LAWRIE. (Today’s story is written by my twin brother Chris).

 A car roared up and down the road outside my home office. By the time it passed the third time I’d had enough and walked down the road where I saw the car parked. I was met with a tirade of abuse, followed by threats, (including him telling me he knew where I lived and me telling him I knew where he lived!), an uppercut to my jaw and a phone call to the police.

Two police officers spoke to me some weeks later and asked if I wanted to take further action. I explained that I had another option, which was for the assailant to meet me in person and offer a genuine apology. The officers looked surprised and some weeks later I shook hands with Lawrie outside his house. He apologised, I told him I forgave him and he gave me produce from his garden. 

This was the beginning of a very special friendship. I would regularly visit Lawrie and would always leave with gifts. 

Unfortunately Lawrie suffered a massive stroke which the doctors said would have killed most people. He could no longer read or write and much to his frustration would often struggle to converse. Interestingly, Lawrie could sing fluently, complete maths problems and solve complex puzzles.

Laurie kept bee hives and I would read him the ‘Bee News’. I also read him a diary his daughter would keep of their weekly trips and meals together. We talked much about our families, his hobbies and my teaching. Lawrie would often remark, ‘It’s a funny old world’ and ‘You never know what’s around the next corner, so make the most of what we have now’.

On a few occasions, Lawrie would be disconsolate about what he could no longer do because of the stroke and I would gently remind him of his amazing intellect, his worth and how much we meant to each other. He often told me he loved me and I would reply the same. 

Just over one year ago Lawrie tragically died in a house fire and my tears for him have never been far away. He was a rough diamond, the kind of person I admire most: loyal, cheeky, honest, mischievous, a heart of gold.

I miss Lawrie, always will.