This page is a collection of tributes from Edwin’s colleagues, family and friends. Contributors: Pete Buckland, Brian Croft, Charles Douthwaite, Alan Dunn, Moira Hunter Ross, Roy Lamb, Roger Law, Brian May, Graeme Miller, Linda and Roger Pope, Nansi Robinson, Seth Robinson, Shaun Robinson, Diane Shirley, Raph Shirley, Rebecca Shirley, Chris and Lucy Smith, Andy Tinneveld, Bob Winstanley, Patrick Woodroffe, Mick Worwood and Chris Wright. Please consider emailing a tribute to info @ edwinshirley.com or adding it as a comment at the bottom of the page.
On a personal level, Edwin was one of the kindest most generous positive and certainly most entertaining people anyone could wish for as a friend, I miss him dreadfully. His openness and generosity extended into his business life, where he was a great innovator, starting the first trucking company exclusively tailored to the needs of the touring world, the first European tour bus, the first European staging company, the first air freight company specialising in the needs of the music business, the Sandgate Hotel and Three Mills Studios.
Despite his many achievements, Edwin wasn’t really interested in material things or being wealthy, preferring to put money back into whatever he was doing or whatever the next project would be. My life and the entertainment industry are much poorer without him.
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He was a wonderful, charismatic person and leaves a hole in many people’s lives. He had not one jot of malice in him; nobody can recall him saying a bad word about another person – ever. He saw the best in everybody. I first met Edwin in the ‘60s when he was still at school and a member of the National Youth Theatre, of which I was Production Manager. He became an NYT stalwart; was a good actor and also became quite a star in undergraduate theatre at Cambridge. He subsequently came to work for me at my company, ESP Lighting, as a crew member on a Stones’ tour. This led to the formation of Edwin Shirley Trucking. We remained good friends all of our lives. He stayed a very good friend and practical supporter of the NYT right up till the end. He was a vibrant, enthusiastic entrepreneur who is a great loss to showbiz.
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Edwin, the man I loved and admired for over 40 years is best summed up by this quote from the ‘English’ poet,
“I expect to pass through life but once.
If, therefore there be any kindness that
I can show or any good thing I can do
to any fellow being, let me do it now,
for I shall not pass this way again” William Penn 1644-1718
R.I.P. dear Edwin.
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I first met Edwin in his office at the back of the Nissan hut at Crows Road in 1979 where he worked with Denise. I was for many years both Company Manager and Tour manager for the Royal Shakespeare Company and Edwin did all my tours around the Uk and Europe and Shirley’s Yard and „the Village“ became a large part of my life.The drivers became part of the company. Venues that were in obscure places could always be found by the colours of the trucks parked up. I always knew that no matter where we were if we had a problem it would be solved.
Edwin would give me tickets or passes to concerts and he and Tim would take me out for lunch to win me over as I obviously had to put the trucking out to tender.
He’d pop out to see us all on tour and when I was in town I’d give him a backstage tour at the Barbican or some other venue if I knew someone there.
I remember him once ringing me up and wanting to have a serious talk as he was thinking of changing career going into acting.
Edwin would give me tickets to a concert if I’d check something out for him. The tours that i managed around the UK had a travelling auditorium. When Edwin was considering going into the seating as well as the staging business he sent me tickets to a Barry Manilow concert (not really my taste) at Blenheim so that I could report back to him on the Grandstand seating.
When I left the theatre and went travelling around north America, I don’t think he quite forgave me, because I’d been a connection with a world he loved.
Edwin and „The Captain „ took me out for lunch before I went and gave me all sorts of tips, addresses and recommendations of places to go to when I travelled.
I had many adventures on my travels.
I stayed with Edwin’s old friend Robert from his University days in LA for a couple of nights, had a brilliantly mad time San Francisco with a camera lady called Susan and got tickets for Michael Jackson’s Victory tour in Toronto all thanks to Edwin. Everywhere I went people had piles of Calendars stashed in their toilets that Edwin had sent them to sell.
I think he’d even wanted me to take some with him. It never quite made the Pirelli status.
When I returned I met my now husband Sam and started working in corporate events. I still saw Edwin and he still gave us tickets to gigs. Sam lived near Hurst green in East Sussex at the time and we came over to Cranbrook for lunch at the pub with you all (Raph was a baby). Edwin was a really good friend to me and when my house was burgled and my car was stolen and burnt out he lent me an old Peugeot. There was no end to his kindness and generosity.
