Farewell, Old Salt

Found out the other day that an old workmate had died. He was a crusty old salt of a bloke, a Scottish sailor who worked in the printing service and sneaked a ciggie at every opportunity. Cancer got him in the end, as well it would. I hadn't seen him for quite a while, and guess I didn't know him that well anyway, but I liked him a lot...

Somebody told me that since he was made redundant he had bought a boat with his brother, planning to sail around the world. Then he got sick, and that was that.

So I got to remembering the time I almost had my head blown off, and all the things I wouldn't have done if that bullet HAD hit me. The every day near misses too, the bus that COULD have knocked you down, the cliff you could have slipped off, the deadly snake that might have bitten your bits when you wandered into the bush to pee.

And I vowed yet again never to put off the joyous things in life.