Al Moores - Requiescat in Pace

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Well, we said our final goodbyes to the man today, those of us left standing, anyway. A good turnout for the bugger, nevertheless. Seventy-four seems to me to be simultaneously both too young and somewhat ancient. From our current viewpoint, seventy-four is near enough where we are, but when we first met Alan & Irene, Al was thirty-four, and we were still in our twenties, all of us with distant horizons, well before us. That we've collectively lived several lives apiece in the interim, cooked hundreds of communal meals, listened to thousands of hours of music and drunk copiously from the fount of Bacchus, is somehow still tempered by the apparent linearity of time, and a sense of an ending. However, I'd rather frame it as the passing of one chapter and the start of another, with whatever that brings, and for however long...

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