Oh come all ye faithful

The Varsity rugby match has traditionally been the start of my Christmas build-up. It used to be the only game of rugger I could temp my old mate Figs to go and see. We would have a belter of an evening and things kicked on from there.

These days the pre-Christmas alcoholically dominated lunches are few and far between so I have to make extra efforts to find and attend them. There have been a couple of Turkey Trot events at the golf club, and we have just returned from the London branch Christmas party weekend which was very enjoyable.

With only a few days to go though, I might be a little bit too sober for the Christmas festivities, of which I am less and less a fan as I enter my twilight years. I am off to Chester tomorrow to continue an IBM Northern tradition of red wine and lunch with Cookie. We have been doing this sort of thing for years and as neither of us could make the bigger do in Manchester last week we are having a cosy twosome in a suitable establishment.

Last night I went to the Liverpool Anglian cathedral where oldest ankle biter, Ava, was in her school choir. They were very good but most of the other choirs were not, and at times it felt we were in a requiem mass rather than a jolly Christmas event. Come on Radio City, buck your ideas up for next year.

Ava was amazed by the cathedral however, and she had every reason to be. It is the largest cathedral in the UK, and the fifth largest in the World. It was completed only as recently as 1979 and took 74 years to complete. Giles Gilbert Scott, a 22 year old, won a competition to design and build the cathedral, and he had to wait until 1942 before he could lay the final stone on the massive tower, which at its highest point is almost 100 yards above the cathedral floor. He sadly died in 1960 and was unable to see his life's work completed. For a choir of seven and eight year olds to bash out a few carols in such a structure must have been an amazing experience, as it was for us to watch Ava and her class mates do so.

I have one problem with the cathedral, and that is caused only by my warped mind. Above the great entrance there is a neon sign in the handwriting of Tracey Emin. It is therefore a prominent work of art. It reads ' I felt you and I knew you loved me'. Strange words to have in a church, given the current trend for tabloid exposes of the clergy!

In the style of Private Eye, to which he was a long time subscriber:

In Memoriam
Paul Figgins

So Farewell then Figs
Our long time friend

He was a cricket man
a wicket keeper
of some regard

In a famous best man speech
'Bowled a maiden over' and
'Tickles to leg'
Both Raised a chuckle

It's what he did

Like all great batsman
An unexpected stroke
Ended his Innings

Classy but too short.

E J Thribb (17½)

Figs didn't make it

In the two weeks since my last post, Figs had continued to improve with his arm and leg gaining more mobility and his mind getting back on track. he was doing crosswords and watching the Olympics although he was struggling to pick his horse racing tips as the print size was a bit small for him. He had a heart assessment appointment at Herrfiled Hospital booked for next week when they thought he might have some sort of procedure to help his heart function.

All this was conveyed to me in a phone conversation we had on Monday. On Thursday morning I got the sad news that he had passed away in his sleep. Marion is devastated but has her sisters and close friends there to help her through this difficult time.

I first met Figs in the mid seventies when he joined me to work at IBM in Croydon. We have been friends ever since. He was a reasonable goal keeper in his youth but he dislocated a knee in a game and that put pay to that sporting pastime, so we started playing golf together. We were both members of Wyke Green golf club as we became neighbours in Chiswick in West London, and he moved in with me for a short time while between girlfriends.

It was then that we hatched the plans for a mega barbecue, to be named Le Limacon after the slug population which infested the Silver Crescent flat when I first moved into it. Invitations to these events were valued, and each year we introduced a different theme. We had pub sign parties, music albums parties, a Hawaiian shirt 'do' and many more. I won't say we chased the same girls but the barbies were certainly a useful way to meet the fairer sex. Indeed SWMBO and I first met face to face at one such, all those years ago.

For many years Figs and I also went to Lord's together usually on the Saturday, but once we did all five days of an Ashes test which the Aussies won on the final morning. That tradition stopped when Figs got his gig at the Wimbledon tennis championships, and he was still working for them right up to the end.

He could be a stubborn individual and was particularly fussy about his drinks presentation. In my personalised Monopoly set, there is a property called Figgins Way, which summed him up really!

He certainly lived a full and frenetic life, and I am very proud to have been a part of it for nigh on forty years, he will leave a large gap in my life. SWMBO and I had our annual 'do' at the weekend, it's not called Le Limacon anymore and it has moved to the Wirral. The timing was poignant and  I think Figs would approve of it as a fitting memorial. Rest in peace matey.