NOVEMBER 12TH, 2004 | ARCHIVE

Friday night

Hi, just got back in from Peel’s funeral. I’m sure I’ll give you the low down on that tomorrow, but I just feel like talking about something else just now.

I’m feeling flat, calm, cold, empty; not surprising maybe after the last few days. The heating’s broke again. That’ll explain the cold bit. I haven’t really spoken to anyone since I left Sarah in Colchester to catch a bus at 3 o’clock today.

“Man doesn’t live by bread alone.” I can testify to that. What does a man need to live? What can he lean on? What can I lean on? Let’s not be too sweeping here! I’m talking about me…

God, women, the arts. That’s what I feel like when I feel this way . Friends are good too, of course, but sometimes you pass the point where you just don’t want to talk about it.

And when things get real tough there’s God and only God.

Saturday Morning

Well, that was a bit gloomy. I got the boiler fixed, then I ran out the house just to get out of the house and into the pretty morning.

I nip through the Botanic Gardens. On the bridge over the river there are bouquets of flowers on the railings. They contain messages to Uncle Davie. Did he jump? Did he slip? Was he pushed?

I cross the lawn and out of the gates. Families and kids are scouring the undergrowth for fun and antics. I get a sudden thought. I wonder what people’s reaction would be if I had a large axe over my shoulder, a little spit of blood on the corner of my mouth, and a glazed look. Nothing too obvious; pretty subtle. I wonder if terror would be struck or if people would just ignore me. It would be a fine line. Just a thought.

I walk down Byres Road. It’s a pretty freezing morning, and I’m trying to jump from patch to patch of sunlight. I see some dude with just a t-shirt on. As a concession to the near-zeroness of conditions, he does have a scarf on. What’s that about? Are you Charlie Brown? I don’t get this thing that if you wear a scarf or a hat with your summer garb that you are necessarily armed against the worst the winter has to throw at you!

Am temporarily cheered by Talullah Gosh by Talullah Gosh in the caff. You were punching above your weight with that one, girls. I wish you had done it more often.

God – A Likeness

All right, John, John, Johnny, John! Good funeral. Does that sound crazy? I like funerals. On the whole I like them, but then I’ve never had to bury any close family recently. Once one has got over the shock, and felt sad, it’s good to gather together in the sight of God and see someone off. That’s the way I look at it. It was a good send off.

It was an honour to be there. Me and Sarah were privileged to be inside. If I hadn’t made it with the music I’m sure I would have been stood outside with the even greater masses. I mean, I know it was a funeral, but it was still a better show than any show I’ve been to this year. The music was good, the speeches were funny and touching, the place was packed, the guest list was immaculate, and God added the spiritual dimension. I was just hoping that the burden of organisation hadn’t been on Sheila and the family. I was just hoping that they didn’t have to do all this on top of grieving.

When we got our seats we were pretty close to the mixing desk and sound equipment that was to later broadcast bits of Peel and bits of source music to the congregation and to the people outside. It was nice to see Peel’s usual crew, Andy Rogers and his team, stationed there, in their mourning dress. The last job they’d do for the gaffer; broadcasting Their Master’s Voice at his funeral.

The tributes were from Paul Gambaccini (who worked in Peel’s office for some years in the seventies), from his brother, Alan Ravenscroft, and from a friend of the family, Charlie Bell, on behalf of Peel’s children.

One of the fascinating things Gambaccini told about Peel was that he once stood on President Kennedy’s car bonnet so that he could get a better picture; at the President’s invitation! This was in Dallas just before he was shot. Peel remarked

“Either Harvey Oswald was the best actor I’ve ever seen, or he didn’t do what he was supposed to have done.”

Peel’s brother was funny, a very good speaker; looked just like his brother. He fondly remembered constantly playing in goal as a child, defending against John’s ferocious right foot shot. It put him off football for life.

Peel was of course mad for the game, and mad for Liverpool. His brother remembered that he had a framed picture of Kenny Dalgleish above his desk at the BBC. The caption John had put there read

"God – A Likeness"

John sent him a letter once, from America, when his brother was at an impressionable age. It was about sex.

“Remember, girls enjoy it too,” he prompted.

The loveliest part of all the reminisces came from Peel’s children.

They commented about his supernatural sense of smell, which led him to ban deodorants from the house. They had to wait until they were outside to put them on!

Their mum only allowed Peel to finally have a bank account at the age of 55! He immediately bought a large American car, a Thunderbird I think it was.

He collected two pound coins. The collection was paying for the headstone, something they thought he would be particularly happy about!

Well, afterwards I just remember nipping out, a lot of people milling around. We headed for the train station and got the hell out of there, taking our thoughts and reminisces to the road back home.

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