When my daughter was born Edwin took me out for lunch and gave her an Edwin Shirley truck which we still have somewhere.
Then the yard strangely once again became part of my life as my husband started a new business and this was sited at Crow’s Road for several years. Then Sam relocated to Shepperton, we moved to Brighton and I had a second child so to my great regret we lost touch. When I went back to work as I spoke German and French most of my work was in Europe and Sam was always away on the Olympics etc. and so time just ran away.
Edwin was a big part of my life. He was larger than life and I remember all those years with great affection and laughter.
There are many tales to tell.
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In the words of Bryan Adams, ‘it was the summer of ‘69’ when a fresh -faced Roy joined the National Youth Theatre to seek fame and fortune. Little did I realise how my life would unfold when I met a Spear Carrier in Coriolanus named Edwin Shirley. We immediately hit it off, and proceeded through the next 20 years on a rollercoaster of amazing expreriences in this incredible industry, with Edwin ranging from Special Effects Co-ordinator on the Rolling Stones’ 1972 tour to organising mud-wrestling parties at Knebworth for Queen.
He was an amazing character, the eternal optimist, and I can safely say we never had a dull moment. The trucking company was established in 1973 after we both worked on the Stones’ tour of Europe, and decided ‘we can do this better‘ – the rest is history.
Through the ‘70s and ‘80s the purple and yellow EST trucks became a legend, with Edwin’s sales acumen and humour ensuring that the wheels never stopped turning. His charisma was always the driving force behind our expansion, but I must say that on occasion I had to try and reign him in – a very difficult task as anyone who knew him would appreciate! I am proud and priviliged to have known and worked with him over the formative years of rock touring, and he will be sorely missed by his myriad of friends in the industry. Farewell my old friend, see you on the other side.
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Spitting Image, the satirical puppet show, was my company based in London’s East End. Further east in the early ‘90s Edwin Shirley moved into a derelict collection of moated Georgian warehouses serving three old gin mills. The moat, I understood, was originally to keep the Cockneys away from the gin.
Edwin and a small band of determined helpers turned the site into film and television studios – Three Mills Island Studios. Inevitably Spitting Image found their way to Three Mills and Edwin and I did a number of projects together. I quickly realised that Edwin was a one-off, like no-one else I’d ever met. And I have met a lot of people.
In another life Edwin had started The Edwin Shirley Trucking Company – “you rock, we roll”. Setting up heavy rock concerts had impared Edwin’s hearing. Consequently he thought you had the same problem and spoke at full volume. Edwin was loud. So were his letters that I received during the time I lived in Australia, a maximum of a sentence per page in large script.
Edwin Shirley was never about money; always about ideas and facilitating them. A creative, life-enhancing man and I, and many others, adored him and will miss him.
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Most of you guys will not know Edwin’s name. He didn’t become a rock star or a politician or billionaire. But he was a gentle giant in his chosen profession – Trucking. Edwin was at the head of Queen’s vehicle convoy for so many years I can’t begin to remember how many. He was a rock in his own way – the job always got done, and in a way which pleased everyone. He was a great pal of Gerry Stickells, our illustrious Tour Manager and the two of them wrote the book on how to party on tour. How to work hard, play hard, and treat everyone with decency and respect. I’m so sad to hear Edwin has passed on today. As Jacky has said, we can all hope he finds Freddie in the mood to celebrate up there. A good life. A good man.Sincere condolences to Edwin’s family. God speed ya.
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From the toe of Italy to the Hook of Holland the Edwin Shirley map of Europe is highlit with the best places to buy fine cheeses and good local wines, with small family-run hotels and cheap diesel. For me it’s a map of how to live – of how to make carrying stuff (in the widest sense) not a burden, but an art. I was lucky enough to have met Edwin as the mover of choice whose beaming arrival with my kit would offer up the chance to spend a few days of schmoozing, dining and storytelling. I feel privileged to have been part of the Edwin’s Mercedes Sprinter period – a re-invention of art moving that was as far from the po-faced, air-sprung, humourless couriers of gallery art as you could imagine. These were gentle effective logistics and part of the art itself. Stupidly I feel cheated of future mini-breaks with Edwin. I can only guess the heartbreak his nearest and dearest can be feeling at losing the person they have know for so long. I am staggered by how much I miss this person I have overlapped with only recently and can only guess that’s to do with seeing in Edwin an example of how to go about things. I drove some of my work in one of Edwin’s vans to Paris and while checking the load on the Périphérique the back door blew shut and in the dark I had a bit of time to consider life and death. When a young Algerian man finally answered my banging and opened the door, the light, noise and fumes of Paris smelt like Chanel. There is something to be said for living life with your nose glued to the view ahead maximizing on the stops en route and making them as rich and gracious and convivial as possible, giving the least grief and the most grace to others as you do. Between chaos and order we each choose a recipe. Edwin, I think, wrote a great cookbook. I raise a glass of reasonably priced good local wine to the ethos Edwin embodied of how to live well pragmatically and poetically, with modesty and largesse. To dear lovely Edwin… Santé. Thanks.
