The Adrian Archive

The first building block of Adrian was food. I'm sure everyone here has been fed by him, whether an elaborate multi-course feast, or a comforting slice of toast and a cuppa. He refused to call himself a chef but the kitchen was his kingdom, and cooking his playground. He was at so many big moments in my life because he was catering them: making a youth hostel feel like home for teachers from across Europe, feeding 18 young circus performers on a £4 a head budget out of Dingwall Tesco, or keeping puppeteers warm during the Beast from the East blizzard in Sherwood Forest.

I don't have written-down recipes because he didn't do that. It was all feel. A glug, a slurp, a slosh. He maintained that the really important thing was a well-marinated cook. For him food was hospitality, was taking care of people. Except for once on his birthday. The rule was everyone in the family has to eat what you pick. He made Langoustine broth and brought my bowl first so he could sit at my feet and gleefully watch me being squeamish about pulling the heads off.

Because my dad was a menace. Stories and mischief go together because he’d so many tales to tell. My brother and I wonder how he fit all in. A classic Adrian story would involve a dramatic setup, cast of exotic characters, including occasional celebrities, and a minor-to-major criminal offence. It amazes me the only thing he went to jail for was being too poor to pay council tax.

Please tell me and each other stories about him because in them he’ll live on. When telling my friends he'd gone, they said: “his advice to try everything once except heroin stood us in really good stead” and “he tried to teach her to smoke at 16 so that she could hold a cigarette properly in a play” and “he taught me how to intimidate someone using only my eyes, it has come in surprisingly useful”. He truly lived his favourite motto: “if you can't be a good example, be a terrible, terrible warning”.

Kindness was a building block. Another phrase I heard often, when telling people he’d gone, was “he did so much for me”. He cared ferociously. He and Chrissy shared a total lack of judgement and an urge toward kindness that made them safe harbours if you were in trouble, crisis, or just having a bad day. His close friend John said “we’ve all lost a person you could call about literally anything”. You can imagine him saying “you'll be reet” when you next feel down.

He wasn't great at most normal dad things: terrible at calling, birthdays, boundaries, food on the table, or clean clothes. Stress could make him fold up, freeze and beat himself up about it. He didn't teach, though he would explain things to death, and he demonstrated some good ways to live.=

Tenacity is included because he rose to many challenges. He pushed through being a single dad, bankruptcy, depression, and decades of undiagnosed autism. He only played by the rules when he felt like it. He shaped me, my siblings, my friends and many others by showing us you can live out loud and unashamed. One of my friend described it as his “joy and fuck-it-be-yourself-ness”. He showed us how to find and cherish delight. Someone has to show you these things, so you don't take it all too seriously.

He demonstrated that when you love something, you work your arse off for it. I get my tendency to pull long shifts from him and to say yes to a job, then learn how to do it before the first day. He was always learning. He had not so much a career as a game of hopscotch, working as park-ranger, microtechnology importer, massage-therapist, truck-driver, builder, cook, solar-panel installer, and the most niche, Princess Diana Memorial Beanie Baby buyer. That was before his endless interests like herbalism, home brewing, hydroponics. All put to good use, sometimes for the same party.

The fifth building block is joy, (music). He was so much fun that I can't be the only person who’s pulled a muscle trying to outdance him. (B52's played Love Shack live in Manchester and in my defence we were in the aisle and there were lots of stairs.) He loved blues, jazz, funk, punk, and rock-and-roll. Music for celebrating, grieving, washing your troubles away. Like food, music was for bringing people together. Like kindness, music was for healing.

He sent me new tunes he'd discovered right till the end. I’ve added them to the weird and wonderful songs I’ll always associate with him, by Frank Zappa, Ian Dury, Tom Waits, Four Tops, The Bonzo Dog Doo Da Band and, of course, soundtracks to the Blues Brothers, Rocky Horror Show, and Priscilla, Queen of The Desert. No straight man ever loved drag queens more. He'd come home from driving lorries, or building houses, and we'd watch the Priscilla montage nightly till we wore the tape out. He loved their beauty, joy and outrageous fashion. I think most of all he loved people having a good time, whether a queer in a sky-high headdress, a toddler having a boogie, or his true victory, a committed carnivore coming back for seconds of his vegan curry.

It’s an honour to be a custodian of his stories, generosity, humour, stubbornness, and curiosity. I miss him very much, and I know wherever he is, he's definitely dancing.

