4th October at the Irish

On 4th October Max would have been, should have been, celebrating his 26th birthday.

As many of you will remember, he always celebrated these occasions with much gusto. Perhaps he would have celebrated this birthday at the Irish, who can say.

The usual room has been booked there from 8pm on Saturday 4 October and it would be lovely if as many of you as possible could join us to remember him.

For the few who may not know the Irish, the new name is The Corrib Rest, Salusbury Road, London NW6.

Best wishes,
Victoria and Seamus

Football Tournament

The third Max O'Connell Football Tournament took place on Saturday 12 July at the Lynford Christie Sports Stadium. It was organised mainly by Louis Russell, who was unable to play owing to injury, and who instead spent a great deal of time and effort making sure everything ran in a smooth and trouble-free manner. Which it did, so congratulations to Louis.

I think there might have been more teams than last year; there certainly seemed to be a lot of people around, mainly players but spectators as well. Some of the Queen's Park parents provided food again, and Remel, Louis's nephew, organised the refreshments tent in a very cool and efficient manner.

Once again the Cup was won by the West Hampstead All Stars, who beat the Older Lot (maybe not their official title but the one I always hear them called) by 2 goals to 1. It was an exciting final, but in the end the West Hampstead team again seemed that much fresher and faster. The Max of the Day award went to Adam Newton, one of the winning side.

I find it hard to believe that there have now been three tournaments since Max died. For us it is a bitter-sweet occasion, so sad that it should be taking place at all, but also such a pleasure that so many of his friends want to remember him in this way. It is surely the most fitting celebration of his life. We would like to thank the organisers, and all those who took part and made the Tournament an exciting and enjoyable, if exhausting, day.

The winners - West Hampstead All Stars


Max used to be No 10
David's T shirt




The Queen's Park team shirt


Please feel free to add more photos.

Victoria

Max O'Connell Cup Note

Hi all,

I'm sad that I won't be able to attend this year's football celebration.

I've wanted to type something on this blog for a while but I haven't been able to find the right words.

I've lived in the States for 5 years, and I simply can't think of football, or home, without thinking of Max and the Queen's Park crew. There's something really special about the community we all formed there, parents and kids... and there's nothing like kicking a ball about with you guys. Have a great day tomorrow!

I wanna take this chance to pay homage to the Paddington Boys (1996-7?) football team, of which Max was a member. I'm now being paid to do something that I would gladly do for free, coach football. But my career and practical education started with you guys. I learned alot with you and every success, every victory is yours.

A big hug to all of Max's loved ones.

Have a great summer!

Pedro.

Max O'Connell Cup 2008

Hello all, 

the Max O'Connell Cup will be held on Saturday 12th July this year at the Linford Christie Stadium. Same as last year for all those that came along, for those that didn't it is next to Wormwood Scrubs with the entrance and car park down Artillery Lane, off Du Cane Road.

Click here for directions

At the moment it looks like we've got twelve teams which will mean three groups of four. It is six-a-side and will cost £35 per team. We hoping to kick off at noon so we should all aim to meet there at around elevenish. Depending how it all goes it should run until six. My number is 07947449854 if anyone wants to put a team in or needs directions.

There will be food and drinks for those who want to come and watch, but all help would of course be much appreciated.

Look forward to seeing you all there...

Louis

Remembering Max

On the evening of 26 February a group of us met together to remember Max, and also of course to catch up with one another's lives, and to wonder what Max might have been doing now, had he lived. We lit twenty-three candles, one for each year of his life, and Peter Cutts, Owen's father, read a poem by Brian Patten which seemed to express so well our thoughts about loss and remembrance.


So Many Different Lengths of Time

Cuanto vive el hombre por fin? Vive mil dias o uno solo?
Una semana o varios siglos? Por cuanto tiempo muere el hombre?
Que quiere decir 'para siempre'?
Preocupado per este asunto me dedique a aclarar las cosas.

— PABLO NERUDA

How long is a man's life, finally?
Is it a thousand days, or only one?
One week, or a few centuries?
How long does a man's death last?
And what do we mean when we say, 'gone forever'?

Adrift in such preoccupations, we seek clarification.
We can go to the philosophers
but they will grow tired of our questions.
We can go to the priests and the rabbis
but they might be too busy with administrations.

* * *

So, how long does a man live, finally?
And how much does he live while he lives?
We fret, and ask so many questions —
then when it comes to us
the answer is so simple.

A man lives for as long as we carry him inside us,
for as long as we carry the harvest of his dreams,
for as long as we ourselves live,
holding memories in common, a man lives.

His lover will carry his man's scent, his touch;
his children will carry the weight of his love.
One friend will carry his arguments,
another will hum his favourite tunes,
another will still share his terrors.

And the days will pass with baffled faces,
then the weeks, then the months,
then there will be a day when no question is asked,
and the knots of grief will loosen in the stomach,
and the puffed faces will calm.
And on that day he will not have ceased,
but will have ceased to be separated by death.
How long does a man live, finally?

A man lives so many different lengths of time.

BRIAN PATTEN (1946-)

Max supported Spurs

Max in a Spurs top with a suitable expression on his face.

Requested by Owain Thomas, Little O.


Was taken when on holiday in Spain with Dash. Might have been the year of an earlier Spurs success.

Two years on

For the past week or so I’ve found my self thinking about Max a lot as the 2 year anniversary of that terrible night in Cadiz approached. Not so much with sad thoughts as it was at this time a year ago, but memories that make me smile and laugh and also to a growing extent, thoughts of what life would be like if Max were still here with us. I usually imagine him living nearby in Newcastle. I imagine how much he would have enjoyed the flat that I live in for two main reasons. Firstly, we have all the sports channels and four fanatical football watchers. I think he would have enjoyed taking part in some of the heated football debates and the ‘who’s the best’ conversations that regularly emerge. And secondly, we have a long living room that is filled with balls of all types, and we often just kick a football up and down the living room. I remember a bunch of footballing lessons that Max taught me in Cadiz, sometimes on a pitch but more often than not in our spacious, cockroach infested kitchen (using a volleyball as a stand-in for a real football) so I think he would have relished the chance to ‘teach us’ (aka show off) his football skills. Another thing which has brought Max to the forefront of my mind was the Carling Cup football on Sunday. Such a fitting tribute to Max that his team has won the cup on that Sunday which marked the two years.