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My early memories of Edwin are from the 1970s, when we used to stay with his family in Kent. I remember being fascinated by a huge, American video cassette player, eating my first Indian takeaway meal, and driving their golf buggy around the grounds of their fabulous rock-star’s house.
He was generous and loud – a very cool uncle. We grew older and he got us tickets to see Queen and Michael Jackson in concert, and sent us Tour T-shirts and miniature EST trucks. He was well known by our friends back home in Wales, even though they’d never met him.
Over the last few years, when Edwin was visiting Emma, Sarah and Dan’s house in the Charente Limousine in France, we saw much more of him, getting to know him quite well. He stayed with us at our house nearby a few times and one particular evening stands out…
I was over with a friend, Justin, who had never met Edwin, so I braced him for the arrival of a high-decibel whirlwind of talk, laughter, eating and drinking. Edwin turned up wearing his Hawaiian EST shirt, having driven his Mercedes Vito (containing some bizarre modern art involving aircraft seats) all the way from Sicily. The journey seemed to have made him more animated and louder than normal, and he was carrying a plastic jerry can full of Chianti. Within 5 minutes he had persuaded Justin to re-arrange the furniture in his bedroom, fix his broken mobile phone and explain, in great detail, what type of aircraft the seats from Sicily had come from.
He then took full control of the barbeque, cooking all the steaks beautifully.
After we’d put away about a gallon of the Chianti (cheap, but fantastic quality), Edwin told me how he’d been thumbing through a glossy men’s magazine – FHM or GQ, and had come across a piece about one of Freddy Mercury’s parties. This particular one, in Ibiza, sounded truly extra-ordinary with all manner of nefarious activities going on. After describing the scenes, he turned around, wide-eyed, and said:
– “as I was reading it, I remembered!! – I was THERE!!”
Apparently Freddy often had an entourage of minor European Royalty at these events. One of whom, a Countess, from Liechtenstein (?) had asked Edwin for a dance. He agreed, and started “waltzing”’ her around the swimming pool until, after getting bored of it all, he waltzed her into the pool. She was drenched and furious and demanded that he be thrown out! The commotion attracted Freddy himself who came over to see what was going on.
Upon hearing that the security guards were about to evict him, Freddy just said:
“You can’t throw him out, – thats Edwin !!”
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Edwin meant good times, having a laugh… A bit of fun. He was a wine quaffing, rabble rousing, hawaiin shirt wearing, big fat party animal. Always looking for fun and games right to the very end; cracking jokes in Chemo, and convinced that the culture and bureaucracy surrounding cancer was funny. And the sheer hardiness. I mean, I’m 28 and he was 64 and on chemotherapy drugs and he had a bigger appetite for socialising and merry making than I do.
A few weeks ago, we’d been out for a few drinks. We get on the bus to come home and Edwin reaches in his pocket for his freedom pass. Presses it against the reader and the man goes You haven’t got any credit on your Oyster card and Edwin says its a freedom pass I don’t need any credit. And he looks down in his hand and hes trying to use his anti-diarrhoea pills. We had a good laugh about that. In fact he never stopped laughing and never moped about or felt sorry for himself.
One of the first things Edwin said to the paramedic was have you got my lottery tickets. At which point he made my sister fish around in the bin for them. The night before he died, Edwin was making notes on business ideas and plans. One of the things he wrote down was a joke. And he said here Raph I’ve thought of joke. And I’ll read it out verbatim: the nurse says to the paramedic ‘Why did you throw his lottery ticket away’. And the paramedic says’ I thought perhaps his number had come up’. It reminded me of Oscar Wilde’s apocryphal final line ‘either the drapes go or I do’’. I make this comparison because Edwin, he was a joker, but don’t underestimate the fool. Because what is a sense of humour but a sense of perspective, and the fact that Edwin kept his wit and humour to the end, says something about his intelligence and wisdom.
