Twenty Six

Today, 23rd November 2024, should have been Isaac's twenty sixth birthday. Instead, he's twenty three forever. The build up to today through the last few weeks has been quite gruelling, today's date and next Saturday's (the anniversary of his death) hanging over us. It adds a heaviness to everything and there are times when I have quite vivid flashbacks of exactly what we were doing three years ago, his 23rd birthday and then the week that followed. 

He's always there in some ways, hanging around just out of view. I still hear him sometimes, very clearly saying things at or to me. Recently I went to see him at the cemetery and his headstone, which we had put in back in July, had bird shit all over his name. It was very dismaying, I was quite upset by it for a moment, and then I heard him say, 'there's bird poo on my name Dad' and chuckle- and I smiled. The only thing I had with me to clean it was my Woodleigh Research Facility tote bag so there I was, half upset and half smiling, scrubbing Isaac's headstone with an Andrew Weatherall related cloth bag dipped in water from the nearby standpipe. He'd have laughed at that too (and I think Andrew probably would have as well).

Happy birthday Isaac. Love you. X

This record has become one I associate with him. The copy in the picture below is actually Isaac's, bought for him by a friend of mine when he was born. North Country Boy was released in 1997, Isaac was born in 1998. Neil came round with this and a copy of The Clash's Train In Vain on 7" not long after Isaac got home from hospital in December 1998. Twenty three years later, we played it at Isaac's funeral. 

In September last year I saw The Charlatans at New Century Hall. They played Between 10th And 11th in full and then the hits and although I was bracing myself for the moment, it still hit deep when it came, those big guitar chords, walloping drums and Hammond riffs, and then Tim singing, 'Hey country boy/ what are you sad about?/Every day you make the sun come out...' 

It's amazing, the power music has, that magical combination of chords, banging, electricity and words- words that were written by someone else, about something else, that one day become about you... 

'Even in the pouring rain/ I'll come to see you'

You wouldn't believe how often we go to the cemetery in the rain- or how often we go to the cemetery and it starts raining. I mean, I know we live in Manchester but even so, it rains a lot up at that cemetery. There he is again. 'I don't like the rain Dad'.  

When we walked into the chapel at Isaac's funeral and this song was ringing out, I did for a moment think that I'd never be able to listen to it again, that it would be forever too much. Happily, it isn't. I hear it now and I think of him. 

'I'll be good to you/ If I could I'd make you happy/ If I had a boy I'd be good to my daddy/ Who loves you but I bet it's not the same/ As your north country boy'.

North Country Boy