I have also just been to visit Max’s tree in the Newcastle Uni campus. It is nice to see that it is standing up, tall and strong, to all the things that life has to throw at it (most prominent of which is the ridiculous amount of wind around Newcastle today). I’m very pleased to see how symbolic the tree has become, not only in reflecting Max’s personality and physique but also showing how it is possible to stand up tall and strong even in difficult times such as this. Also, there was a beautiful bouquet of flowers at the foot of the tree from Max’s family. As always, my thoughts and most sincere sympathy is with you and with all of Max’s friends.

And finally, a message to Max. We all miss you, mate. The two years that have passed have possibly dulled some of the pain I felt but the joyful memories live on and will continue to live on inside me while I still draw breath. I hope you’re up there right now teaching everyone you meet the wonders and joys of attacking football in the enthusiastic and infectious manner that only you can pull off. Thanks for being there and making the short time I knew you such a fantastic time. Take care, Max.

Gary

A Sonnet: To an Absent Friend

Your death I know will haunt me till I die
Some days I wake, it's a sad morning song
Some nights it is my lonely lullaby
It's always there whispering 'You are gone'.

It is a station for my train of thought
No matter what bright lights guide my journey,
No matter what passengers I have brought,
It's always a destination for me.

Sometimes I want to lose control and scream.
I want to punch slap scratch kick hit someone,
To hurt them so my pain the less will seem,
But your death will still be there when I'm done.

So live with your death is all I can do,
Live and learn... and laugh... and love... without You.





Pictures of Max on Christmas Eve 2005.

Max's tree - flowers

Victoria, Rachel, and I walked past Max's tree in Queen's Park on Christmas Day. We found this posy of dry winter flowers tucked up against its foot.



Love and best wishes for the New Year to all Max's friends,
Seamus

Memorial

On 4 October Max would have been twenty-five had he not died so desperately prematurely. As his birthday approaches I am filled again with disbelief that such a vital personality could have come to an end in such a sudden and shocking manner.

On his twenty-fourth birthday, the first after his death, we were given a memorial in stone made by the sculptor Emily Young, Louis Russell's aunt. Max had visited her studio and was remembered there.

It is an onyx disk, about 60 cm in diameter. I have tried to photograph it many times to put it on the blog, but it changes so much with the light that it has seemed impossible to catch it in any real way. However, below are two of the better attempts. It stands in front of the window in Max's room, the window from which he kept an eye on the street and through which he used to climb when he had forgotten his key. Sometimes the disk is completely opaque. At other times, when the sun shines through, it is almost translucent, and on a sunny windy day the shapes within the stone move and glow.

The carving on the disk is short and simple but tells a story: "Max - son, brother, friend, lover".

On the base is a poem by Raymond Carver:

And did you get what you wanted from this life, even so?
I did.
And what did you want?
To call myself beloved, to feel myself beloved on the earth.

We are so grateful to Emily, to the other people in her studio, and to Frank Russell, who all worked together to create this beautiful memorial.

Victoria

Max O'Connell Cup

Well the Max O'Connell cup was held on August 4 - nearly two months ago - and it was a beautiful, moving, sad, happy, tiring event. It was a beautiful day - not a cloud in the sky - and i think that over 100 people probably turned up. There were 10 teams (just about) with about 8 players each, lots of parents, kids, spectators and others that made the day a great tribute to Max and to football. It was won in the end by the Davestars (again!), defeating Queens Park in a tight 1-0 final.

This was my first Max Cup and I just want to thank Lou and Dash for doing most of the organising like a proper FA representative. Max, who was for some reason obsessed with making mini league tables on scraps of paper, whether it was for FIFA competitions, card games, footie competitions, or any kind of rota that probably didn't need a table, would have been proud, and jealous. I myself was amazed at how well it turned out. And it was good to see so many people and that in the end is always what makes these events as heartbreaking as they are overwhelming. I can't get over the fact that the very thing Max would have done anything to create when he was here is the one thing we can organise now he's gone. But that is why it is so important to continue to have these days and it doesn't seem like there is any danger of them disappearing.

I was reading a post by Rads that he put up right back when this blog was created. It was about making a super team with the older lot that would eventually be able to work our way up and get to play in the the FA cup...Well it's not quite the same but for me, winning the Max O'Connell Cup is the first achievement that needs to be done! See you all next year...

Ize

4 October - Max's Birthday (5 October - in the Irish)

It is Max's birthday this Thursday, 4th October. To remember and celebrate him we will be having drinks at the Irish Center on Salusbury Rd on Friday 5th October. We have the Oyster Bar booked from 8.00pm (the little bar with the pool table in it), and as always it would be great to see anyone and everyone who knew him.

This time last year me and the boys were just returning from our trip to America. Lots of people went to Max's for dinner and Emily (Louis's aunt) unveiled the beautiful onyx disc that has taken up residence at Max's house.

Even if you can only make it for a few minutes it is always a great tribute to Max and everyone appreciates the thought and effort that you put in to saying hello.

See you on Friday.

The boys, Rose and Jo

Football tournament

On Saturday 4 August the second Max O'Connell Football Tournament took place at the Linford Christie Stadium. It was like the first day of summer after what seemed like weeks of unending rain. Suddenly the temperature soared and everyone was reaching for the suntan lotion.

When we, that is the parents, arrived with a variety of food: fruit, pizza, baguettes, cucumber sandwiches, and drinks which were never enough, we found that play was well underway.There seemed to be so many young men milling around that I found it hard to understand how it could get organized, but it did.Teams came on and off and referees appeared from somewhere and it went like clockwork.

Play continued throughout the afternoon ending with a hard and close fought final between Queen's Park and The West Hampstead All Stars. The All Stars won by 1 nil so holding on to the cup for another year. I cannot really comment on the standard of the football, but I can comment on the good spirit in which it was played and which made it such a great day. Max would have loved it.

So congratulations to the organizers, Queen's Park, and to the winners, and thanks to the parents for the food and support.

My photos were not very good but if anyone has some we could put on the blog please send them to Seamus. There's a picture of the winners below.

Victoria

Car Park at Linford Christie Stadium

Parking at the Linford Christie Stadium is not that simple.

You have to go along Du Cane Road and turn off up Artillery Lane, between the hospital and the prison. It's easy to miss. It's got a pillar box about ten yards from the main road. Keep straight ahead and go under a 2.0m/6'6" height barrier. Go up to the end and turn right. The stadium is then in front of you. It's a pay-and-display car park, but free at the weekend.

It's also possible to drive up to the stadium from Scrubs Lane, but I think the general public is not supposed to go this way. Turn off Scrubs Lane up Woodman's Mews, which is nearly opposite North Pole Road - it's about 100 yards north, towards Harlesden. There's a gate which the stadium attendant said was controlled by a phone link to the prison, but it was open when we drove up. When you get to some tall metal gates turn right. Follow the road round and you get to the stadium. There are a few places where you can park.

