Saturday, January 31, 2009
David Michael Garvie 1959 – 2006
Once again the year has turned and my old friend is on my mind, and I am sure the mind of others.
I am aware of landmarks in my own life now that I am passing and that he never reached. I have been teaching far longer than he did now. I shall be 50 this year.
I don’t want to be maudlin in my remembrance though, because one thing is for certain. He would be laughing at me for it. He wanted to be remembered fondly by a generation, and then allowed to slip away.
I pass his house every now and then and see that others have taken it over. The George Garvie memorial jungle has been cleared and more light has been let in to the garden. More care is taken.
We used to detonate fire bombs of alarming capacity on the flat patch. Planning carefully, though with scant regard for risk assesment, and then placing them inside his compost bin. Waste gas canisters from mountain expedition, or petrol for a Coleman stove, used to send the lid soaring in to the trees. Mushroom clouds of smoke and burning fuel raining down upon our manic flight. Then, smokey eyed, we would slope off to the pub and put the world to rights until we could barley stand.
Tonight we will sit outside my house and share a beer old friend. And if the sky is clear I’ll get the telescope out and we can count the stars.
God bless Dave.