Paul had lived with Motor Neurone Disease for about twenty years, at the time he was the longest lasting survivor next to Stephen Hawkins. He was my best mate, and then sadly he died in 2007, just a few months short of his fiftieth birthday.

We'd played in bands together for years, so when I was recording an album, it seemed only appropriate to not only dedicate it to Paul, but also to produce a limited edition version of the CD to give to people who knew him for free, on condition that they donated money to the Motor Neurone Society.

Eulogy : May 5th 2007

Paul was my best mate

He was also a loving son,

a caring partner & father,

a doting brother and loyal friend.

He was a musician, an artist, a philosopher,

a comedian,a carer and counsellor.

He was a charmer, a perfectionist, a great talker,

and was always naughty in the most astute and inoffensive way.

He had a great mind, he treated everybody equally, and without judgement,.

He was always cool & stylish,

and throughout all the idignities & physical deterioration that he suffered –

he never changed.

He always maintained his dignity and integrity,

as well as his love of life and people.

He was,

In essence,

a beautiful man.

I first remember Paul walking into the canteen at college

wearing a pale blue jumper

and a well-groomed mop of hair.

He was doing Graphics whilst I did Fine Art.

He was the jesus of cool

Whilst I was at the other end of the style spectrum

My first thoughts were – What a poser.

But a poser is somebody without any depth –

and that,

most definitely, was not Paul.

He had an unceasing capacity to learn and embrace anything and everything, and then…

pass it on to others.

He taught me nearly everything I know –

and this carried on throughout his life

He also greatly influenced the content of my record collection

A former Sidestep student of his,

once said that he’d been to all the Art Colleges in London,

and none compared to Sidestep –

what he really meant,

was that none compared to Paul.

And this was because Paul always made time for whoever needed it –

he would go out of his way to help.

In fact he would go miles out of his way

To help

Even as his condition made him increasingly dependent on others –

he was still there offering emotional support  -

unconditionally, and without judgement.

He never forgot a birthday

And when it came to choosing a present –

it was never a token gesture .

Each decision was meticulously considered.

It always had to be wrapped

And every card had to be signed –

even though

it took every muscle in his body to do it

He would never let you guide the pen –

Because it had to be all his own work.

And there always had to be at least 3 kisses.

I had left college wanting to be a serious artist,

Paul, however, wanted to form a rock’n’roll band –

He’d bought an electric guitar and a hand-tailored suit

With  his compensation money from a motorbike accident

And, for some reason, he wanted me to join his band

It was certainly the last thing on my mind at the time.

But..if Paul was nothing else …

he was persistent

And we’ve been working on musical projects together ever since.

When his hands wouldn’t let him play guitar anymore –

we just moved onto recording.

In all these adventures in rock’n’roll –

Paul was always driven by a vision.

I couldn’t always see it at first –

But eventually I would catch up with him

His determination to realise his ideas was, at times, exhausting.

He also had an outstanding ability to talk –

and usually into the early hours of the morning.

Every time we would play up in Carlisle

The club would have closed at 2 o’clock

The van would be packed –

and with somebody already asleep in the back

And we would have to go and find Paul

We knew exactly where he would be –

At the bar

Talking to somebody about important factors in the meaning of life

And insisting that he would only be 5 minutes

Even when his speech

betrayed his ability to communicate the full depth of his ideas

This didn’t stop him

He would never let a word escape him

Even if it meant repeating it over again –

And it was always worth the wait.

Although you did have to watch his lips carefully

when he said Thank You

Pauls openness to people

And the world

Meant that things always happened to him

Something to do with lifes rich tapestry

And all that.

It also gave him another story to recount

I went to see him yesterday –

To run through this speech with him

Because Paul always had very high standards

And I needed to make sure it was OK.

On the shelf next to him

I noticed a couple of packets of Smarties

It seemed a bit bizarre at first

But then it clicked –

Paul liked Smarties

And then I remembered

How one Saturday morning

He had been woken by the doorbell

He went to the door, in his boxer shorts

Only to be greeted by a Policeman

Who came in

And asked Paul if he’d had anything stolen from his car

Because they’d just arrested a young lad

Who’d asked for 12 other offences

To be taken into consideration –

One of which

Was stealing a pack of Smarties from Pauls car

Those sort of things only happened to Paul

It was something to do with his spirit of adventure

I guess

There was nothing, that he was not passionate about :

Art, Music, People, the whole 580 episodes of Heimat, and..

For some strange reason

Football.

For the first 15 years that I knew him

He never even hinted that he watched the game,

Let, alone, that he supported Leeds

The only real pain that he ever talked about

Was Football –

For Leeds to lose

Hurt him more than anything else he had to endure.

He even helped ME to understand Football

Albeit on an intellectual level –

And for the duration of the 3 matches that I took him to –

I became a Leeds supporter.

Paul was also a complete, and utter charmer –

And carried on flirting till the end –

And usually in the most outrageous of ways –

It was this charm –

that allowed him to get away with his wicked sense of humour.

His ability to retain deep rooted morals, yet..

At the same time rip political correctness apart

Was a fine art. – and HE was an old master

He had once fallen

And had laid for ages

Trapped between his bed and the wall.

When the nurse arrived

She couldn’t find him

She was in and out of rooms

Calling his name.

When she came into the bedroom

He said

‘I’m over here’…

‘I’ve become invisible’

It was this ability to not be defined by his condition

That made those around him

Blind to its existence

And only see

The Paul within

The one that had always been there

And that had never changed throughout his life.

I’ve read lots of messages

And talked to lots of people

Since Paul passed away –

And they all say the same thing.

It’s as if he’d already prepared the chapters of his story

And we

Just had to fill in the details

And it didn’t matter whether people were talking about 30 years ago

Or two weeks ago

Through all that he’d had to cope with

He was still the same.

For Paul

Independence was paramount

From having been told,

When he was first diagnosed with MND

‘To go home and widen the doorways’

He held out against every stage of its progression

Resisting it with a remarkable resilience

Throughout all the indignities that crept into his life –

He maintained incredible dignity

And touched the lives

Of everybody he met

We never talked about death

Except in an abstract or poetic sense

Because there wasn’t really any point

Life was what you did -

Death was just something that happened

And Paul enjoyed life too much

Even though he was continually challenged by it.

Pat had asked him recently

If he ever asked

‘Why me?’

He said ‘No’

‘There are hundreds worse off than me’

And he was right

Because he was surrounded

By people who loved and cared about him

In the way

that he loved and cared about everybody

Paul was a beautiful man

And Paul –

I aint half going to miss you