See you on Saturday, Seamus

Directions to Max O'Connell Cup venue

Here is a link for directions to the Linford Christie sports complex which is where Saturday's tournament will take place!

The first games will kick off at 12 noon, so if playing, please be there by 11.30am. Teams that are entering will need £35 entry fee to be paid at the beginning of the tournament.

We are hoping to provide as much food and drink as possible...but please bring pic nic materials (blankets, food, drink) if you are planing on coming to support or watch, any help is greatly appreciated!

See you Saturday!!!

Click here for directions

From Little O

Dear Max,

I’m feeling a wee bit nervous. It’s the Cup next week, and I’m getting that wobbly feeling in my legs again. Believe me, mate: it’s not a skill I’m perfecting.

I remember the way you used to play; floppy boned and agile, padding over the ball catlike with those Sunny Delight-sponsored Mizunos. Velcrofoot was not an exaggeration. I remember you rising for balls, and using that extra inch and lash of curls to lift or crush a team in an instant. Or dusting yourself off mildly annoyed when the opposition turned to frustrated ankle kicks in order to stop the rampage. But that just fired you up to dubs them even harder next time round, didn’t it? Would they taste the nutmeg? Be dummified by a shoulder drop? Outpaced on the straight? Nobody knew what was in store, but it was normally all three when I was on the receiving end. Though I seriously doubt there’s anyone who hasn’t been touched by this trinity at some point. And as we can all remember, it was distinctly more painful than returned kick up the arse.

But let’s not give you a big head to go with that statuesque Roman nose, now, because it wasn’t just you who could do stuff like that, if we’re honest. But you were definitely the only one who could make it look like they were drunk-in-charge-of-a-football. A cunning device that foxed almost all ball-kicking park life, by giving off the appearance that you were stumbling around the pitch a bit tipsy; a drunken master ploughing through lunging tackles (not to mention freaked out families on picnic blankets) with a Mitre firmly stuck to your toe⎯what an image! They say brilliance is always in bed with madness, my boy, and that will be visual proof in my mind forever.

To me, it seemed like your skills were a complete (and often envy inducing) expression of your natural character, played out with as much endless energy as everything else in your life. Don’t get me wrong, mate; I’m not calling you a park pisshead with superior ball control, I just believe that clever, passionate and flowing football⎯the kind that us boys have continued to play throughout the years⎯will always be a true reflection of our personalities. And yeah, I still run through life (and across the wings) like a headless chicken.

So with that in mind, I continue to miss your honesty, excitability, quick thinking, passion, mock stupidity, perseverance, awareness, cool and loud mouth shouting: “Yesss O!”s, on and off the pitch, and really, truly wish that you were still playing around on both. But you know, as much as I do, Max, that all the boys share that double life now and will continue to keep each one as tight and enjoyable as we can until we take up gardening. And even though there’ll be a few tough teams on the park next Saturday (giving me more than enough reason to be crapping myself silly right now) it’s your alter ego, Monsieur Velcrofoot, that will set the standard at kick off, and that will always be the hardest thing to beat.

Cheers for the skills, Max!

Little O
(Owain)

Hampstead School Celebration Evening

On Thursday 12 July we went to the first ever Hampstead School Celebration Evening, at which the first Max O'Connell Award for Excellence and Improvement in Languages was awarded. The school was very much smarter than in our day, with an imposing new entrance hall, a great improvement. The dress code for the evening was smart, and just about everyone had made an effort, and there was a friendly and expectant atmosphere. There were awards for improvement and excellence in all subjects and activities. Many of the awards were for sport - lots of sports are now played at the school, including cricket and rugby (gosh!).

Introducing the Max O'Connell award, Ms Smith, Head of the Sixth Form, spoke about Max with warmth and humour. Although it is six years since he left she remembered him clearly and her descriptions of him and his way of being in the school caught him well. It was very moving to see the award presented to Finn Marr-Heenan, and he seemed very pleased to have won it, and the first one at that. We spoke to him afterwards and found that he did in fact know something of Max through mutual family friends.

It was also good to learn that the money contributed Max O'Connell Ski Trip Fund was used to help seven students to go on the school's Ski Trip, some of them for the first time.

Victoria

Max O'Connell Cup 2007

The Max O'Connell Cup will be held on Saturday the 4th of August from 12 to 5pm. It will be taking place at the Linford Christie sports complex, off Du Cane Road next to Wormwood Scrubs Hospital (will post a map nearer the time).

There will be ten teams,knock out tournament with prizes; if there is anyone who would really like to enter a team please let us know as soon as possible (contact Dash at dashlilley@hotmail.com).

There will be food and drinks
The more support the better, so please come and join us for what should be a great day.

Max's Graduation, from Victoria

Max's Graduation day was for us a proud occasion, but inevitably also a sad one. While it was a pleasure to see so many happy successful young people for whom this ceremony marked a transition to the next phase of their lives, it is so sad that for Max there is only a future unexplored, a promise unfulfilled. Despite this sadness we are very pleased that we came.

We were very moved by the applause of Max's fellow students as Rachel accepted his degree on his behalf, and touched that they dedicated their Yearbook to him. We wish them all well with whatever life brings them.

As ever, the university staff made things as easy for us as possible. We are so grateful to them for all the kindness and sensitivity they have shown us since Max's death, and for the way in which his memory is being kept alive within the University, with the Year Abroad Essay Prize and the tree dedicated to him outside the Language School.

In her address to the graduates Prof. Ella Ritchie reminded us that since Max died there had been two other deaths in the department, another student in December, then Dr Vanessa Knights in March. Dr Knights knew Max and spoke at his memorial event - she was such a lively and impressive person. We can only hope that next year will be a happier one for the department.

With very best wishes, Victoria

Max's graduation

On Tuesday 10 July, Max was awarded a posthumous degree at Newcastle University. As his tutor, I was there at the ceremony to see his sister Rachel accept the degree on his behalf, while his parents watched.

Over a hundred students were awarded their degree at that ceremony, but Max received the longest round of applause. I think everybody found this a moving moment - pleasure in recognising Max's achievements, sorrow that he did not live to do more and fufil his potential. Ourselves the staff at Newcastle found it an emotional moment, and I myself had tears in my eyes as I applauded him and his family. Those tears reappeared later on when I went back to the School Office after the ceremony and saw the yearbook of the graduating students - dedicated to Max's memory. I was pleased for him but also pleased that our students valued him so much and took time to remember him.

