Bob Dylan's Dream

While riding on a train goin' west
I feel asleep for take my a rest
I dreamed a dream that make me sad
Concerning myself and the first few friends I had.

With half-damp eyes I stared to the room
Where my friends and I spent many an afternoon
Where we together weathered many a storm
Laughin' and singing 'till the early hours of the morn'.

By the old wooden stove where our hats was hung
Our words were told, our songs were songs
Where we longed for nothin' and were satisfied
Joking and talking about the world outside.

With haunted hearts through the heat and cold
We never thought we could ever get very old
We thought we could sit forever in fun
Our chances really was a million to one.

As easy it was to tell black from white
It was all that easy to tell wrong from right
And our choices they were few and the thought never hit
That the one road we traveled would ever shatter and split.

How many a year has passed and gone
Many a gamble has been lost and won
And many a road taken by many a first friend
And each one I've never seen again.

I wish, I wish, I wish in vain
That we could sit simply in that room again
Ten thousand dollars at the drop of a hat
I'd give it all gladly if our lives could be like that.

Well John I hope you've got your log in details to read this, its your old friend from happy, carefree times many years ago Hannah. How did I not find you til I found this website? I spent several years trawling the net for you both but I know social networking would definitely not be your thing you buggers.
I am devastated that you have slipped off this mortal coil, the times we spent together, you, Sam, Tanya, Steve and I were brilliant and hilarious. Sadly too few of them we now know.
The worlds inhabitants are slowly becoming more dull and selfish as each year passes, I trust you are keeping fine company now and when I checkout of here, I am coming to find you because I know there will never be such an interesting, kind, funny guy as yourself. You have left a huge void.
I have met up with Sam again and met your *** son Ryan. I want him to be page boy at my wedding if that's ok with you? Yes wedding, someone is mad enough to want to wanna settle down with little ole me. I'm sure they'll tell you about it some day.
I'm gonna go and blast some Bruce now and sink a Rolling Rock beer for you. Sweet memories mate xxx

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-NtmjSnLqxc

x

Wow. If it's not you it's bleedin' Sam eh? Sharing special recordings of special songs that just break your heart.

The video below belongs no where else but here. I get it Sam. I do. x

I'm seeing Bruce this year you'll be pleased to know. Finally eh? Not sure quite how I'm going to cope when he plays Thunder Road tho, because I see you gurning like a goon, head tilted, beer in hand and growling the lyrics at me in my head every single time.

I guess I'm gonna have to try and prove to you 'I'm tougher than the rest' *cymbal crash*

Miss you just as much as I ever did funny man.

Chip x

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AyAF0UQ4cmk

You would be so proud of Ryan, on the school council! I wish you were here to see Joe and Caroline juicing and reading the Observer! You would wonder how they all grew up so fast!

For my dad xxxxx

Still thinking of you and missing you Little John. Still can't believe you have gone away for ever, there was so much still to talk about. Love you xx

Just seeing in your birthday with one of the finest albums EVER ; The Asylum Years. Thanks again for the mentoring, if somewhat forced at times! I need it.

Ryan is picking up the mantle..with films at any rate now he's a firm Empire reader...well..in between Lego mags.

Miss you lots funny man. Love always. Chip x

Can't believe it's been a year. I still find it really hard to accept that John's not around - although of course he's a permanent fixture in my head and my heart.

Well here I am, sitting in same place as I was last year, still missing you Buddy. No one else's mouthwash makes it x

Birthday thoughts of John, who was so many things to me - much loved and loving friend, hugely valued assistant, co-conspirator, support in difficult times, part of my history as I was part of his. It's lonely to think that there's no-one left who understands the shorthand and gets all the jokes. Who will ever think of hiding my chocolate in the tea pot now? I miss his presence in the world more than I can adequately express.

Happy Birthday Johnny. Listening to some favourites of yours right now. x

It has been three Months. Hard ones for those closest to John, where an impossible void will never be filled. I hope you are all keeping together and finding support when you need it.

I just decided to do a little poem that reminds me of Little John, as he is known to me.

For all those who have been lucky,
To have met Little John and Robin at play,
Dressed up as Dick Turpin types,
Making new friends along Cavandish Way.

Little John always looked like the muscle,
But his tongue was his weapon of choice,
Never one to be stuck for a few funny stories,
My memory will always be of his voice.

His being was to spread a rich happiness,
This was based on music, love and laughter,
No one could spent time with ‘the man’,
And these memories not bring a smile after.

Not ones to rob from the rich,
More generous hearts are difficult to find,
Just a short time to have known our Little John,
Gave one a richness of a different kind.

