Of no relevence

Discussion in 'Diamond Lil's' started by brazenhussy, May 21, 2007.

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  1. Absolutely no relevance whatsoever - but feeling sad so thought i would vent -
    found out today a close friend of mine passed away last night all on his own - with noone with him.
    A little old man, 80+ who was given no help by fareham council , and was too proud to ask for help. Spent every day in the pub, purely for company.
    He was ex navy- then SAS, and although this was never confirmed - I do believe him in what he says- and the few things he told me.
    A sad day in the pub, and many people in stubbington are feeling the loss - so here's to "old bill"............... RIP. :cry: :cry: :cry:
  2. Its the one thing we are certain of Brazen, and most of the time it will be on our own, RIP, sorry to hear about your lose. x
  3. Cheers babe - he was your typical old bloke - span dits and loved chatting.
    They put a reserved sign on his`table with a pint of belhaven and a cigar -- put a lump in the old throat.
  4. Unfortunately typical of todays society,I come across it all the time in my job and it still saddens me even after 22 years doing it.
    We have SSAFA,RNA etc but sometimes people of that generation are too proud to ask for help or they are just ignored by the authorities.
    May he rest in peace knowing that at least someone cared.
  5. Of course it is relevant, and perhaps the key thing is he was appreciated in the pub and would have known that. He may have been physically alone at the time of his death but he was not alone before because he had the pub.
  6. Without wanting to sound harsh, sweet, thats life and death, chin up, remember the good times the laughs, jokes, piss takes etc.
  7. To "old Bill" [​IMG]

    I am not looking forward to going to a "Remembrance Day" parade and not seeing any of the veterans from the second world war, this will truly be a sad day...over the next 10yrs the numbers will definitely diminish and we will be all the worst off at the loss :(
  8. What grips me most is all he wanted was to help people- but when he asked for help from the council with disabled access etc he got fobbed off- and then sunday when he finally rang for help he got told he wasnt an emergency-- wait til monday - by which time it was too late - his cleaner found him!!

    pisses me off :cry: :cry: :evil: :evil: :cry: :cry:
  9. sgtpepperband

    sgtpepperband War Hero Moderator Book Reviewer

    Posted before, and worthy of a re-post:

    My Friend - Jack Tar the Sailor
    What thoughts crowd your mind, my cantankerous old friend, and what sights do you see now your eyes fill with tears. How many potent draughts of liquor, and how much nicotine and other vices have pitted your craggy skin into craters of sun-scorched furrows?
    Wild winds wail and scream, recalling the names of your long lost ship-mates. Listen! Listen as a gentle breeze blows the dry leaves. They scratch and scuttle around your feet like the sounds of shaken dice and shuffling cards.
    Now, your bed is the crow's nest, fixed high up in the galleon of your life. Over the far horizon, do you see yourself as a young lad? Do you remember strutting down the gangplank with a fistful of monopoly money and a pocket of strange faced coins? And, then seeing wide-eyed neglected urchins, low-life bars and the Seven Wonders of the World. Chinamen on bicycles selling chop-suey, traders peddling trinkets - smiling, ebony-black faces and shining white teeth � or the dhobi men sleeping on the ironing board, deep in the bowels of the ship? Are all these the visions you have gathered on your journeys to the far corners of the world? Do your thoughts turn to Davie Jones' locker and to the ends of your days?
    When you were only fifteen you travelled to the depths of smoky, grimy Portsmouth. Then your life was: Orders, scrub the deck, wash your socks and iron your gear. Followed by more orders, to march, to stand up, to sit down and to lie down and beg.
    Orders� Yes Sir! No Sir! Three bags full Sir!
    But! Then you were a sailor, a Matelot, a jaunty Jack Tar. In your number one rig, polished and shipshape, swaggering down the high street and making straight for forbidden seedy bars.
    The years rolled by, the seas rolled on and you rolled with them. You never forgot the comradeship of the hundreds of men. At the end of long watches, you'd all played uckers, poker, dice dominoes � for days on end. Arguing, shouting contests at anything and betting on everything. The smells of dirty socks and salty water. Men snoring and laughing mixed with the clanking of metal stairs and engines throbbing.
    Did your blood run cold during the battles? Guns and mortars: shells and time bombs. There was nowhere to run, you were surrounded by snarling treacherous ten foot waves.
    These were times when you hated the navy and there was times when you prayed to the God you did not believe in
    But, when your service was ended and your kit stowed away in the attic. How your life changed. You pined for your shipmates for rum and blue liners. You dreamed of frigates, carriers, choppers and seawater.
    Your new workmates were the despised civvies, in their neat suits, scrubbed and clean-shaven � who all sat in rows in fancy packaged offices and factories. All shiny and nice.
    Now, in the autumn of your life you have time, endless, tick-tocking time. Time to stare and remember. Remember the wind blowing the water white and black. Time to remember watching the curly-headed cauliflower, restless sea. To gaze at the sky endlessly stretching like a blue-grey moor. And, all the time in the world to look at the dark, menacing, approaching clouds as they slip over each other like the silvery scales on a fish.
    Your tears are for memories of the long lost comrades. Soon you will join them. Your soul will plunge deep into the jolly, frolicking, grasping depths of your beloved sea.

