Chattering Magpie atop the Cork
Stone, Stanton Moor Derbyshire.
Picture by Simon Large 2012
In the first half of
2013 I heard the sad news that a gentleman and he was a gentleman; whom I had
only met twice but after corresponding via Email I had the pleasure to call a
friend, had passed. His death was sudden, unexpected and I felt deeply that
sense of loss associated with the tragic realisation, that I would now never get
to know him better.
My original
intention was to produce an informal obituary for November 2013, as it was a
year almost to the day since I last met Simon. Furthermore, it is natural that
with the coming of the Hallowtide, for our thoughts to focus on those that have
departed. In my own mind were memories not only of friends such as Simon but
also family. For this latter reason I found myself unable to write, as the
anniversaries of the deaths of both my brothers lay only a few weeks either
side of the Hallowtide. Since both my brothers passed under tragic and
unexpected circumstance, I have until now been unable to face emotionally, the
prospect of writing about this dear man, Simon Large.
My first contact with Simon, a retired archaeologist and his artist wife Isabelle Gaborit, came
via a mutual friend in the Clan of Tubal Cain. From this networking and
exchange of emails including Facebook private messages, developed a
communication that eventually would lead to Isabelle writing an exceptionally
glowing review of a book I had edited on behalf of the Hearth of the Turning
Wheel, for the Irish magazine Brigid’s Fire.
An important factor in our networking was the global
electronic communication wonder of Facebook. Now many who know me, will know
that I near despise Facebook or at least many aspects of the social phenomenon.
Yet I recognise that Facebook has opened up a new area of networking and that
via the social networking site that we all love to hate, I have made genuine
and warm friendships.
I count amongst these my friendship with Simon and Isabelle and in the summer of 2012 as my
girlfriend and I made plans for a trip over the water, it was natural for us to
message our friends in Ireland. We sought advice on our arrangements and
suggested that if possible, we should meet in the flesh, to finally put faces
to Internet names.
So it was arranged that they would journey into Dublin to
meet us soon after our arrival in Ireland. We arrived by ferry via Wales a
little later than planned and made our way to the Dublin Youth Hostel, a little
north of the city centre and up the hill from the well known, Black Church.
Even though our arrival was later than expected, that evening Simon and Isabelle were collecting us from the hostel,
their plan being to take us out for dinner.
They arrived to collect us on foot and bearing gifts. For me
in particular and based on knowledge gleaned via Facebook and friends, a bottle
of spiced mead, home made by Simon himself. I cradled that mead, it travelled
up Eire, across Ulster and home across the sea to Derbyshire wrapped in towels
deep in my suitcase. It was a very good brew and greatly appreciated as a gift.
We left the hostel that evening, the four of us and headed
south down Parnell Square, Cavendish Row and O’Connell Street towards the city
centre, with me taking snap shots and Simon pointing out places of particular
interest for us to visit during our stay in Dublin. We passed the Garden of
Remembrance and I made a mental note to return in a day or two and take better
picture. We noted the General Post Office and Trinity Collage, places that we
would later visit.
Finally we arrived at Cornucopia on Wicklow Street, a well
known Dublin venue and a fine vegetarian restaurant. We enjoyed a pleasant
conversation, this being the first time we had heard each other speak and it brought
up a few surprises. Isabelle being of
French origin spoke her English with a soft accent but Simon was a surprise. He who was not of Irish
birth, had by having lived many years in Eire, developed a quite beautiful,
almost musical Irish accent. So natural was his manner of speech that one could
easily assume that he was a born Irishman.
The evening was
friendly, relaxed interspaced with archaeological anecdotes provided by Simon
and artistic discussion overseen by Isabelle. We walked back to their car for a
lift back to the hostel, parting as firm friends with a sincere wish to meet
again.
A few months later
we received the news that Simon and Isabelle planned to visit the UK, first to enjoy a brief stay in London
to visit the British Museum and Treadwell’s Bookshop, before journeying on to
Glastonbury for the ‘Day of the Dead’ weekend in early November. Although
meeting the couple in Glastonbury was impractical, I began making arrangements
to journey to London to meet them once again. This proved unnecessary when it
was revealed that the plans included a trip north to visit our mutual friends
in Derbyshire
This would
necessitate a temporary stop over in Derby and I remember checking out their
suggested hotels on foot, prior to them leaving Ireland. At least one of which
filled me with dread when I realised it was on the edge of an area of town of
dubious reputation. Ultimately we settled on their first choice, a safe venue
close to the city centre. This time is was our turn to meet Simon and Isabelle and take them for dinner, walking through Derby an admittedly less
glamorous city than Dublin but still historically important, with me pointing
out the Green Men on the Anglican Cathedral and the nearby Catholic church
designed by Pugin before arriving at Ye Olde Dolphin Inne. This public house is
said to be the oldest in the city and also the most haunted.
So once again we
enjoyed a pleasant evening meal, this time with a log fire, oak beams and real
ale, real English ale that Simon
enjoyed contentedly. Coincidently the Derby Ghost Walk was passing through that
evening, hosted by the television celebrity and local historian Richard Felix.
Knowing Richard through my work with the Pagan Federation I popped outside to
say hello and he graciously but briefly, popped into the snug to meet Simon
and Isabelle. An added bonus was when I
persuaded the staff to allow us to see the haunted upper restaurant room.
That was not where
the trip ended as since our visitors from Ireland were staying with our
friends, we were therefore able to enjoy a group trip into the Peaks, exploring
both Stanton and the Big Moor. Here once again, Simon’s historical and
archaeological interest was well catered for as we explored Neolithic remains
on both moors. It was on Stanton Moor that Simon took the picture that
illustrates this BLOG and it was on Stanton Moor, much to my embarrassment but
to everyone else’s amusement; that I succeeded due to my inept map reading
skills in getting us lost in the fog. I may never live that down.
So what are my
lasting memories of this dear sweet man? The answer is a complex and wide
ranging mixture that includes his soft voice, his air of calm, his humour, his
intelligence and thirst to learn about areas of the Craft that were new to him.
His friendliness and generosity set him apart, as a man whose friendship was
worth discovery. He made being happy a virtue.
All of this began
with an email and I recognise that without the Internet I would never have met
Simon and Isabelle. I would never have had the pleasure of being able to call
either a friend and in the case of Simon that was for a regrettably short
period of time. Without the modern wonder of this medium that we call the World
Wide Web, I would not now be writing this BLOG or be able to share with anyone
who cares to read, what a kind of man and friend Simon was.
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