![]() ![]() ![]() I remember his big booming voice and his pig shrieks and all kinds of miscellaneous bollocks he'd spout throughout a moment spent in his company. And luckily it's normally never the sad times at the end I think about, it's seeing him around town or going out with him to the cinema where he'd give me a big old bear hug and we'd lovingly take the piss out of each other all night. I'm sure it's the same for all who knew him but not a day goes by he doesn't cross my mind. Death is shite? I suppose it feels odd that already it's been a year since Stuart left us, with it still so present in our minds. I was thinking some kind of dance with scarves but I think I pulled a muscle in my leg the other day and my scarf action has taken a big hit. It didn't feel quite right knowing this date was coming up and not preparing something for it. ![]()
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