I hope this poem finds you well Little John, and that all those you touched with your spirit, who went before and after you, are enjoying your company once again. We shall talk again soon.
Brian

I stumbled across this site yesterday whilst looking for any mention of Robin, an old friend I lost touch with about 20 years ago. I sat at my desk at work, which coincidentally is just around the corner from Fernbrook Road, feeling numb as I read the kind words from John's friends, Julien, Dave, Wendy, names I had long forgotten.

As I mention above, it was Robin that was my friend and we were pretty close from primary school up until our late teens and I spent alot of time at Cavendish Ave during that period. Unfortunatley we just kind of drifted apart, but John and Robin are the reason for my love of film and music, which has been passed onto my son. I first heard Rock the Casbah as I sat in the back seat of Johns car (the austin I think)as he gave Robin and me a lift somewhere. Don't know where we were going but I do remember John explaining to me who the Clash were in response to my question "what's this song?"

I wasn't sure whether I should post anything but having slept on it and having dug out my copy of Bat out of Hell and playing it in the car on the way to work this morning, I just wanted to say to everyone how terribly sorry I am for your loss. It's clear John was loved very much and will be deeply missed. That is no surprise.

I did not know John.Sarah his sister is a great friend of mine and I know she loved John dearly.She told me about his life,his work being a dad. He seemed to get everything he could out of life.As we all should each and every day.This website is a way to pay homage to John and his contribution to life.A wonderful idea. Aaron

John's wedding to Sam on 9th Sept was a mixed affair, a joyous celebration of tow greats peoples love affair, but tinged with sadness as John was so ill at that stage. However, he rallied to says some words to Sam, in true John style these were quoted from a Bruce Sprinsteen song! I thought it might be nice to inclue them here:

"Hey little dolly won't you say you will
Meet me tonight up on top of the hill
Well- just a few miles 'cross the county line
There's a cut little chapel, neastled down in the pines
Say you'll be mine little girl, I'll put my foot to the floor
Give me the word now sugar, we'll go ramroddin' forever more"

Ramrod Bruce Springsteen The RivernullRamrodThe River

John, whenever we think of you we smile. The three of us spent many happy times together. We'd drive over to your house and head off to catch a movie or go for a beer, or simply hang out in front of the TV searching out low budget shows such as "Bellamy" or "Bullseye". Whatever we did, we usually ended up laughing 'til we ached.

You loved music and movies with a passion. We remember you singing your heart out to Meatloaf or The Blues Brothers in your Austin Cambridge.

As this is read out, we are sitting in a Corsican church reflecting on the many times we shared with you.

We send our love to Sam, Ryan, Sadie, John, Robin, Olivia, Sarah, and to all our friends.

John, you had such a love of life and have left us way too soon. You were the dearest friend, not only great fun but caring, sensitive and loyal.

We are going to miss you desperately.

John and I met because of music.

I met him in about ‘93. I wasn’t long out of university, at my first proper production company job, and I was still shy, not one to force a conversation out of anyone. So thank god for Southside.

That day – of all days – I happened to be wearing a Southside Johnny and the Asbury Jukes tour t-shirt (Better Days, of course). I knew there was a freelance editor coming in to help out so, first thing in the morning, I walked down into the basement at Healthcare Productions, past the wall of nursing programmes in so many languages, and up to the edit suite. I say suite, it was practically a broom cupboard, so I didn’t walk in, I just stood at the door. John looked up from his bank of U-Matic decks, clocked the t-shirt and smiled at me.

And that was it. So simple. Of course, even without the t-shirt, I know John and I would have become firm friends, but I like to think that what might have taken a few weeks took, literally, seconds.

Over the years, he and Sam reintroduced me to Bob Seger and taught me that it was okay to love the ‘Loaf; and we went to gigs together – Steve Earle, Southside and, of course, Springsteen. But the one constant was the phone call. From every pesky Springsteen concert that I’d failed to get into, John would call me and let me listen to a minute of a song. I know he wanted to share the experience with me, knowing I’d get a kick out of a few bars of Backstreets. But I like to think that there was a part of him that couldn’t help but enjoy reminding me that he was there ... and I wasn’t.

One gig above all remains special: Bruce Springsteen and the E Street Band’s reunion tour at Earl’s Court. It was the only gig I’ve ever camped through the night for: John and I in one of the underground tunnels in mid-winter, listening to our fellows playing songs on an acoustic guitar, and praying that we didn’t finally fall asleep next to each other only to wake up like John Candy and Steve Martin in Planes, Trains and Automobiles. (We didn't, in case you were wondering).