    A Simple Sailor

    He was getting old and paunchy, and his hair was falling fast
    and he sat around the legion, telling stories of his past

    Of a patrol that he once served on, and the deeds that he had done
    in his exploits with his oppo's they were heroes everyone

    And tho' sometimes to his neighbours, his tales became a joke
    all his buddies listened quitely, for they knew of where he spoke

    But we'll hear his tales no longer, for ol' jack has passed away,
    and the worlds a little poorer, for a sailor died today

    He won't be mourned by many, just his children and his wife
    for he lived an ordinary, very quite sort of life

    He held a job and raised a family, going quietly on his way
    and the world won't note his passing, tho' a sailor died today

    when politicians leave this earth, their bodies lie in state
    while thousands note their passing and proclaim that they were great

    Papers tell of their life stories, from the time that they were young
    but the passing of a sailor, goes unnoticed and unsung

    Is the greatest contribution to the welfare of our land
    some jerk who breaks his promise and con's his fellow man

    Or the ordinary sailor, who in times of war and strife
    goes off to serve his country and offers up his life

    The politicians stipend and the style in which he lives
    are often disproportinate to the service that he gives

    While the ordinary sailor who offered up his all
    is paid off with a medal and a pension that is small

    It's so easy to forget them for it is so many times
    that our jacks and johns and jimmys went to battle but we know

    It's not the politicians with their compromise and ploys
    who won for us our freedom that our country now enjoys

    Should you find yourself in danger with your enemies at hand
    would you really want some copout with his ever waffling stand

    Or would you want a sailor his home his country his kin
    just a common sailor who would fight until the end

    He was just a ordinary sailor and his ranks are growing thin
    but his presence should remind us we may need his like again

    For when countries are in conflict we find the sailors part
    is to clean up all the troubles that politicians start

    If we cannot do him honour while he's here to hear the praise
    then at least let's give him homage at the ending of his day's

    Perhaps just a simple headline in the paper that might say


  10. Eyes have gone a bit misty Sgt P.

  11. Brilliant - slightly misty eyed too !!
  12. I agree with Maxi. How can it be of no relevance when he obviously had people who cared about him in some way or another? As ex service he was one of ours and on that basis I'll raise a glass to the unknown (to me) sailor when I'm off watch.

  13. He was well loved in the red lion, stubbington - a little old bloke that talked to anyone - and span a fair few dits. Didnt ask for much - just a pint or two of belhaven and good company. Was always respectful to ladies and didnt like swearing. Would buy the round and not ask for one back - we hd to get them in for him as he would not take them!
    It is truly a sad day- and he will be sorely missed.

    I raise a glass to "old Bill" xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
  14. 'I wanted a perfect ending. Now I've learned, the hard way, that some poems don't rhyme, and some stories don't have a clear beginning, middle, and end. Life is about not knowing, having to change, taking the moment and making the best of it, without knowing what's going to happen next. Delicious Ambiguity.' (Gilda Radner)

    Death is hardest on those who are left behind.

    RIP 'Old Bill'
  15. RIP , went to a funeral last week , so very sad , his wife took his little Jack Russell , the dog is lost without the routine of Sam . everyone in that service looked to that dog & thought of Sam . :cry:
  16. My deepest sympathy Brazen, as long as people like you remember him, he'll never be forgotten.
    Sgt P, bloody hell mate, did it get smokey in here whilst I was reading that.

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