Good,bad, ying yang, shit n sugar.

22nd November 2003.

It's been a mad, crazy, wonderful, tragic mixed up time. Did you expect
anything else from me? A month has passed since my last confession ?er
diary entry, of course my world has done a few double pike back flips
in that time.

Okay, let's do the horrible bit first because it's all good after
that.

I don't know if I've mentioned Iain before. He's my cousin. He had a
condition, from birth, that left him retarded. He was slow, but he was
in that awful category (for him) of being a super-intelligent-ESN. He
was too slow to fit in with 'normal society and too bright to fit in
with the mentally handicapped people he spent much of his life
with.

Iain was very much a part of my family. He was high maintenance. He
talked incessantly, and needed a lot of time and attention. My aunty
Mavis is wonderful. She's a teeny tiny 3 ft 10 and one of the most
cheerful people I've ever known. She has looked after Iain for the past
46 years. Iain stopped developing at ten so it's been difficult for
her.

He was a character, but this isn't about singing Iain's praises, we all
did that when we saw him. He was a love.

Anyway, He's been a bit iffy for months now. Complaining of stomach
pains, going for tests, he had lots of bowel scans and laparoscopy and
such like. At no time was he given a simple heli-bacter blood test. The
pain that man must have endured, without complaining as a normal person
would, is unimaginable. Sunday night, three weeks ago, he collapsed. By
the time the ambulance had arrived he had thrown up A BUCKET FULL of
blood.

Iain died from two perforated ulcers. People don't die from ulcers
these days. It's not the doctor's fault (although the family do feel he
was neglected in hospital because of the way he was). Earlier, when
Mavis took him for tests, a doctor asked Iain to show him where it
hurt. He grabbed his chest and said "my groin," he hadn't a clue. He
was only ever treated for bowel trouble and not a stomach
condition.

Anyway it's been a heartbreaking time. I can speak honestly here. I
loved Iain. I'm so sorry he went the way he did. He was a lovely
person, but he was not a happy one. He wanted to be like other men. He
would cry regularly and say that he just wanted a wife and family that
he just wanted to be able to shave, that he just wanted to look like
and be like other men. I'm glad he's died before aunty Mavis. Mavis is
seventy-three. She's tired. If anything happened to her Iain would have
been all right. He would have gone to Pat, David, or even God forbid
Lesley. They were his brother and sisters, they would have taken him
and they would have done their best, he really was very, very loved ?
but they wouldn't be Aunty Mavis. Iain would be a burden on them. And
he would have KNOWN that he was a burden. He's out of it now, but he'll
be so missed. Mavis is the youngest seventy-three year old I've ever
met. You wouldn't give her a day over fifty. She line dances and plays
for a darts team and party's. She can holiday now and enjoy her life.
She's been tied to Iain for the past forty-six years and never
begrudged a single minute of it.

Life would have been unbearable for Iain if Mavis had died before him.
He would have moved in with one of his siblings. They all love him
dearly. He was mentally retarded, but he was never daft. I
think life for him would have been awful without his mum. Deep down he
wasn't a happy man, he knew he was different.

I will take Keepers, and I will read it to him. He would have been so
chuffed to know he was in a book. I think he'd like Neean, his
character. Iain was a clown and half the time I'm sure he talked
rubbish on purpose to make people laugh. Like I said, he wasn't as daft
as he'd have you believe.

Mark took it hard, he and Iain were big mates and talked exactly the
same brand of rubbish J .

I found out something tonight that I never knew. I'm sad that I didn't
know. Iain couldn't read, he doesn't play an instrument, and yet he
could read music apparently. I didn't know that. I've got my cousin
Lou's kids staying with me tonight. Lianne said that Iain taught her to
read music. Aunty
Mavis is very musical as was my mother. I can't read music, he could
have taught me. When we were younger we always used to sing Elvis songs
together ... he had a bloody awful voice, but he knew every word of
every Elivs song released. (The bit about Iain teaching Lianne to read
music is not true. I checked with Mavis and he couldn't read a note. I
suppose it's nice that Lianne remembers him that way though. I thought
it was surprising.)

He used to tell people that he was once in a band with Elvis.

I felt so honoured that I was asked to write his eulogy. I did David's
the other year and I think I'm the family's official speech writer
now.

I have decided I hate burials. Cremations are far less traumatic. The
funeral was a late one. It didn't start until quarter to three. Add to
that over an hour for the service and we took Iain to his grave at
about four-o clock when it was already getting quite dark. The day was
bleak and dismal anyway. It was awful walking away and leaving him in
the lonely graveyard by himself. The eulogy went well and made
everybody laugh and cry. Especially the bit about him going by Scotland
(Ben Nevis) to get to Ravenglass, only a few miles up the road. Bless
him. Nasty day.