It’s impossible to talk about the last ten years of Edwin’s life without talking about the death of my sister Rachael, which had a profound and irreversible effect on Edwin. I think out of all us Rachael was the most similar to Edwin. Stubborn and difficult, but loyal and positive.
He was also my boss of course. And lets not descend into hagiography here. Lets not commit a whitewash, because he could be a belligerent, irritating, patronising, vain, grumpy old git. He was, literally bossy. Too loud! There’s no need to be that loud. a review for one of his university plays began ‘And weighing with the most decibels…’. All these things but I had a lot of fun working with him.
I don’t think I’ve known anyone who more truly rose to Rudyard Kipling’s challenge in the poem If ‘if you can meet with Triumph and Disaster And treat those two impostors just the same’ That’s something everyone who knew him says’ It didn’t matter if his pockets were empty or full, he was always generous. It didn’t matter if he was in the midst of a glorious success or a terrible tragedy, he was always kind. I remember I went on holiday to Milan with him, and he took as much cash out of his bank account as he could, being sure to get to the bank quick because he knew he’d given some cheques out. and the first 7 days we lived it up in expensive hotels and lavish meals, Filet steak and the finest chianti, foie gras, and champagne. And then on the last day he suddenly realised he’d totally run out of money, and we had to downgrade to a youth hostel, which was fine you know, he managed to blag some wine, but the next day and I remember him putting his hand in his pocket and pulling out a few coins and he realised he had just enough for that day’s food to spend on one truffle which we shared out.
To conclude I think the best word to describe Edwin, is a word that he used every day. A word that I can’t hear without thinking of Edwin. The word I’m talking about is fabulous. Edwin was fabulous. I’m grateful for every day I spent with him, and I’ll miss him for the rest of my life.
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One of many memories I have of Edwin is of the period in the early 70’s when we were members of the National Youth Theatre together. The NYT took a production of Zigger Zagger to Amsterdam and I was the tour production manager. Edwin was in the cast. One of the main characters was sick so the understudy had to go on and for some reason Michael Croft, the director, thought it would be a good idea for me to go on before the play started and explain that an understudy would be doing that performance. Most Dutch speak excellent English but Croft thought it would be a good idea if I made the announcement in Dutch! As Edwin spoke German, which is similar to Dutch, he coached me in making the announcement. I had no idea if Edwin was actually teaching me the words to explain the appearance of the understudy or schooling me in making an obscene statement either way my halting delivery was received with a round of applause!
Later the National Youth Theatre launched its professional company at the Shaw Theatre in Euston Road. For reasons I can’t recall – perhaps as ‘graduates’ of the NYT they auditioned? – the original stage door keepers a the Shaw were Ken Macdonald (remember him as the barman in Only Fools & Horses and Gunner Nobby Clark in Ain’t Half Hot here Mum) and Edwin.
What a welcome actors, actresses and staff got on their arrival at the Shaw stage door. Both Ken and Edwin were larger than life characters and met all comers, from the humblest stage hand to some mega stars of stage and screen who worked there, with endless quips and jokes. What a double act but I am not sure they would have won any awards for security though and some of the local characters from the Euston/Kings Cross area they entertained ‘after hours’ were interesting to say the least!
It was from the Shaw that Brian Croft and Roy Lamb headed off on the rock and roll road to be almost literally followed by Edwin with an old 3 ton truck – an ex bread or electricity board van or was that Toffo? – to supply the transport. As ESP Lighting grew and the scale of the shows got bigger so too did Edwin’s vehicle fleet and the first branded trucks hit the road. From small acorns…..
I followed Brian Croft working for him and John Brown at ESP and can vividly remember EST trucks – sometimes several of them – pulled up in Glasshill Street being loaded for tours and one off shows. Sometimes I had to phone up Clint asking where the trucks were as EST were always juggling their fleet and customers as they expanded!
On my final job with ESP – the Stones shows at Earl’s Court in ‘76 – I think we had five trucks to get out the stage and equipment. It took several nights and days and by the time we had moved out the Stones had moved on and played their next dates in Europe!
