Hilary, lads, this page is epic. Brings me to tears every time I visit but for many different reasons.
A few thoughts to the main man - my uncle (“uncky”) Martin.
Time spent together has been less and less as the years have gone by. Yet, as if it were yesterday, I can still feel and remember all sorts, which is weird because I can barely remember what I did last week! There are clearly some things that stick up there for good.
Martins shed. What a place that was. A sanctuary - a man cave. I can remember the exact smell of it. Solvents, paints, wood. Pure man. I’ve never come across anything else like it in my life. You were like a superhero to me growing up; you built the most epic of treehouses where we spent so much time playing when we visited as young boys. You always seemed to be tinkering and building things. It was so cool. Whenever I thought of you I would always think of the treehouse, the shed, your models.
Oh and obviously I would think of the “look”. That look no other human could give. That look which can only be described as a mixture of grump and rage, the look of a man willing and able to snap trees with his bare hands as if they were matchsticks. But it was totally misleading, because you were as soft as they come. You always made me feel so warm and protected as a kid. Even as a grown man I’d still get called “socky” or “darlin” or “poppet”. You were the epitome of feeling safe. Your smile and humour overwrote everything else. Im sure this will have resonated through all of us cousins, and no doubt your grandkids too.
These moments in life make you question mortality, purpose, all the deep stuff. You live on through not just the immediate family but through everyone who knew you throughout your life. That feels so important especially now as we navigate our own way through parenthood.
I could go on, you’d have probably already told me to shut up by now, so I’ll keep the rest of it for me.
Rest easy uncle Martin.
Socky
18th November 2023