Iain's eulogy.

Our Iain was born 'a little bit different.' He had learning
difficulties and social problems that made life hard for him. It
wouldn't be fair to not acknowledge this, Iain was Iain and his
problems were part of who he was. Despite his condition, or maybe even
because of it, Iain was a huge character, well known by local people.
He was a special son, brother and uncle.

He was also very popular. We know this to be a fact because? he told us
every day.

Lots of people have catchphrases and Iain was no exception. If
something upset him, he would shake his head, tut loudly and say in a
sombre voice, "Well, if our dad was alive today, he'd turn over in his
grave."

Iain had three great talents. The first was his humour. He came out
with so many daft things that they should have their own name and be
called Iainisms. This is what he will always be remembered for. Often
his laughs were unintentional. If someone on the outside heard the way
the family teased him, they would probably be horrified. His two
biggest tormentors were his brother, David, and nephew Andrew. God help
anyone outside the family who teased him, but Iain was always at the
receiving end of some prank or other, and he loved it. It was his way
of basking in attention and, their special way of showing their
affection for him. He wasn't a great philosopher. Nobody was ever going
to applaud him for his intellect. He wasn't artistic, creative or an
expert in quantum physics. Iain's greatest gift was to give people a
laugh. He loved to ham it up, and would laugh harder than anyone else
when he came out with one of his blunders. He had this mad laugh that
screwed his face up. Often he would laugh until tears squeezed out of
the corners of his eyes and roll down his cheeks and that would set
everyone off again. One day he got a bit mixed up and told us he was
getting 'good contraception on his telly'. We never laughed at Iain, we
only ever laughed with him.

The second Special ability he had was to love without judgement. His
community nurse Kay was responsible for making a big change in his
life. She got him his job with workwise. Only a few weeks ago, he
thanked her for that and told her, ' he had everything to thank her for
because she'd turned his life around'. His boss, Gary, summed up this
openness while Iain was ill. He said that he had never met a group of
men, who could openly display their care and concern for each other, as
the Workwise team do. He was touched and humbled by the way they
encouraged each other if one of them was struggling. Iain loved his
job. He had a sense of purpose and belonging. He loved the people he
worked for and with. Going to Workwise everyday gave him a feeling of
independence and self-worth.

Iain knew he was different. He was slower than most, but he wasn't
daft. His greatest wish was to be like other men, to have a home of his
own and a wife and family. That never happened for him. He envied what
most people take for granted and see as their right. Sometimes, he
wasn't happy with himself as a person. Maybe this is where his third
gift came from. Iain always tried to make people feel good about
themselves. He was sensitive and often became emotional. When a family
member had a book published he said with tears in his eyes, "Oh, I'm so
proud of you darlin. One day, you're going to be a famous writer ? just
like Churchill. He was friends with everyone and always had a hug and a
few nice words for visitors to his home. He took an interest in what
they had to say, he was proud of their accomplishments and he always
made people feel welcome. As long as Mavis Rogers lives at Rowe Hall,
there will always be love, but this past week there has been a peculiar
and final quietness.

Iain was a regular visitor to the local boot sales. He loved haggling
for bargains and came home excited, dying to tell everyone what he'd
picked up, and how much he'd paid for it. He had many friends there and
while some of the infrequent stall-holders might not know him
personally, they'll know his laugh and remember his friendly nature.
Eventually, they'll ask about him when he doesn't turn up on a Sunday,
and they'll miss him coming round to pass the time of day and barter
with them. He bought many things from the bootie, but the most
memorable was a present for his mam. Mavis was delighted, not so the
people travelling from Ulverston to Dalton that day. He bought her a
seven-foot long clothes prop and took up two lanes of the road carrying
it home horizontally across the handlebars of his scooter. He didn't
care that he was holding everyone up and causing a traffic jam. As a
child he was just as inventive when it came to Christmas presents. He
used to steal things from his mam's dressing table and then wrap them
up and give them back to her for Christmas

Iain was easy to please. Usually, all he wanted was someone to chat to.
As long as he felt respected, he was polite, well mannered and gentle
in his ways. He was always grateful for anything he was given, and was
happy with simple pleasures. A packet of cigs, an evening at the pub,
his boot sales and his computer games. He loved being an uncle to all
his young nieces and nephews and often had some little gift to give
them when they visited. He loved his scooter. One day, he decided he
was going to go to Ravenglass. Mavis asked him if he knew how to get
there. He said, "Yes, I go through Little Urswick, past Eleven's Bridge
and come back by Ben Nevis!"

