A few more memories of Ollie
Like all of his friends and family I am struggling to come to terms with the loss of Ollie, one of the most ebullient and enigmatic people I have ever met. When I think of him, as I have done every day since, I really don’t know whether to laugh or cry.
But I can be sure of one thing, Ollie was funny, and almost everything he did had the potential to be funny. Many of the other tributes from our friends have captured little pieces of his huge personality. Here, in no particular order, are a few of my reflections on moments I have shared with him that have made me smile as I have thought of him over the last couple of weeks.
Ollie used to walk unusually, often disturbingly, fast. He was smaller than most of us, a lot smaller than me, and I could never keep up with him. When we went on country walks, Ollie would be miles ahead, having to stop and wait, with an expression of feigned anguish on his face at how pathetically slowly we were walking. Ollie was funny when he walked fast, and when he stopped and looked back. It was just the way he did things.
I remember going ice skating in Brighton with him where he didn't so much skate, as walk unnervingly fast on his skates. He would march, very fast, round the ice rink. Every 10 seconds he'd complete a circuit and then, as I (or anyone else for that matter) was gingerly getting my balance absent the safety of the handrail, push me hard from behind, and disappear off on another circuit with a big grin on his face. To know Ollie is to know why that had me in stiches all that afternoon.
At times Ollie was pure mischief, but he was never malevolent. And he had a really big heart...
He helped my parents to move house back in 1991. All day he lugged heavy boxes from the removal van, carrying them as if they were full of feathers (he was small but he was strong), and walking very, very fast , with these huge boxes in each paw (his words) narrowly missing me ("oo'er missus, mind yerself"). Moving boxes around with Ollie was funny.
Matt has already mentioned the classic School cookery episode, but it bears repeating. Ollie, Phil, Matt and I elected to take Cookery as our General Studies option at school. None of us could cook, but Ollie had a plan. It involved Matt's shoe and a saucepan of boiling water. And so Shoup was invented. We took Gardening the next term, and were asked to prune some pretty apple trees. Having butchered the trees (no-one was a more enthusiastic pruner than Ollie), Ollie picked up a pruned branch and set off in hot pursuit of Matt with the branch in his hand, whipping it at Matt's ankles. This went on for 10 minutes with Matt (getting red and eggy as usual) running at full pelt and Ollie in hot pursuit chasing him round the school buildings, until Ollie came bursting round the corner into the arms of a particularly unamused teacher. Ollie stood there sheepishly holding the pruned branch. Phil and I (and Matt) were crying with laughter.
I remember the parties at Daneby Hall, his piano playing at the Chaff. I remember prancing round his bedroom with our tennis rackets playing along to Back In Black ( I remember it as if it was yesterday. Hmmm). I remember blue shoe, what was that all about? (one of hundreds of daft but hilarious games he invented). I remember you teaching me to play the guitar with your own made up tunes. "Trucking Bastard" remains an all time favourite (lyrics available on request). Thanks to Ollie many 80's popstars are immortalised by his strange brand of word associations. Terence Trent d'Arby for instance is never to be forgotten as " Nuclear de Terence Trent Bridge Derby County Football Club". And Jean-Michel Jarre? “Jean –Michel Jamjar Gonoginthenog”, obviously.
To experience all these things is to know why I shall miss Ollie so much. Each time I think of you Ollie I don't know whether to laugh or cry. Hide up in your cloud, Ollie, I miss you now, always will....
Droopsie
