 3 shoot himself in the head a few feet in front of me, I always felt the real sadness to be that it is generally a temporary state of mind caused by chemicals in the brain and not a condition of lifestyle and the inability to cope with it. We both hope that it was quick and painless for Eddie and he found the peace he needed.
As an aetheist I believe the best we can hope for from death is to be remembered and if you are a little selfish to be missed. Well Eddie will be remembered and missed. It's the first time somebody I was close to of my age has died and I feel a bit of me has gone. No-one else knows about the stuff we got up to, there's only me to remember that now and nobody to talk to and laugh with, I guess that's another sign of getting old and it will only happen more. Bummer!