Max's memory lives on in the Max O'Connell prize set up by his family for students who write the most interesting piece on their Year Abroad. But we the staff still remember him with much fondness.

Ann Davies

Dr. Ann Davies
Lecturer in Spanish
Degree Programme Director, T900 Modern Languages
Spanish, Portuguese and Latin American Studies
School of Modern Languages
Old Library
Newcastle University
Newcastle NE1 7RU
Tel: 0191 222 7476
Fax: 0191 222 5442

A bit more of Max

I haven't written on Max's blog for a long time. That's because most of the time I cannot think of anything to say. But I recently received an email from my friend Antonia in Australia and she sent me this photo which I'd not seen before. It makes me smile to see or hear new things about Max. This is what she wrote with the picture:

"ive got a pic for you i wanted to put it on maxs page but i didnt know what to write i didnt want to seem like an idiot that knew max from the begining. It was when i went to school with you that week i still slightly remember it. I miss him it makes me sad just writing this!! But he is loved everyday by sooo many people. He is beautiful so hopefully you can put the pic on the site from me!!"

I like this photo because usually Max is the one kissing people in photos, whereas this time he's the one being kissed and his expression is kind of ambiguous. As well as getting Antonia's photo, I had a dream about Max on Tuesday night:

He was there, in a shopping centre, or some indoor, brightly lit, large place. I ran down an escalator to meet him.

He looked younger than he last was. His hair was short, how he used to have it in school, and he was wearing that big black felt coat he had. He was with a friend, a shorter guy, I don't know who.

He asked me how I was - "ok, you know, this and that" - I told him some stuff.

I hugged him and he squeezed me so tightly. I opened my eyes and could just peep over his shoulder and there was someone there, watching, so I closed my eyes again and immersed myself in Max.

I told him I love him so so much and he said I love you too.

And he was all cheerful but I was incredibly sad because I knew that he was going to be dead but I didn't want to show it. I didn't want him to know that I was sad, I just wanted to enjoy being with him.

Then he made a joke about stillettoes and I pointed out that I don't wear stillettoes.

And soon I woke up and I was even more sad because he was gone again, like I knew he would be.

From Stef

It's taken me a while to eventually post this blog, namely cos I've been putting it off. How can you put into words how you feel on the "anniversary" of a friend's death. Well for me it's insanely hard. I can't express how often I dream about Max, the reoccuring nightmares and the sadness I feel every day for his parents and sister. I think it was these feelings that led me to go to Cadiz on the 26th to lay flowers and just be somewhere that I felt connected with him.

The day of the 26th I went to the spot he fell and lay flowers for everyone within our "crew" in Spain. Jo, Cheryl, Marina, Rob, Gary, Simon, Myles, Andrew, Tom, Salina, Goertz and Peter. I won't lie, it was such a low moment, after Max's death… I returned to Cadiz, and I did have times when despite having other friends I felt lonely. Being on the sea front, watching the waves, hearing the locals walking past and crying alone brought back all the memories - all the sadness that felt from having lost a very special person. I can't describe my pain, sadness, tears and anger. But at the same time I had the weird sensation that I was at least in a place that I could relate to Max.

After the hour I stayed at his "spot", I walked to his old flat, looked up at his balcony and couldn't hold back the tears. To me, looking up at his balcony and seeing his curly head appearing or seeing his hand with his token ciggie hanging over the balcony was standard.. And so returning there was incredibly painful.. But again I felt I needed to be there, in a place that I could relate to Max, and not back home where I'd be frustrated or isolated with my feelings.

I think about him every day, and honestly can't understand why such a vibrant and colorful person was taken away from us. He was such a vital ingredient to the Erasmus experience for me… I feel that when he went, the "glory" years of Viva Cadiz went with him.

Love Stef (his friend from Cadiz) x x x

To Max

It's been almost exactly a year since I expected you to turn up at my house in Barcelona for a break from Cadiz as we'd arranged, and almost exactly a year since I found myself writing on this blog with tears in my eyes.

I wish we'd had that week.

It's difficult to look at the photos on this blog without smiling to myself or shaking my head in thought of what was going on at the moments in which those photos were taken and remembering the kind of person you were and will always be in my mind, how could I ever forget, you made me laugh. A lot.

And as Owen said, I wish I could still make you laugh too. Maybe I still am.

It's difficult to look at them without a tear in my eye as well.

As tragic, unbelievable and sad your passing was, you always seem to bring a smile to my face when I remember.

What a quality. An eternal quality.

Unfortunately I wasn't able to be there at the Irish last weekend with everyone, but I have been back to London a few times. Been to see your tree, I know you're impressed with it.

I've seen the boys on a few occasions too.

I've walked through the park a number of times when I've been back in the UK and to know that I won't see you around there or out in Spain still feels like there's lots of unfinished business.

For a guy that had so much more to give, you still managed to give so much to so many people.

More than some people do in a whole long lifetime.

When I think of the petty, mediocre things that go on in this world you remind me of what's important.

Thanks Max, we had lots of good times. I wish we could have more.

It was always fun and you're always living on and inspiring me in my thoughts.

Your friend always,
David Wilson

A Year On

I can't believe it's been a year since Max went. I feel that the day Max did die will always be remembered as the most horrific one of my life. I don't feel it right to compare how I felt then and how I feel now, as only after we accepted and understood this loss did the Cadiz group start any sort of process of personal healing. It is a commonly used phrase to say that time can heal just about anything, but, even for me, who only knew Max for a few months, there will always be moments when I think back on what happened to him and feel the colour drain from my face. Looking back at what actually happened to Max, I can not see it as anything but an incredibly unfortunate event. Max was larking around, but that was Max and to take that away from him would be to extinguish part of his character. He deserved better, without doubt. I have found refuge in thinking about it pragmatically. It makes no sense to keep getting yourself caught up in the tragedy of it. The conclusion of this process for me came when I realised that there was no way of completely feeling better or letting the memories go. However, I think my way of coping is to try to cling onto the other memories I have of him. I've still got the baseball top I was wearing from that night in my wardrobe at uni. I can't get round to cleaning it. It doesn't remind me as much of the moment of Max's death than the amazing time we were having beforehand, so I guess it's more symbolic of how together we were as a group.

I want to also add that my thoughts have been increasingly with Max's family and close friends at this time of the year. In fact, my wishes go out to all those who are reading this blog.