It's easy in moments like this to lapse into insincere sentiment, to
turn the person who has passed into something he wasn't. Iain wasn't
some special angel sent from God above, he wasn't a paragon of virtue.
He was a regular bloke with ordinary feelings and failings. He could be
hard work, irritable, lazy, and Lord, could that man talk. If there was
a university course in chunter, he would have a chunttering degree.
But, he was loved. And the good thing that his family can take away
with them today is that he knew he was loved. How many people pass away
not knowing if anyone really cared about them? Iain knew. Sometimes he
was quite shy and awkward around people. Other times he tried too hard
to make people like him, and could talk his own brand of rubbish. But,
with his family, and close friends, he could just be himself.

During his brief stay in hospital he was no trouble to anyone, he
didn't complain. His one act of defiance was to turn all his monitors
off because the flipping beepers were getting on his nerves.

He didn't associate his weightloss with the illness he had. He thought
it was down to the work he'd been doing and he told David proudly,
"When I started workwise, I was eleven stone three. Now, I'm only five
pounds seventy-five.

Perhaps, if he hadn't been such a good patient, we wouldn't be here in
this church today.

His hero was Elvis Presley and, as Iain paid tribute to Elvis so often
while he was alive, Elvis can return the favour and pay tribute to him
today.

Iain wanted to look in the mirror and see a man who looked like other
men. He might not have seen what he wanted to be, but he was a lovely
man.

End.

The funeral was awful. It's the first time I've seen Mavis looking
anywhere near her age. It was very traumatic, BUT .. Iain was
handicapped. I have done him such a dis-service. I always thought
outsiders to the family found him a pest. I know sometimes I'd groan if
Mark said he'd come to visit. Pennington church is not big but it
comfortably holds 200 people. Iain's was the first funeral that they
have EVER had to open the choir stalls for. People were standing round
the sides, and some people had to wait outside. Workwise alone put on
two coaches so his mates could be there. Little and Cain said they
estimated in excess of 250 people turned up. It was very humbling. I
can't believe he was so well thought of. I know we loved him but that
funeral taught me a lot about presumptions. I go to a lot of funerals
with work. I can honestly say that I have never attended a funeral with
so many mourners.

To end, I was talking to Mavis on the phone and said to her that I knew
exactly what Iain would be saying today. He'd be going round everyone
he bumped into and saying, "How many people turned up to your funeral?
? Is that all? ... I had 2 million at mine."

I want to talk about my other cousin Andrew, but not tonight. Time to
move onto happier stuff. Tons to tell so I'll probably summerise.

First of all.

Better the Devil You Know, has a new edit. It's not brilliant, but it's
better than it was. A lot better.

Secondly, it's been nominated for the British Book Awards .. and? has
made the long list of 150.

I have two new books out and in the shops now.

People on the Edge, ?11.75

Keepers of the Quantum ?09 59

Keepers is the sequel to Leap and I've sold my first hundred filling
orders of the people who were waiting for it.

Have I already told you I opened a library a few weeks ago? I think I
did.

And then I did the Authors in Cumbria convention.

And I've currently got five book signings lined up for December. The
first is tomorrow. I know, I know, it's not December yet. Tomorrow is
the Christmas festival in Barrow. Charity Tate from Emmerdale is
switching on the town lights and I'm to meet her.

After the Cumbria authors thing a lady rang me up and asked if I'd be
interested in doing a signing at this do. She said she wanted,
'something different,' to draw in the crowds. I'm not sure I'm it, but
there you go. Apparently I'm to sit next to Santa's Grotto which seems
like an ideal place to be. I'm looking forward to it. I just hope I
have a good run up to Christmas because I've got myself into a lot of
debt buying books. I've taken out two credit cards and maxed up two and
a half grand on them. It's scary, but I've done it. The idea is that I
pay them back (and make enough profit to buy more books without credit)
in six months.

Watch this space and in May (6 months from now) please keep all sharp
implements under lock and key.

Life `aint so bad. I've got tons of books to sell. So, if anyone's
stuck for Chrissy present ideas ?. Pleeeease! Think in this
direction.

As well as doing Andrew next time. I also want to discuss my funeral
arrangements should anything go wrong with my surgery. That'll be fun!
Morbid, I know, but Iain went in for much less than me and look what
happened to him. It's scared me silly.