unironedman

Life goes on is one of those aphorisms we all bandy about. And of course, it’s true. Until it’s not. For a good friend, life came to a sudden end on August 28th. John Kelly was a Kildare man, and he lived on our lane. You won’t find a more decent soul on this planet. John had a few years on me, but in guitar terms, he was a seasoned pro. He played in a band called the Jazz Freaks for much of his later life, when he wasn’t teaching. I suspect he was a great teacher too.

We had threatened on several occasions to get together and cross swords, and eventually, we did just that, prior to Covid. I would pop down to his house with guitar case in hand, and the kettle would go on, and we would repair to the sitting room (to leave Mary in peace), and bang out a few tunes. Nothing was off limits, per se, but we would tend to tackle the jazz standards, like Autumn Leaves, and then throw in a few more modern folk and rock classics.

After about a year or so of noodling about, we actually did a gig in the local pub one Christmas. It was good old fun. In the picture at the top, we dragged Tadhg – the singer from Stonedown – up for a few numbers.

The weather this weekend is drab. Grey and dreary, and it has pretty much rained for three days solid. When we laid John to rest on the Sunday, the sun was splitting the stones. I had been asked by John Jr. to play a few bars of Layla with another family friend guitarist as the coffin was lowered, and it was my honour to do so.

I am missing John around the lane this last month, so I know the pain for the family will be unbearable. We had met only a couple of weeks before his death, and he had suggested we get together again for a few more sessions. That would have been great.

What of running? And the gym? And other news? Well, what of it.

Life goes on, as they say.