F*c* you Jamie

In recent days I received the sad news that a friend has left us. Everyone who knew Jamie was struck by his chaotic, uncontrollable vitality.

Jamie had a hunger for life, he was unbearable, yet we all loved him, and everyone who knew him keeps a wonderful memory of him.

He was intense, incapable of keeping still and quiet even for a few minutes, he made unusual requests to the kitchen (like having a burger and an egg on his pizza), he drank an endless number of lager beers, and he had that way of sparring, totally unable to control himself, which made him extremely dangerous and spectacular for the first 30 seconds, before fading and collapsing spectacularly.

I remember a birthday of his celebrated here, when we affectionately had T-shirts made in his honour, which we all wore, with the title of this post, and then he and I threw ourselves into a sparring session with a compulsory beer between each round. We hurt each other and it was magnificent.

I imagine him now in the Valhalla of warriors, driving Odin mad trying to keep up with him and planning pranks with Loki.

Whoever knew him, raise a toast to him; he will be happy.

m.m.