Today ten years ago

Today ten years ago, "out of the blue" my friend Jams died, seven days before his 50th birthday.
I am still sad. And grateful.

Thanks for being, Jams.

Jams and The Atomic Theory

In case you wish to read the words: The Englisch text you find here, at the blog of my friend Jams who today would have become 58; the translation into German here. 
Like eight years ago, I do like thinking of my friend Jams having a pint of plain tonight with Flann O'Brien [and perhaps a second with Father Jack whilst Ted (not Father Ted, obviously) is reciting an episode of The Master and Margarita; discussing with Sergeant Pluck the advantages and disadvantages of becoming a bicycle, whilst feeding Mimi with cheese; taking phantastic photos while strolling around in his new surroundings without feeling any pain in his knees, let alone longing for Garra rufa to nibble skin off his feet; organising a weekly poetry contest the winner of which will be rewarded with a bicycle-esque looking William Topaz McGonagall-statue and ... ah ... oh well ... enjoying his new alltemporaries with what he uses to call drivel, and now and then sending love to his not-wife Shirl, a smile to his Mum and Dad, a twinkle of his eyes to Tim, Li, Elahe and amongst others ... well ... to you and to me.!

Today seven years ago

At 11:44 a.m. seven years ago he posted A young dancer. Hours later Shaun Downey alias Jams O'Donnell died, seven days before his 50th birthday.
I miss him.

Thanks for being, Jams

Time flies.
There has happened so much within the past four years.
On this planet.
In my life.
And no detail, no episode I could share with The Poor Mouth.
Today, four years ago my friend Jams died.

There's nothing to add to what I wrote seven days later, on the day he could have celebrated his 50th birthday: 

Thanks for being, Jams.

Thanks for being, Jams

Words of sorrow and solace (from strangers) – however deep from the bottom of one's heart they may come – often, if not mostly, do sound shallow (for those who 'lost' a beloved one).

That is why I do rather wish that soon the moment may come when the memory of this and that episode, of a glance, a touch, a certain little gesture or quirk will conjure a smile on the lips of those who love [sic! present tense] him dearly ...  so that they may gain new strength ... for life.

I am glad that amongst many tears I shed during the past week, while re-reading this and that I found myself smiling, chuckling and sometimes even laughing. 

'The Poor Mouth' and 'Omnium', both blog names reminiscence of and homage to Flann O'Brien, met in 2007, and since we ... but I don't want to bore you.

To cut it short: Jams – I never called him Shaun – became a friend; intelligent, witty, generous, multi-talented and blessed with an honesty that would let him call a spade a spade whenever he'd feel the wish and the necessity.


I do like thinking of my friend Jams having a pint of plain with Flann O'Brien [and perhaps a second with Father Jack whilst Ted (not Father Ted, obviously) is reciting an episode of 'The Master and Margarita']; discussing with Sergeant Pluck the advantages and disadvantages of becoming a bicycle, whilst feeding Mimi with cheese; taking phantastic photos while strolling around in his new surroundings without feeling any pain in his knees, let alone longing for Garra rufa to nibble skin of his feet; organising a weekly poetry contest the winner of which will be rewarded with a bicycle-esque looking William Topaz McGonagall-statue and ... ah ... oh well ... enjoying his new alltemporaries with what he uses to call drivel, and now and then sending love to his not-wife Shirl, a smile to his Mum and Dad, a twinkle of his eyes to Tim, Li, Elahe and amongst others ... well ... to you and to me.

Today (March 29, 2013), seven days after he died, is Jams's 50th birthday.

All I know is that Jams O'Donnell Esq. will always be part of Omnium.

Thanks for being, Jams. Sláinte .

PS: To give but one example of the fun we often had, follow the link to Rich Poetry at The Poor Mouth's and from there to The Tayside Tragedian on the Bard and 73 comments.

Enjoy!

Rich Poetry at The Poor Mouth's

Who would not feel a great desire
to celebrate McGonagall & McIntyre?
There's a poetry slam right over here,
it's great fun though without beer.

So hurry soon over to Jams, please.
The winner might win a ton of cheese,
or even unlike Gordon Brown
get a statue in Edinburgh Town.



Bertus, et tu? :)

The Ode is not yet composed

He's still 20 years younger than John Major, I am still 28 years younger than Maggie Thatcher, only the proportional relation between our ages has changed a bit.

Happy birthday, Jams!

Wishing the best of Omnium which is - as everbody knows - everything!

As Tetrapilotomos hasn't finished his novel In-climbing-two-cats, yet, and McSeanagall is still composing his Ode to the Poor Mouth, and as no Third Policeman was available on you tube, here's to you, with kind regards from Flann himself.







And now, dear readers, head over to Mr. Jams O'Donnell Esq., as herewith I declare the bazaar for congratulations opened.

A coffee for The Poor Mouth

Hard times. :) Only five days after his birthday, Jams O'Donnell, master of The Poor Mouth, celebrates his blog's second anniversary.

Congratulations, Jams, and voilà, as promised, here's your anti-hangover-coffee.

By turning the mug you'd, of course, read:

When health is bad and your heart feels strange,
And your face is pale and wan,
When doctors say that you need a change,
A PINT OF PLAIN IS YOUR ONLY MAN.

Happy Birthday, Jams

As regularly readers do know, The Poor Mouth and Omnium have quite a few in common. And so have Jams O'Donnell (photo) and I.

There is but one tiny difference: Jams is exactly 20 years younger than John Major, and this will always remain, which is remarkable, but ... I shall always remain 28 years younger than Maggie Thatcher. :)

Hm, or is it rather another kind of coincidence?

To cut a long story short: Today Jams has become as young as I became nine years ago, which means he is now exactly one sixth younger than I am, which will - and herein I do find a great comfort - not remain. :)

In this spirit: Happy birthday, Jams!

My present for you: The legendary bicycle,

and my favourite Irish blessing:

May the devil not catch you before I shoot you!

I am looking forward us together celebrating your 104th! :)

Sláinte!

The Poor Mouth speaking for Omnium

Tonight, as I am a bit busy with something else - of course, it has to do with Omnium, but not at all with blogging - I keep mine shut, and let Jams O'Donnell's Poor Mouth speak for me.

Jams let leak a seriously hilarious story from his keyboard into the blogosphere.
It's about science and fragrant winds, which is unfortunately not as nice an alliteration as is "wohlriechende Winde".
Hm ... ah! ... Heureka! What's about "wondrous winds"?

And now: Hurry up, and enjoy. :)