Tomas Corbyn, xx

Max - the best friend I never met

It has taken me a lot of time to pluck up the courage to read this blog, as I have felt for a long time that I had no right to. I was one of the Cadiz Erasmus students, and yet I never met Max, as I arrived in Spain merely hours after his untimely death. One of my best friends from Durham university, Tom, had been in Cadiz since September and before my arrival he had told me about how amazing life out there was. I think Tom could tell that I was apprehensive about coming to an unknown lifestyle in Spain, but he assured me: "Don't worry, I'll get you introduced to all the Erasmus students, we'll have a great time. There's a few English people out here... Steph, Rob, Jo... And wait until you meet Max!"

I had spoken to Rob, Steph and Jo all before I came to Spain via MSN Messenger and email, but for some reason, even though I had Max's email address, I never got in contact with him. I suppose I just assumed I'd get to know him when I got to Cadiz.

When I arrived, Carnival was erupting - it was amazing. I had my heavy bag on this bus that was stuck in the middle of a road blocked with traffic, and I smiled to myself, knowing that from February till June, I was going to have some of the best moments of my life. And yet all the students I met were distraught. Absolutely shell-shocked. I did not realise at that point who Max was, and I don't think I ever will.

From an outsider's point of view, it was amazing to see what an incredible effect someone could have on so many people's lives. It's so strange seeing all these photos of people with Max, people that have since become some of my best friends, and not know the guy in the middle with the ever-present smile and curly hair. The more I read about him, the more I get upset that I never met him. I am certain we would have become amazing friends just from the everyone else's descriptions of him. And in a strange way, without ever meeting Max, and never knowing him or even hearing the sound of his voice, I feel like I do know him. He sincerely reminds me of someone, someone I can't put my finger on... I sort of feel that he reminds me of that person everyone knows. The funny guy, the cool guy, the one that everyone turns to and says, "What's the plan for tonight, mate?". The person you turn to if you have a problem, or if you want someone to cheer you up, or just someone to talk utter rubbish with. This is what Max is to me: the stranger I never met, the centre of attention, the one everyone knew, and most of all, the person everyone secretly wanted to be.

After reading the posts on this blog, I cannot imagine the pain Max's family must have gone through, and are still dealing with. It was very strange to briefly meet Max's parents in Nahu, without meeting the top lad himself, and I take the opportunity to apologise for what must have seemed a very rude introduction from myself. Mr and Mrs O'Connell - I was terrified.

The pain must be equally great for Max's friends, the ones from home, and the ones he met Cadiz. It is through you all that Max lives on. The only solace I hope you can find is that, although this person you knew, this life and soul of each and every party, has unfortunately passed on, please take comfort in the fact that you did know him. Although he was a big part of your life before passing away, please be glad that he did touch your life. In a very strange way, I feel he has touched mine.

Thanks, Ross Urmston

From Amy

Hello everyone,

I want to say that my thoughts have been on Max, his family and all his friends constantly since returning back from visiting everyone in London last week. I thought I was going to be alright yesterday, today, all week, but I'm not and wish I could be with the people that matter to me the most at such a time as this. Sometimes I think that being so far away in Leeds is beneficial in someway in helping to deal with what has happened but at the moment I just want to be with my friends.

I've come into work today because I want to keep my mind occupied but it is impossible, Max is all I can think about. I've got some really vivid memories of my time with him but equally vivid is every minute of this day last year.

My mum gave a book to read a while ago, and I've reading it again in the past week. There's a passage that I want to share with you all that I hope will touch you, as it did me the moment I read it:

'For that which you love most in him may be clearer in his absence, as the mountain to the climber is clearer from the plain.'

I will always love Max for the presence he had when he walked into a room, his smile, his hugs; his undeniable ability to cheer us up after lending such a good ear. These are all the things I miss the most and always will. I now value my friendships in such a greater way (if possible) than ever before in my life. It has changed me ... and Max's ability to have such an effect on the people he met is what has become clear to me in the past year.

All my love,
Amy

From Susanne

Hello,

I just wanted to say that my thoughts are very much with you and of course Max today. I saw you briefly yesterday, thank you for opening your house to us Newcastle lot. I was in halls with Max in first year and met him through Amal and Tom Robinson. He came across straight away as a funny, friendly and very cool guy. Friends of mine turned out to also be friends of his as we all made more connections by 2nd and 3rd year (I lived with Jo Lewin, Ruth Barton etc on 29 Devonshire Pl in third year.) Having re-started studies on a different course I ended up in Max's film class and his tutorials on camera angles and pre-exam cramming were splendid help. As was the fact that he seemed to already know everyone in that year which neither of us started in, and I didn't know anyone in that class. He was a joy to be in lectures with, the banter making up for the at times dull material and he would always volunteer an answer or two.

The photos that I have attached are from three separate nights out. Sorry about the quality. One is from our Devonshire Place 'Cowboys and Indians' party, about the end of Jan 2005. Two more are from Sophie Hodges' birthday supper at Heartbreak Soup restaurant, January 15th 2005 and one more is before a big night out to StoneLove, May 2005.

Warmest regards,
Susanne Olbrich

From Hannah Cutts

I have been wanting to write again on the blog for a while and feel that now is a good time if there can be a 'good' time for such a thing. I am sorry not to have been in London over this last weekend and Monday.

This month has left me feeling very sad. As I go from day to day in my life in Manchester I think about Max and life seems to have moved on, but nearly a year later since Max's death it's as though nothing has moved on at all. The realisation that he is not coming back seems so dreadfully unfair and unjust. I knew Max as my friend's little brother and my little brother's friend so I don't feel as close to him as others. If I feel the way I do I can't even begin to imagine the loss Seamus, Victoria, Rachel, the boys and Max's closest friends are feeling. I want you to know that my love and strength goes out to you.

I feel an emormous love and warmth towards the community I grew up in and know that no matter how much time passes people don't really change. The friendships and relationships that have formed and reformed over this year are a credit to Max and his amazing abliity to bring people together.

I last spoke to Max just after Christmas and was I relaying messages to my brother who was driving about what they were going to get up to over New Year. Of course Max had a plan and it all sounded like a lot of fun. Secretly I wish I had been involved too!! I spoke to Owen afterwards and he said they had had a really great night.

Max was a lovely, smiley character who has inspired me to live for the moment.

My love and thoughts are with you all always,
Hannah

Thoughts from far away

We have been thinking so much about Max recently and somehow the space he's left behind seems even bigger. If the gap is raw and painful for us, we wonder what it must be like for those who are closest to him. Max has brought together a whole community of people who will all be at different stages and depths of grieving, but nevertheless united in trying to come to terms with their own sense of loss.

