From Steph in Cadiz

Dear Maximus,

It was Friday 30th September 2005 when we first met. The Botellon, at Plaza San Fran. I was with you for your first Botellon, and just as well because my Spanish was appalling back then. As always, you did all the talking…leaving Rob, Gary, Cheryl and I just standing back in amazement. I was also with you at your last Botellon. Again we visited Plaza San Fran, and did the usual totty spotting in O’Connell's (the Irish bar you introduced us to us all on your birthday in early October).

Within that short space of time (just under 5 months) you and I became extremely good friends. At times I wondered how I could depend on someone so much. Whether it was for a few social drinks, making friends, organising parties or just chilling out in general… you know you were “el hombre, innit?”

On the night of the accident, the weather was awful, our clothes were wet and our group got separated. But you were persistent in making sure we all we having a good time. I can remember being cold, being in one of my “moods” and being soaking wet, but then you waited for me to catch up with the others and with your big cheeky smile saying “Steph mate, you in a mood?” Like in most situations, you could read me so well. I didn’t even have to say anything, you just knew what I was thinking half the time. I often say to Jo and Cheryl, “what are we going to do without him?” I can’t picture Spain without you. I can’t put in words just how much I’m missing you already. You always stuck up for me, didn’t tease me (too much) about my dizzy blonde moments (e.g. So Max… Where exactly is Russia?), you were probably the only person who could make me compromise, you discovered O’Connell’s (and thus my quest for Fran) and most importantly you had time for me. Despite being the man about town, your door was always opened and your smile so welcoming. For that alone, I just wanna say thanks.

About 20 minutes after you comforting me for being cold, tired and moody, the next thing I said to you was “MAX!” “MAX!” I was screaming at you to make some form of movement. All I could see was your body in the water. Max mate, believe me when I say we all did our best that night. Every single one of us there looked over the wall and contemplated jumping in after you, but the drop was too high and the water too shallow. Honest to God, we were so helpless. I’m so sorry that I could do nothing. So, so sorry!

If I’m honest with myself, the last images of you will haunt me for a while, but your personality and charm will stay with me forever. Trust me little Maximus, you do not realise how much your short presence in Cadiz will have a lasting impression on everyone.

The tears come and go, but your memory is with the crew always. You were one in a million and a friend to everyone. My remaining time in Cadiz, our plans to work here in the summer, the uni “tour” for next year, Newcastle university, and the future isn’t gonna be the same. We often joked that I was gonna have 11 kids with Thierry Henry (you knew I was a broody girl) and that they’d be all boys (obviously…11 boys make up a football team) and that every Saturday they’d go see uncle Max for training. It’s how you’d planned to make your fortune!!!! It’s memories like this that hurt so much.

You were liked by all, and LOVED by the crew. Mr popular, Mr bilingual, Mr generous, Mr “carinoso”… Mr Max O’Connell you are missed so much! Un beso!

Loadsa love and hugs ALWAYS, Steph…(the whitest black girl you EVER knew!!!)