I guess what must have been John’s last gig was Springsteen again, this time in Hyde Park. We sat and chatted on a picnic blanket on a summer's afternoon, tolerating one of the support bands. Were we just going through the motions, had we simply done this too many times before? But then a ripple went through the crowd – the support band (New Jersey’s The Gaslight Anthem) had invited Springsteen onstage for one song. We leapt up and basked in the fun and joy of it.

John and I met through a love of music, and through music I’ll always remember him.

Peace, John.

Your friend, Ben.

It's so unbelievable that John is gone. I remember fondly the VW or Audi (it was always a German car ...) pulled up next door, the constant laughter and chat about everything and nothing, and Ryan playing in the garden with John and Sam. Such a terrible thing to happen to such a fabulous family: we are all just lost for words.
The O'Briens, next door to John and Sadie's house in Dublin

What I'll always remember is that you and Sam were the rock and roll couple we all wanted to be. So generous with your knowledge and your passions, I should have made more effort for the concerts in recent years, but that's on me.

To the man who taught me everything I know...about music and film. Even the bits I didn’t want to know! I still think there are too many westerns in the world..and you should have given Singin’ In The Rain a chance! I have so many memories of you crouched in front of the video/DVD/record player into the wee small hours saying ‘Just listen to this!’

Thank you for introducing me to Tales From The Crypt and Tom Waits..and I guess I should thank you for Bruce too.

Thank you for the numerous late night drunken chats at Balder Rise and Fernbrook and thank you for making me laugh until it hurt. Most of all, thank you for letting me be there when Ryan was born. He’s a chip off the old block and he’s going to make his dad proud. But you already know this.

As I’ve told you before, you and Sam were the cool couple, the couple my friends wanted to be like. I cannot imagine a Sam without John. Miss you so much.

Love always.
Chip

'Cause every time I hear that melody, well, something breaks inside
And the grapefruit moon, one star shining, can't turn back the tide’

My beloved brother, miss you so much, so glad we had that great holiday in Tillicoultry a couple of years ago, will always treasure the memories and fun we all had. Will always be there for Ryan and Sam. Love you.

For John. 11 August 2009.

Speech from service:

Bruce Springsteen will never be the same again. Nor will Tom Waits. Meatloaf. Bob Seger. Neil Young, The Doors. I always listened to those artists with John by my side. Even when he was miles away. He wasn’t really. Not when the songs were playing.

John loved songs. They cut to the heart of things. They lay something bare. Much like John’s legendary sense of humour.

Many years ago, John and I went to see Tom Waits at the London Dominion. Good seats, close to the front. One of the songs affected us both greatly. Up until that point, we’d both thought of BURMA SHAVE as a good, but minor song. Tom sang it differently that night. He told us it was about the billboard ads he’d seen on the side of the highway advertising a men’s shaving foam called Burma Shave. But as a child, Tom had looked at the signs from his father’s car as they travelled and imagined they were advertising some magical, mythical town up ahead. A town where good things happened. John and I talked about that performance for many years. And how potent it had been. It was like a touchstone. We’d just look at each other and say “Burma Shave,” and knew what it meant.

Often I would text John on the way home from work just to let him know what I was listening to. I’d tell him I was listening to Gates Of The West and how The Clash still meant just as much to me now as they ever did, if not more. And we’d be off on a long exchange of texts that lasted the whole journey home.

Once, from Annecy in France, I sent him a text message essay on Bruce’s missing lyric in the acoustic version of Born In The USA where the narrator becomes frustrated about the death of his brother and can’t sing the next line and so he just lets the line go. And how that silence was perhaps the most powerful thing Bruce ever did because of the weight of all the other words in all the other songs. I was meant to be working but I had to send the text because I was burning to share the thought with John. He knew that our lives are measured and mapped in songs. The songs we listen to, the songs we love.

Who are we going to share those songs with now?

We’ll still share them with you, John.

The morning John died, Robin sent me a text saying “John Boy has started his journey, watch out for a new star tonight.”

I’m going to name that star Burma Shave.

Thank you, John. For everything. For all the songs. For all the time. For all the life and the laughter. Travel safely and Godspeed.

John made a great contribution to our community in Lewisham. The borough will be a poorer place without his enthusiasm and commitment.

Mayor Sir Steve Bullock

Friday 21 August will be remembered as a wonderful celebration for a wonderful Guy. I hope we all did you proud and that I look forward to the next time we get together. You we everywhere I looked on Friday Brother.

You were a great neighbour John, Definitely the coolest bloke on Fernbrook Road, you will be missed. Rest In Peace.
Andrew, Elise and Max

You will be greatly missed, but never be forgotten!