We have been remembering the way Max weaved and tumbled his way through our lives since he was a baby, growing through his teenage years into such a fine young man. Through this we have begun to understand the profound impact these 23 years had on his friendship with our son Owen and the love and brotherhood that bonded the five `boys´ together, namely Max, Louis, Dash, Isaac and Owen.

As we travel through South America we are reminded of the journeys Max, Rosie, the Boys and their friends have made through the world. As we stumble with our Spanish, we realise how Max was continuing his own journey in Spain and how his own understanding of this language was opening up new relationships and experiences for him.

Over the last year we have witnessed such compassion between those closest to Max and the vast community that his loss has brought together. The openess and humanity shown by Victoria, Seamus and Rachel have inspired ways for us to celebrate and mourn. The funeral and wake, the meals and drinks, the walks and talks, the football matches, the hugs, the sculpture and of course the tree have all provided us with opportunities to share our grief and to try and find ways to come to terms with what has happened.

We are so sorry we cannot be there at this time but send our love and thoughts to all of you who will be meeting up at this time.

Peter and Lindsay

I just remembered 'Smiley Max',

the famous poem by Remel, Louis' nephew. It is way down there near the begining of the blog. It could use some more lines...have a look...its brilliant

Thinking about Max

It's very true that now it has come to this time in the year I think of Max all the time. I find myself thinking and almost reliving the day in which I found out. I remember every detail like it was yesterday. The shock, the disbelief, thinking it was some horrible sick joke, the sadness and then the gradual realization of what this would mean for so many people - the incredible number of people that would be so devastated by this and how life for so many would never really be the same. Thinking about that day fills me with grief and sadness but thinking about Max can only really make me smile.

I think about him in the year room, at the pub, on the doorstep of the Deli in Queen's Park, in the park, in the bottom of his garden, at Rosy's house, at Anna's house, in the Long Room, in the Irish, in his kitchen, the list is endless. Lately I have found myself thinking about a particular memory over and over again.

It was four years ago on our gap year travels, we were in Malaysia (Perinthian Island), I was strolling to the sea on the most beautiful white beach. It was about half past eight in the morning. It was boiling and I was grumpy as I had about three hours sleep because it was just too hot - I was walking to the sea to cool off. I remember looking down the beach and about ten yards away there was a blond haired boy, looking slightly sunburned and a bit pissed off. He seemed to be really struggling with his massive rucksack in the sand that was sinking under his feet, concentrating on each step and looking down, he didn’t notice me. ‘Max!’ I screamed. He looked up and after he had thrown his bag on the ground, we laughed and hugged and jumped about.

We marveled at how amazing it was that we had managed to find each other on the most beautiful beach. The last time we had seen each other had been on a cold winter's night, pale and wrapped up outside a pub in West Hampstead and now here we were. Rosy was further behind him, then Anna, then Ellie. They were exhausted after traveling a long while but everyone was tanned, happy and full of the traveling spirit. From then on, for me, traveling just got better and better as we were all together (Max, Louis, Isaac, Owen, Dash, Rosy, Anna, Ellie, Me, Lucy and more…) for some parts, then apart, then would meet up again in different parts of Asia. Endless days of lounging around on beaches where the main activity seemed to be eating and playing cards, with a little bit of swimming in between. Looking back especially in the light of what has happened now it was blissful untouched paradise.

I remember Max never leaving Rosy's side when she had a stomach bug in Bali, reading to her and bringing her food etc. I remember the big meal we had before Ellie and Anna were heading for Australia, we waited about two hours for food and were so hungry we all ate in silence. I remember Max arguing with Eleanor at about seven in the morning on the way to another boat, they were discussing this Bob Marley song, they were both getting equally agitated and in the end were both wrong! I remember hilarious cab journeys where Max would take charge, sit in the front and talk to the driver all the way home, everyone in the back half listening and a bit monged out. I remember arranging to meet in Regent's Park for this mini free festival the summer before last, we shared a bottle of red wine and danced in the middle of the day in a boiling tent - I remember being so pleased to see him as it had been ages and the day was so great.

So many funny little thoughts that more often that than not have me smiling or laughing out loud. I want to keep thinking of all these things, all these things that made Max one of the most charming people I will ever know, funny, smart good-looking, unique and terribly missed by so many.

Chloe

Remembering Max at the Irish Centre

This Friday, the 23rd of February, we will be remembering Max's wonderful self as well as the friendships we all shared with him at the trusty old Irish Centre. Also known as the Corrib Rest on Salusbury Road, the Oyster Bar has been set aside for Max's crew, we will be there from 7 pm. Everyone and anyone is welcome!

This is a very hard time for everyone that knew Max, as it has almost been exactly a year since we lost him. I am sure all of his friends have been thinking about him more than usual, or like me, feelings of a year ago are flooding back, feelings of shock and disbelief. I hope that everyone will come together for Max, as they always did when he was alive.

I look forward to being with everyone, Dash

Memories of Max

My memories of Max are more like a series of pictures: a blonde, curly-haired, smiley, funny and lanky boy. In my mind he's either playing football in Queen's Park, or at a gathering in one of the Queen's Park/Hampstead school hangouts (the Irish, The Old Black Lion, The Long Room.) I also think of him at school, the long Spanish lessons we had together, when Max always seemed to effortlessly (and frustratingly) do so well and, even with his broad English accent could string a sentence together much better than most of us. I hear his wacky insults, which made me smile and that I imagine were used more to make people laugh, than cause anyone real offence!

I wish I could have seen more of Max since the Hampstead days. When he died I hadn't seen him for a few years. As does sometimes happen, I was one of the drifters who went from seeing myself as 'one of the crowd' to a bit more of an outsider, but one who liked and still likes nothing better than to be reunited with my friends.

I always used to love coming back home from uni and seeing everyone from school, usually for one drunken evening at the pub. And Max would usually be there with a jolly greeting along the lines of 'Yes Bridie!' (For some reason that's always what I hear when I think of him!) Even if we might not spend ages chatting, I felt comfortable in Max's presence and it was always clear that he was a much loved and central part of the crowd.

I can remember one time, I think I must have been back from uni for the weekend or during the summer holidays, Max and I bumped into each other on Salusbury Road. We both stopped and shared a quick cuddle, which was always a rather awkward feat, given our difference in height! We had a chat, one of those ones where you have to condense everything you've been doing over the last year or two into a few minutes. But I can remember thinking how sweet and charming he was and how good looking and that, even though we'd only spoken to each other for a short time, I totally felt like he had time for me and wasn't just chatting with me out of politeness.

