Brian Jones RIP
Brian - or strictly, Bryn - is a man that I’ve known for about 30 years. We met as members of the EMVC, he was at the tail end of the baritone line that was next to the start of the bass line with me at the start. During tea breaks we chatted to one another and I got to enjoying his dry cockney humour.
That humour was a cover for his more serious nature that reflected a deep side to him borne of serious health afflictions starting with his stint in the army, serving in Cyprus as a conscript in 1956. Some of you might recall the British army involvement in Cyprus in response to a militant fighting organisation known as EOKA, encouraged by Archbishop Makarios and designed to end colonial rule by Britain during 1955 to 1959 which in 1960 led to independence.
While in the army, Brian contracted polyarthritis and, after six months in Cyprus, he was flown home in a Hastings bomber for recovery in a sanatorium during which time he suffered full paralysis. Thereafter, many other health afflictions followed him right up to his death. He managed his pain well to the point that his friends never fully appreciated his natural courage and fighting spirit. Not long before his death he boasted to me that he was qualified to become a Chelsea Pensioner by virtue of his status in the army which was reserved for a Private, NCO or Warrant Officer of the British Army.
Brian had two sides to him; one was jokey and flippant, the other was a quest for knowledge. After leaving the printing industry and then Hansard as a proof reader, he trained to become a horticulturist and ended up knowing the Latin names, but with a hint of cockney, of virtually all common garden flowers and plants. For a while, he used his acquired knowledge to design gardens as a self-employed landscape designer.
Most of the time that Brian and I were together, such as when travelling to perform in a concert with the EMVC in Chantilly or Cornwall, or periods in his Spanish villa in Mojarcas on the south east coast, he would initiate serious discussions on a wide range of issues, including religion, on an after-life, science, politics, WW2 about which he was very knowledgeable, plants and shrubs and animal behaviour.
Brian, Vandra, wife Margaret and I, spent a couple of highly enjoyable weeks at the villa after Brian and I had previously spent a couple of week there cleaning up the place. One of several amusing incidents was when Brian asked me to cut back a Carob tree that was blocking window-light into the villa. It seems that I went ott on the job by doing an overlop! The later confrontation with Brian was along the lines of Michael Caine reacting to his fellow bank robbers blowing up the bank when he came out with the memorable line:
“You’re only supposed to blow the bloody doors off!”, on seeing the whole bank destroyed.
Interestingly, Brian in his youth was a friend of the man who later called himself Michael Caine, at the start of his acting career.
Another amusing incident was when Brian and I had to stay for one night at a nearby, small hotel, because the villa had not been vacated when we arrived at Mojacar. To keep costs down we booked a double room. And, as we discovered after, the proprietor had gained the wrong impression of the relationship between Brian and me, which he thought was hilarious after having communicated his misconception to others!
Another hilarious incident was when we had lunch at the local restaurant, a stone’s throw away from the villa. When we arrived at the restaurant it was virtually empty and, after our meals for which we had paid, we noticed a blackboard on the wall opposite to our table. The blackboard was supposed to have the menu written on it with chalk. It was at this point that the mischievous side of us decided to carry out an experiment in psychology, as well as introduce a bit of humour in an otherwise dead environment.
Because none of the serving staff was in the restaurant, I went over to the blackboard and chalked out the solution to a quadratic equation and then rapidly returned to our table. The timing was perfect: the first customers came in, looked up at the board expecting variations of a paella, among other delicacies, to be listed. But no! All they saw was the solution to a quadratic equation.
As others turned up they also were confronted with the solution of a quadratic equation. Before long a crowd had gathered wondering what the solution of a quadratic equation tasted like which they discussed among themselves in Spanish, of course. Brian and I were in hysterics at this stage, not able to control our laughter. Things had now escalated to the point that we thought it appropriate, discreetly to leave, pushing our way past the crowd of confused customers! These were examples of how we spent our time after a hard day’s work: it was great fun!
We never fell out over any discussion, even ones involving politics and religion reputed to be a common cause of falling out between friends; maybe that was because we both evolved similar views about life and living it, and people.
The one of several innate talents that he had and which impressed me and others no little, was his copperplate script. The artistry in him enabled him to produce a style of writing that was a true work of art, the downside being that he was a slow writer! Any attempt to speed up his writing would have been at the expense of the true artistry of his script. This artistic talent is a feature that each of his children has inherited to varying degrees which, in turn, he inherited largely from his father.
No doubt, he will be applying for the job of serving St Peter as his official scribe and proofreader the next time a vacancy crops up!
Brian, RIP and be proud of your achievements and what you’ve left behind in your legacies, in the face of life’s extreme challenges thrown at you and so stoically fought against, except the very last one which was unwinnable.
Goodbye Buddy!
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