Martin

I wrote a piece last month about my friend Martin and just today I found a really nice photo of him . I've just turned 60. He only got about half that. At times he was my closest friend and I miss him now. He was funny and clever and never let me get beyond myself. I can't remember what I said about him now. I'm sure I told the story of when we were roughing it out in Portugal. We were drunk and high on the top quality hashish You can get out there. There was a natural pier of rocks that went out in to the sea. A storm blew in and we were already soaked as we made our way out to its extremity. The waves were now crashing in on us and it was getting dangerous. I looked at him and said "we best go back, we could die here." He smiled back at me and said "so what?". That was Martin. And he was right in one sense. It would have been a good death. Better than the one he had overdosing on heroin round at Richard's house. I suppose I must have taken decisions that kept me alive., But we had a fucking great laugh. I must have told the story of his death in earlier. I wish he was still here. I really miss him.