I have another memory of one of his birthdays at the Irish. Once we'd all been turfed out of the pub onto the street, a load of people crowded round Max and gave him the birthday bumps. I want to giggle when I think about it. Sometimes I wonder whether I imagined it, because none of my friends seem to remember, but I reckon we were all pretty drunk at the time which could explain the memory loss!

Max was and still is an intrinsic part of the group of boys my girlfriends and I used to swoon over and would often refer to as 'The Queen's Park Boys'. I still catch myself saying his name when I talk about them. His name just is naturally there on the tip of your tongue whenever you mention Owen, Isaac, Louis and Dash.

When I heard Max had died I found myself refusing to believe it at first. I suppose, without thinking about it, I always assumed we were all invincible. As my friend Renne cried on the other end of the phone, all I could manage were a few words, some vain attempts to comfort her and expressions of my own immediate feelings of shock and sadness and disbelief. The moment Max's death became real to me was just before his funeral, when I was stood in the middle of the huge crowd gathered outside his house. It was impossible not to be beset by my own sadness and the sadness of those around me.

I can remember the procession around Queen's Park and how overwhelmingly sad it was to watch Max's family and closest friends walk behind his coffin. I could only imagine how they felt and feel, but hope that they were and are able to gain even a small amount of comfort from the sheer volume of Max's friends that came to share in their grief at the loss of their son and brother and best friend on such an immensely difficult day.

If there's one thing Max's life and death have taught me it's not to take anyone for granted and to appreciate loved ones and old friends you might once have passed in the street. It's taught me to stop and say hello, even if it's just for a few minutes, life is too short not to.

I will always remember Max as a smiley, energetic, hilarious and sweet guy, a real gentleman and I really do feel happy to have known him and loved him in my own way.

My thoughts are with Max's family and closest friends especially at this time; Owen, Isaac, Louis, Dash, Rosie and everyone else also. I'm sending you all love and positive thoughts.

Rest in peace Max.

Love Bridie xx

One year on

It is now a very short time to the first anniversary of Max’s death. Last year we received a call at about six in the morning from a brave young man in Cadiz who had to tell us what had happened to our son. Our lives since then have been irreparably changed. Sometimes it can seem like a lifetime ago, sometimes only yesterday. In that time I have come slowly to understand that Max will never come home again. It is still unbearable that our son, so full of life, in a matter of seconds ceased to exist, that his tall lithe lanky body and warm complex maturing personality came to an end with no warning, no reprieve.

I look back on his short life and am glad that he was able to make so much of the time he had, but I am so sad that I shall never know what he would have become, and that his potentially interesting and fulfilling, if possibly not always easy, future has been lost. Most of all, I am so sad for Max that he has been denied all this. I miss the noise and activity he brought into the house, the friends, laughter, dirty washing, fun, excitement, bad temper, loud music, kitchenfuls of feeding boys, and embarrassed requests beginning ‘could you just lend me …’.

The funeral procession and ceremony remain vivid in our memories as a powerful and loving tribute to him, and showed us that our sadness is shared by so many others.

This blog has grown into a wonderful commentary on his life, and is a comfort to us. I have been so touched by reading all the different contributions and have wanted to respond to every one but too often found it too emotionally difficult to put the words together. The posts have told us so much about the Max we didn’t know so well.

This photo is the last one I ever took of him. I think it shows him content and at ease - on a beach in the sun.

Sunday 25 February is one year on from the Sunday on which Max died. We would be very pleased to see anyone who would like to call round in the afternoon for tea, cakes, drink, etc.

Love to all, Victoria

From Declan

I was looking at the blog the other day and stumbled upon some photos of smily Max. For the first time in a while I felt good at looking at pictures of Max. It was like seeing an old friend again; an old friend who always looked happy and seemed content. When I first heard of Max's passing I don't know why but I looked at my phone and saw his name and number in my phonebook, and remembered that about just six weeks previously he had phoned me ... this had become my memory of Max almost ... I couldn't delete the number then and still can't. Looking at the blog the other day and reading some of the messages made me see how Max is remembered and lives on. His friendliness and happy go lucky nature will always live on through those that knew him and that is special. My friendship with Max definitely matured with age. I remember being about 13 and playing football in The Moberly with him...we were on opposing sides and were both trying to beat as many players as we could when we had the ball and when we didn't we would almost hack each other off the ball; all very serious stuff at that age. The Easter before last, nearly 10 years later, we were playing football in the park and both barged into each other and laughed ... we'd grown up (probably I had more of the growing up to do than Max). That moment meant a lot to me and still does. Although there are times that I get sad about Max's passing and consequences, e.g. him not having a son who would've been a class footballer and Max the best teacher football-wise a kid could have, I am so happy to have known Max and been able to call him a friend, and have been part of his life in which he made everyone he met feel good. Rest in peace mate. Declan

Thinking of you

The main things I remember about Max are his ever present friendliness and trusty smile.

I remember having a laugh with him, whether in the park, in a pub, or in a club.

I remember his beaming face always accompanying his embrace.

I remember his unintentional football lessons and unattemptable tricks.

I remember a laid back lad always happy to catch up and have a chat.

A mate always to be missed and never forgotten.

I haven't been in England much over the last couple of years but I know of the suffering and love that has been shown because of the passing away of Max. I'm happy to see a tree has been planted in the park to celebrate Max's life and the happiness he brought to so many people. I'm thinking of all the Queens Park crew and family, and remembering with great affection the smiling lad, Max.

Alex

A letter

Dear family and friends,

I am lecturer at the university of Cadiz and was Max's coordinator. I was pregnant when I met Max and when everything happened I was on maternity leave. One of my colleagues informed me about the accident and I met the family when they came to the faculty. Some months later another colleague found hidden among many documents, students' assignments, etc., a note that Max left under my door before Christmas. I have scanned the text and put it up in the blog, as I feel I should be doing something to honour him.

[Translation in first comment]

Sending very warm regards to his family and friends

Dr. Carmen Fernandez Martin
Department of French and English
Universtity of Cadiz

PS: I'm enclosing also a picture of my baby

Snow

It snowed last night and now the world outside looks like someone came along and brushed it with a paintbrush dipped in white. It's beautiful. And as with all pleasures, there's part of me that thinks 'wow, this is amazing' and part that thinks 'Max can't enjoy it this time'.

And then I started thinking about another time it snowed and I was at Max's house. It was the evening and we had no plans to go anywhere. I imagine we were simply going to stay in and watch a movie in bed (as was one of our favourite customs). Surprisingly there was a ring on his doorbell and then into the hallway spilled a group of lads who had other plans for Max that night...Snowball fights.

