
I found out today that a very good friend of mine died a few days ago. I met Leslie at a very difficult and strange time in my life. The irony of our meeting wasn't wasted on me, one person at the end of his life taking on someone who had no idea where his life was going at that time. He gave me a focus and drive when I needed it the most.
Leslie was a staunch Labour supporter. Not what we know as 'New Labour' but the old school trade union Labour, from the roots up. He was constantly, right until the end of his life involved in campaigning for better housing in Kent, better awareness of the social and political consequences of how we live.
He served in the Second World War. He drove his tank regiment from India all the way up into Burma. I once asked him how he survived, how all those bullets missed, all those shells never found him. He told me that the one thing he had learnt was that 'everything is luck'. It was purely luck he never 'caught a bullet'.
He was possibly one of the most intelligent, well read individuals I have ever met. His lunches became a legend in my household for their interesting....content. He was always ready to talk, fight and debate, no matter what the subject.
What happens to energy when we die? I wish I knew. That amount of energy, that intelligence, experience and humility cannot just vanish. I hope perhaps I get a little bit of it. I know he, like me didn't believe in a creator, so I hope the universe finds a place for him.
I will miss you dear friend. I will always regret not being there more at the end.