I’m remembering Deb and a drunken spaghetti cooking incident round at York Road. An early memory of her gleefully flicking strands of spaghetti all over the kitchen wall after I'd mentioned that's how Italians check their pasta is done. Keen to try this new cooking technique, pasta throwing mayhem and uncontrollable giggling of course ensued. I assume Pete must have asked in the morning why the **** spaghetti was ALL over his kitchen wall, and imagine Deb, with her serious voice, replying that "Brendan told me to do it."    

Many, many fun memories in different houses, vans, tents and stages of life followed. Deb was always one of the most sparkling, funny and downright mischievous people in the room, and she knew how to make people feel special and part of the fun. 

She was kind and considerate too, often asking after friends and family or advising me on the joys of the corporate world.

Time moved on and lives drifted apart, but we did speak during her illness when I called to cancel a gig with Pete because of a bad back. It was then I heard that lovely Chiseldon voice of hers, one last time. “Oh you poor thing” she said.  


I’ll never forget you Deb you were a bright light in a world that is less without you.  


Much love,
Brendan.