I lingered at the top of the stairs as they persuaded him to join them (I don't think he needed much convincing). Then he looked up at me and asked me if it was ok for him to go! I must admit I was slightly put out seeing as I was now going to have to entertain myself alone in his house for a few hours and wasn't sure what I was going to do. But there was no way I was going to tell him he couldn't go out if he wanted to do! It's a strange phenomenon but often when a girlfriend starts affecting her boyfriend's plans (however innocent she may be), his pals (who are themselves single) seem duty-bound to give the boyfriend the harmless yet insulting title: 'p***y-whipped'.

Max was on the verge of acquiring said title as he asked for my permission, but it was really sweet that he asked. Although I wasn't going to stop him, he could sense my pout, and was all cuddles and kisses before going to kit himself out for some serious snow action with the boys. I'm almost certain that as they left the house I could hear some friendly insults being thrown around, but Max always gave as good as he got.

I managed to amuse myself somehow and when Max returned he conjured the image of a snowballing battlefield. I can't remember exactly who came to the door that night, but perhaps you're reading this and you remember it too.

Rosy

Email to the blog

For the present if you want to send a post to the blog by email you will have send it to 'maxblog2.textbutnopics@blogger.com'. The post will not be put up immediately - I have to vet new posts for spam. Everthing else is the same, as described in Go straight to How to add messages to the blog.

Seamus

From Jessie

I have wanted to write something on this blog for nearly a year now. That sentence in itself is almost unbelievable, because it means it is nearly a year since I, or anyone, last saw Max. Part of the reason I have not done so is because losing him and missing him has been expressed so beautifully and eloquently by all of his family and friends, and I wasn’t sure that I could add anything. Part of the reason I haven’t is because Max was my younger brother’s friend, and I saw my role as being there for Jay, rather than expressing my own feelings of loss.

Over the past week I have been thinking about Max, and missing Max a lot. Jay and I have grown up with Zara and Isaac, our parents are best friends, and we have known each other forever. Although I did not go to Hampstead School, or live in Queen’s Park, the area and the unique community around the park has always been a large part of my life.

When we were kids and really up until the past year, there was always a kind of separation between Zara, me and our friends being the older sisters, and Jay, Ize and their friends being the younger brothers. As with most teenagers, this divide seems huge, and at the time you could never even imagine hanging out with your smelly younger brother and your sad older sister!

However, when you grow up a bit and everyone gets past a certain age, these differences start to disappear; before you even have a chance to question it– you are all adults and embarking on your own lives.

In the past year, the gap between all of us has closed. In September this year Zar and I and the boys, went on an amazing trip to America and had so much fun together. We all missed Max, and in true Max style, we lived it up and partied hard in LA, San Diego and Vegas, as he would have done… he would have been proud! Part of the reason for the trip was Max, to celebrate his life, and for his friends to have something positive in a year, which for the most part was so deeply tragic.

What I am most sad about, and what I have been thinking over the past few days is that Max was becoming one of my friends. I did not get a chance to get to know him in the way I have gotten to know the others. I have been thinking about our trip to America and the weekends in Norfolk, all of the times over the past year we have spent together, and willed and wished him to have been there.

The last time I saw him, a year ago, was just before he was going back to Spain. We were out partying, celebrating Owen’s birthday, all of us in a big group together, when the gap was beginning to close. He managed to be the most charming and wildest of the group, and immediately took on the role of the joker – centre stage – with such style and ease.

Max was so much fun to be around, and always added something to anything (even if it was some sort of drama!) I can only say that I am sure he would have been a unique, amazing friend, as he was to all of you boys and everyone who knew him. I am just sad that I only got a taste of that friendship, and wish I could have shared more times like that last time, with him.

Jessie Mond Wedd
11/01/2007

Us in America

2007

At the end of New Years Eve, one of Max's all time favourite nights of the year, a load of us ended up at Dash's house which is opposite one of the entrances to Queens Park. As it began to get lighter we realised the park would be open soon and that although Max couldn't have been with us for the previous night, we could go see him and the tree in the morning. So, at about 8.30am we bundled our selves up, brought whatever we needed, footballs and all, and went to see him. We stayed for about half an hour and spent the first part of the first day of 2007 with good friends. As you can see there were about 15 of us. Someone had added a note to the tree which was lovely. Standing there we realised that we had 2 footballs, and although Max would testify that you can never have too many, we decided to leave one with the tree. We thought that Max would appreiciate it. And if someone took it we thought that they would be very lucky, and probably turn out to be a fantastic footballer, as it had come from such good stock. It was sad to say the least, but it is something that we are all glad we did - it was needed. As my mum says, you have to take your comforts where you can fnd them these days, and while i would give anything to have him back, it gave me great comfort to be able to go, with all his close friends, into the park and feel close to him. I think this is a tradition that will stay.

Happy Xmas Max

Yes Max. Happy Xmas.

For the first time we did not play footie on boxing day. Or meet up late in the day on Xmas for a smoke and to rehash the day's events and presents. Although last year i was not here and missed out you were not and i knew the tradition lived on. This year, i like to think, that the tradition has just been put on hold. We all miss you a lot at the moment but you and the tree and being well looked after. A red rose, a card, some tiny snowmen and lots of visitors meant that you didn't spend Xmas alone. I just wish you could have spent it at mine. at least a bit of it. Take care my friend. We miss you.

Ize.xxx

Max's Tree in Queen's Park

Last Wednesday, 6 December, we planted a tree for Max in Queen's Park. It is by the bandstand, a place where Max and friends would often meet, play football, hang out on sunny days.

It is an oak tree, a pin oak, which should grow into a tall elegant tree which goes a scarlet red in autumn.

We were very pleased that a good number of people came, mainly locals. The park keepers who will look after the tree from now on had known Max, and they were very sympathetic to us.

Earlier in the day they dug a large hole and placed the tree in it, leaving a trench all around. They suggested that those who wanted to could place a spadeful of earth in the trench, which most of us did. Anna Myers then read a poem called Praise of a Man by Norman McCaig, which gave a flavour of Max's personality. After that many of us went on to the Irish.

It was a moving and sad event but I feel satisfied that Max now has a fitting place that we can call his own.

And happily the park escaped the worst of the tornado the following day.

We are thinking of holding a picnic in the park around the tree sometime in the summer for those who would like to have come to the planting but were unable to do so, and everyone else of course.

Victoria

The park keepers planting the tree





Rosy


Theo


Anna reading


More of the people there