At one time we lived near to Edwin and Diane in Kent and I can remember going to them for a meal – I think we had rabbit casserole from Edwin’s ‘country estate’ and copious wine to wash it down of course.
On the way home we were stopped by the police and when they asked who owned the car my wife as driving, she replied Avis. Perhaps realising we had been recipients of Shirley hospitality they escorted us home. You wouldn’t get that today nor will we see Edwin’s like again. I fondly remember his larger than life personality, his grin and laugh and the sheer sense of energy and enjoyment he bought to everything and everyone. I regret not staying in touch because Edwin was truly a legend in his own lunch time and the world is a poorer place without him. Chris (& Lucy) Smith
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‘All the best tales gain by exaggeration’
Mrs Shirley while driving the farm van saw Edwin’s motorcycle squashed flat in the road. She drove home to contact the police, fearing that Edwin had suffered a road accident. When she got home, there was Edwin. He explained that he’d fallen off the bike and that it had been squashed flat by a steam roller coming the other way. Obviously the bike wouldn’t go, so he’d left it there.
Manor Farm had a herd of Jersey milking cows. To promote the sale of dairy products directly from Manor Farm, Edwin created and displayed on the road an advertising board which read ‘You can’t beat our milk, but you can whip our cream.’
Edwin was paired with a female student from Germany (‘Beata’?) in his school foreign language exchange because the German school read his name as ‘Shirley Edwin’ rather than ‘Edwin Shirley’. History does not record whose error this was.
When Edwin arrived in Germany to spend time with Beata’s family it turned out that Beata’s mother was a wealthy lady who had been recently divorced and was embarking on a new relationship of her own. She did not wish to spend her summer holiday supervising her attractive 17 year old daughter or entertaining her daughter’s 17 year old visitor from England. Mother solved her problem by giving Edwin and Beata the keys to a Mercedes Benz and a fistful of Deutchmarks and inviting them to amuse themselves.
When he first arrived at Cambridge, on the recommendation of Peter West, Edwin had the considerable distinction of being asked to attend a freshers’ trial for the University rugby XV. Edwin had already decided that he was more interested in acting rather than rugby but he did attend the trial. That he was not selected probably had as much to do with the fact that he didn’t have any rugby boots as anything else.
In one university long vacation Edwin visited Germany driving a Wolsey Hornett car of considerable age. The car broke down. Edwin pushed the car to the side of the road. He abandoned it with a notice stuck to it offering to accept 10,000 Deutchmarks or an alternative car for the Wolsey Hornett. The Wolsey Hornett was an interesting looking veteran British sports saloon. Someone rang the telephone number Edwin had left on the notice offering to swop his Mercedes Benz for the Wolsey Hornett. The deal was done and this is how Edwin, one of the more impecunious of students at Cambridge, became the owner of a Mercedes Benz.
Edwin’s father had first use of the Mercedes Benz to move items such as bales of hay around Manor Farm. So, when the Mercedes made its first appearance at Cambridge it was not in pristine condition. There was a fair amount of hay inside and a good deal of farm muck outside. It had a front bench seat and column gear change so it could easily take 6, 3 in the front and 3 in the back. Still, the only other undergraduate who we knew who had a Mercedes Benz was Arthur Frederick Rank Packard of Fitzwilliam College (who when asked why he didn’t go into the family business after he left Cambridge was reported to have said ‘Because I didn’t want to rise through the Ranks.’
A mature student, Robin White, who had obtained his first degree at Dundee University asked Edwin to a party in Dundee. Edwin thought it would be fun to go a party in Dundee so off we went to this party in Dundee from Cambridge, 6 of us in the Mercedes Benz.
After the Mercedes, Edwin acquired a Matchless 500 twin of about 1958 vintage for £10 including the full tank of petrol ( a bike easily identifiable from a photograph from its unique distinctive double front pilot lights set on and either side of the headlight.) Edwin’s Matchless had drop handle bars that were set so close to the tank that there was very little turn either way in the bars. To get the Matchless to go round a corner it had to be leant over on its side. Also the bike had virtually no clutch. When coming to a halt the gear pedal had to be kicked into neutral which was between 1st and 2nd gear otherwise the bike would stall.
