The man upstairs

I found out yesterday that you died over the weekend. I started writing this in December, your funeral was today so thought it was time to publish it.

Of course, since publishing it I've made more edits as I've remembered other stuff.

Here were my immediate comments on your facebook page (from December 2021), and other memories from when we met in 2001...

Facebook post: Fuck! (you always hated it when i swore). But fuck. I'm just catching up on these messages in your timeline and I'm in shock. So sad. I'll always know you as the man upstairs because you lived in the flat above me in Rowan Court when I moved in over 20yrs ago. I remember you introduced me to Only Connect and i still play today. You introduced me to cherry tobacco rollies and I've never smoked that shit since. We shared some funny conversations (drunk and sober) and you always made me the most inappropriate Christmas cards - fucking hilarious, sometimes signed off as "Hair by Dave," wrote me poetry, made up the daftest jokes and i always enjoyed it when the clocks changed, "clocks go back tonight, TV goes back on Tuesday". You are a funny man, man upstairs. My world feels a little emptier knowing that you and your beautiful creative soul is no longer with us.

Rest in peace man upstairs. You were truly unique in every way.

1965-2021 (56yrs old).

"...you don't know what you've got Till it's gone..."

Since then I've read through our facebook message exchanges and facebook comments - we just connected, struck up conversation about nonsensical stuff, knew when we were playing straight and when we needed a pick-me-up with a silly accent, daft question or elaborate story.

We could go for weeks or months without contact and then when we did it was like we only spoke last week. You could sense when something was wrong, you listened and never judged. You were a good un.

You messaged me when you were going through a rough time, and accurately sensed when i was too. You sent your virtual hugs and I sent you mine.

You reminded me of something I said to you, that you held as a mantra "You're made of strong stuff, Mr Kelly" - and it's absolutely true.

You totally are, filled with passion, ideas, words, lyrics, brush strokes, shades, scribbles, shadows, love, and generosity. You always created with love, and for love. You were never half-arsed (sorry I swore again).

You told me the story about when you rang my old mobile number (i did send my new one, but you rang the old one), when it was picked up the conversation went like this..

You "hello"

Them "hello"

You "it's me"

Them "who?"

You "the man upstairs"

Them "who?"

You "it's the man upstairs, Phil"

Them "i'll just get my mum" - they go off....

You, now having realised that you've probably dialled the wrong number and it sounds a bit odd, had to try and explain to this girls mum that you were trying to contact me and that you'd dialled the wrong number, I think they threatened to call the police if you called back. We hadn't realised that my number would be so recycled so quickly.

When you told me, i thought it was hilarious, and we both had a chuckle about it.

I met you back in 2001, my landlord knew you and had told you to "keep an eye on me" you popped down to introduce yourself and i answered the door in a towel/dressing gown, you were really kind and friendly, and told me if i needed anything to ask. This was the start of a great friendship.

You showed me your paintings, there was one of a woman (in the foreground) looking up to a house at the top of a hill - it was beautiful, and another with a woman in the foreground, I kept telling you that the woman needed to be sat on a space hopper (because of her pose). You thought it was funny. You never did paint in the space hopper.

You introduced me to Keith, aka Uncle Ted aka Mr Egg and Chips.

And I met your friend John (Woody) who would join us to play University Challenge and Only Connect on Monday evenings. We would sing the theme tune to University Challenge in Scat.

You did impressions of David Mitchell and Michael Cane.

Your flat was a treasure trove of records, art, music, books, films, music systems, baseball caps. I remember the drawing of Michelle Pfeiffer on your wall. Everything had meaning and purpose.

You played Jazz, and Joni Mitchell, Joan Armatrading, Tony Bennett, The Beatles, Frank Zappa...

These songs remind me of you:

The Beatles, Blackbird https://open.spotify.com/track/5jgFfDIR6FR0gvlA56Nakr?si=KurqOnKKQjiPKLZzfyCEvQ&utm_source=copy-link

And Joan Armatrading, Love and Affection

https://open.spotify.com/track/4I1w0J6NA3M25jFZ5dhp6y?si=D3AwcYLHQfGPXQupgNVG-Q&utm_source=copy-link

You used to have your 3rd degree burns night party every year in January without fail, always made me feel welcome and part of the group.

We sometimes had conversations with each other in different accents, you did quite a good Scouse accent.

You bought me a bag from Macy's on one of your NY trips, and a grey scarf which I wore to your funeral. You loved NY and had stories of visiting Jazz clubs and meeting famous people.

I told you that your I heart NY stood for North Yorkshire.

I moved, got married, had kids. We still kept in touch and occasionally met up for drinks, The Trent, The Bodega, The Hotspur, The Forth, and way way back, in Dylans (the little bar under The Tyne Theatre).

You despised (with a passion) the British Royal family and all Tories and didn't care who knew.

You went to a reading from Douglas Coupland, and got me a book, got him to sign it, and gave it to me. You were thoughtful like that.

You gave me poetry and gave me your poetry.

You called me bonny lass and I called you Man Upstairs, or Mr Bydave (you would sign off card as "Hair By Dave"). Some of your friends called you Jack.

I went to Bridport and took a picture of a hairdresser called "Hair By Dave" and sent it to you.

I went to Barcelona and found a picture/postcard of Pablo Picasso and sent it to you.

You liked Kurt Vonnegut. I've never read his books. I might have to, to see what all the fuss was about.

You shared your blog with me, Fagin's Bidet (both versions) and My Strawberry Mind - but they're gone now i wish they were still there.

You were a free spirit, passionate, had morals, and were prepared to fight for them.

You weren't ready to sign off yet, your work here was not complete....You have art to finish, cigars to smoke, places to visit, songs to play, people to see, parties to host, jokes to write and share.

I'll miss your little messages, funny comments, bad jokes.

One of the last random jokes you sent me:

I woke up feeling funny today.

I replied, oh no sorry to hear that

You replied,

I went to bed in my clown costume.

Love you friend, and miss you always Man Upstairs x