On Friday, 15 February 2019 we said goodbye to our good friend, Vince Dawes. He was funny, geeky, a gig buddy, a signing queue friend, always there when you needed an ear, and just generally an all around lovely, generous bloke.
13 years ago, 5 November 2005, I was in the signing queue for Simon Pegg and Edgar Wright at Forbidden Planet - they were there to sign copies of the graphic novel of Shaun of the Dead. I was reading a recently re-released copy of Arkham Asylum, because I love Dave McKean and a friend recommended it. This guy behind me asks me about it, surprised that I'm reading it for the first time, and we got to chatting. This was the second of 3 signings around the same few weeks, and we ended up hitting the third signing of the season together.
At the third signing in as many weeks, we met Neil Gaiman, this time for Anansi Boys, and our friendship was cemented.
Over the years we've seen a variety of gigs together, because he was amazing at knowing what was coming and getting those tickets booked before they sold out. I wasn't always able to go to every gig on offer (memorably a Pink Floyd reunion), but I made it to a fair few, and always had a good time. They weren't always gigs, they were afternoon or nights out, events. There were the big events - Spinal Tap, Flight of the Conchords, Snow Patrol, Steve Coogan, Pixies, Cake, Editors, Noah and the Whale, and so many more which have blurred into my rubbish memory over the past 13 years. We saw Bill Bailey, his Theremin and the BBC orchestra in (Watford?) some years ago, and that was a proper event.
But he also introduced me to the BBC's radio recordings, which I still try to get to on occasion. Free events which involve some finagling of leaving work early, queuing like a proper Brit, rushed meals of dodgy sandwiches or Byron nearby in later years, I've lost track of the awesomeness that we were audience members for, especially in those early days. I remember trying to get to a TV recording of Jonathan Ross on my birthday one year, top guest being Simon Pegg, but failing to make the final cut in the queue. That was the only recording we missed getting into.
We saw Midsummer night's dream in Hammersmith, and attended any number of odd little shows. Colin Hay at Dingwalls, Jerry Sadowitz at the Soho Theatre, Toxic Avenger 4 at the Prince Charles, Let the Right One In at Haymarket. And the signings. So many signings. Dave McKean was particularly memorable, various Neil Gaiman signings, Douglas Copeland, Nick Frost most recently and of course that fateful Simon Pegg/Edgar Wright signing at Forbidden Planet.
While I enjoyed many of those events, a few stand out especially. That first signing where we met, Bill Bailey, Cake at the little O2 venue, and Colin Hay at Dingwalls in Camden.
Often there was just coffee and a meal, or a visit to Kew to take photos of the orchids. He patiently got me through the Kew tree walk, terrified as I am of heights. We sat in a barely covered gazebo in the rain because we'd gotten caught out too far from any of the cafes.
Once in one of those snacking and chatting visits he opened up to me about how important our meeting and friendship was to him. He'd recently gone through a difficult time and that signing was his first time out in a bit. I'd been struggling a little myself, feeling trapped and isolated in my own life, and his friendship was exactly what I needed. We've both been through a lot since then.
We always traded text messages during lulls in visits, happy birthdays, happy Christmases, happy new years. Those lulls increased over the past couple of years, and I regret that. I lost another friend in May last year, and I swore that I would endeavour to rekindle those friendships which had lapsed a little.
When Cake tickets went on sale last October, I texted Vince immediately to see if he was going. I kicked myself at the time for not just buying the extra tickets as an early Christmas present for him. The Sunday after the Cake gig, after spending the evening wishing he'd been able to go, I composed a text in my head to send, telling him how great the gig was, how much I'd enjoyed our original outing to see them play, how much I'd always appreciated his friendship and how he'd looked out for me over the years, through divorce, finishing my Masters, unemployment, and a lot of time spent finding myself. I didn't send the text right away, because I was still composing it. I'd send it on Monday when I got home from work.
That Monday evening I received the text from Lilia, and it was far too late.
One of the songs chosen for his funeral was 'Naughty' from the Matilda the Musical, which also happens to be one of my favourite musicals as well. I'd forgotten until that moment that he'd introduced me to Tim Minchin oh so many years ago. I'd gone to the big TM gig with another friend (who I don't see often enough either), and have tickets to go see him in November with my partner, but like a number of favourite groups I've discovered, I have Vince to blame for the introduction. I've seen Matilda half a dozen times now, and kinda regret that I never got to see it with Vince, having not realised it was a favourite of his too. But of course it was. Of course it was.
He was a fierce advocate for kids rights and for his service users that he looked after. He had a dark sense of humour. He loved a good zombie flick. He was so pleased when I admitted to him that I'd seen Black Sheep. He always had a goodie bag for me full of lovely detritus, postcards, geeky swag from some event, mixtape CDs, burned music that he knew I'd enjoy. I have a handful of CD books full of awesomeness that he burned for me. He was generous with his friends and strangers, he was nice, he was incredibly thoughtful, and he was always getting a million things signed for friends who he knew would enjoy it, including me.
He was a good man, gone too soon. I know I'm not the only one who is devastated by his loss and who will miss him.
The closing song at his funeral was Monty Python's Always Look on the Bright Side of Life. He wanted us to remember the good times and to have the funs.
I'll miss him very much, but promise to have the funs. We're going to Kew this weekend to see the Orchids and remember him, and I'll be getting the annual pass this year and making a donation in his name. I'd like to visit a few times this year in memory, as I know it was one of his favourite places and I have fond memories of being there with him. Except that time when he asked me to try the bacon-mints outside one of the lily house. Did I mention his dark sense of humour?
I hope he's out there having all the funs himself.