Once on a visit to point to point horse racing outside Cambridge bikes were swopped for the return journey. Edwin rode Bob W’s Norton 500 single and Bob W rode the Matchless. As they were leaving the heavily police controlled exit some young girls in St John’s Ambulance uniform jumped in front of the Matchless with an open blanket seeking a charitable donation. Of course, the Matchless stalled. Two hefty policemen promptly gave it a push with Bob W on it to bump start it. Happily the engine fired and away they rode. The bike may have been insured and MOT’d but you could never be sure.
While we were at Cambridge, at the end of each summer term 4 or 5 of us together together with any girl friends drove to Kent to stay at Manor Farm for a long week end. (Follow the A21 and turn left onto the A261 just past the AA box. Everyone was allowed to sleep with their girlfriend except Edwin.
We learnt something about farming. Mrs Shirley explained that the only economical thing to do with the male jersey calves born to the farm’s herd was to slaughter them for their veal. She explained that she kept the heads to make brawn and demonstrated by opening the double doors of a fridge to display 6 calves’ heads in a row on the top shelf.
In one of the farm sheds was a 1948 Lanchester saloon car which Mrs Gates, Mrs Shirley’s mother had purchased new. The car had an early form of automatic gear selection and wire brakes. It also had just 1200 miles on the clock.
Meals could be fun. On one of these end of term weekends we were to have Sunday lunch. At the last minute it was realised that the Aga had gone out! So we had the strawberries and cream, then cheese and finally at about 5pm in our back to front lunch, the roast joint.
One Saturday evening we went to the Mermaid Hotel in Rye for supper. When we arrived it was obvious that the hotel staff had not expected a party of l0 long haired rather scruffy students to have made a booking at their up market establishment. We were, however, made welcome as Edwin was recognised as the person who supplied cream to the Hotel.
And so on………
‘Absolutely 0% guaranteed accurate’
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To all of his friends and colleagues Edwin was an enormous character, full of fun, wit and energy, a forward thinker and free thinker, and an icon and legend in our business. He was also the very first person to run a trucking company and then a staging company and he did both of these things with style and panache and good humour, even as the business become more serious and looked to the bottom line. He was a huge influence on all of us and we miss him already, even as we cannot help but smile as we remember him.
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WHO ELSE BUT……..EDWIN SHIRLEY
I wanted to share a couple of stories that might raise a smile or two………………………..
Edwin, Del, Roy and myself were the original founders of Rock-it back in in 1978. My recollection is that Del should get the credit for putting us all together in the first place.
My very first job was something that Edwin gave me as a lead from one of EST’s trucking clients. It was my very first experience of the “real” world. I had to go and see this guy after hours one evening and deliver some shipping papers to him. When I arrived at his house, I was invited in and shown to his living room. On the table there was a large amount of “White Powder”. There was a knock at the door and the guy went to answer the door. I sat there for about 5 minutes and he didn’t come back and so I sat there for another 10 minutes – he still didn’t return. After about 20 minutes I became somewhat worried and started calling out his name but no reply, so I went looking. The guy had disappeared without a trace and left the front door wide open. As I left, closing the door behind me, I began cursing Edwin wondering what on earth had happened and why me? I later found out that the Police had called at the house to arrest the guy for unpaid parking fines because he had been evading them for very many months. What you might call a close shave.
Finally, in the early days of operations, United Airlines offered me a First Class ticket on an inaugural flight to New York. I couldn’t go but I offered the ticket to Edwin, who was more than happy to accept, especially as there was a reception and a return ticket too. Well it turns out that Edwin had been enjoying the full range of hospitality of the pre-boarding reception before eventually boarding the flight. Unfortunately, when he got to his seat in First Class, there was somebody already sitting there and he proceeded to ask him to leave and move somewhere else.
Needless to say, there was a minor disagreement but no violence and the occupier of his seat remained defiant and would not move elsewhere in the cabin. Edwin chose the path of least resistance and meandered to another seat in First Class. Seeing that Edwin was now settled, the cabin attendant attended to his needs and took his jacket to hang up in the wardrobe and in doing so asked for his boarding pass.
“Sir, I’m terribly sorry but you’re on the wrong flight, we’re going to Boston” –
“Yikes” or words to that effect cried Edwin and he departed with great haste to find the right flight to New York. I think he called it a very sobering experience.
I have no idea how this would have been possible except it was at a time when security was nowhere near as tight as it is now and I suspect the sight of a truly ebullient Edwin boarding a flight was enough to convince any unsuspecting attendant, that all was well.
Edwin – you will be missed.
Good luck with your next venture, wherever that may be,
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