Hi Adrian
My dear old buddy, Adrian, I really toyed with the idea of writing you a letter to say all this to you directly while you were still with us. As I knew I would be saying on this day, the day that was relentlessly coming - charging round the corner despite everything - despite the shock, the suddenness, the look on the bright side, the life saver soup, the chemo, the bloody white board, the voice to texting... The journey was just grinding to a close and my head was filled with thoughts of you and how much I will miss you over the years.. I didn't write because it felt too maudlin and the sort of thing that would make you feel it really was all over, so I didn't. You won't hear or read these words but I bloody hope you knew it all by heart!

I loved Adrian from the moment I met him at Bradford Uni in 1978! I had all the usual doubts about being at Uni and feeling out of place unprepared and had a bad dose of "you haven't got an inferiority complex - you are inferior!". I had even started to read the precourse bibliography and get up for lectures... I was pretty desperate. Within 10 minutes of meeting Adrian (who's hair was green at the time for the part of an alien in a show) I realised I was safe! And "Wow this is actually going to be fun!" It had not occurred to me that we were actually free! I adored Adrian's cheerful irreverence - Rules were there to be for the common good and if they weren't then could be broken or at least circumvented and if all else failed just ignored! Although this didn't always have a good outcome the ride was usually fun! We had the privilege to dance all night and as we once did we had the wit to stay up all night with our friends reading The Owl service out loud to each other, pausing only for Adrian's homemade chips at 2am! And I even wrote the odd essay... Adrian was the best of friends he could make me laugh, really laugh (one of a very elite group!) - he was a complete idiot but no fool.

I lived with Adrian and Kerry and a growing Phyllis in utero. They were in the theatre group and both very talented - Adrian could do anything and could act consummately but I think stage craft is where he excelled he could make and fix anything! Time passed children were born and everybody moved and much changed but not Adrian. He used his talents to become a wonderful father, carer, nurturer (auto correct has been replacing nurturer with nutter!) and clown! He loved all his children; Lenny and Phyllis and the ripples spread outwards... ABI and Adrian had Ben and Jason joined the gang. Kerry and Mark had Thomas and I had Oscar, Helen and Kevin had Bruce...all these growing people experienced the comfort, joy and mischief of being in Adrian's sphere. My Oscar was food phobic at home with me but once sat at Adrian's teatime table he would eat the lot! I used to ask Adrian if we could to come to tea just so I'd know Oscar would get a meal! Leila and Sami were born and Marwan was in Gaza when Sami was due so Adrian was with me, joining Helen as my birthing partners. Adrian had the unfettered pleasure of saying "oh I'm not the father!" when being consulted about the baby - he was quite proud that he had actually attended more births by then than the junior Dr on call that night.

Recently in the Adrian Farewell WhatsApp group we tentatively agreed he was not a saint and over the years I was aware of demons that remained unslayed. For me as his friend this caused some concerns and I worried about him and but this will have been a different story for his children and dependants.

I am lucky to have loved Adrian warts and all, he added so much to my life and my family life. He and my Mum n Dad Pat n Pat loved each other and remained life long mutual admirers. Adrian and Patrick were cut from the same cloth I had a similar feeling about both - utterly good hearted gentlemen (I heard the same phrases said of them " he's a lovely gentleman" or a "lovely man") Although both shared the uncanny essence of being a thinly disguised 11 year old boy! Chrissy reminded me of Patricia, my Mum too and I am so glad they found each other.

So Adrian my dearest beloved friend I can only thank you for everything, you had the ability to make me feel whatever was going on, that everything was probably going to be alright and if not, there is probably s*d all you can do about it so you may as well seize the day!

Adrian was a grown up in the true sense that a recent animation espoused: Mole to boy - what do you want to be when you grow up? Boy to mole: kind.
Adrian was always kind; he couldn't always help, though he often did, he couldn't always be there, though he often was and he may have wanted more from me but he never said.

I will be raising a glass to that great fantasy pub garden in the sky where Adrian and Chrissy are settling into the next round with Pat n Pat and dear Jan, maybe Mark is tuning up his violin quietly nearby - well until I get my own last orders, when the drinks will be on me! Echi Da Adrian

A huge part of Adrian’s life was Chrissy, who he met over 25 years ago, after coming to Rachael’s rescue following problems with her house renovation. Adrian, a self-taught builder, plasterer, plumber and electrician, had been working for Rachael’s uncle in the building trade and gladly stepped in to
help. Chrissy, just happened to be there and the two of them ‘hit it off’ and formed a friendship which over time, became a loving relationship. Adrian would remind Rachael, (in his words) “I adopted you before your Mum”.

Adrian and Chrissy, shared a common love of food and cooking, which gave them the idea to open a small business together and so ‘Cabin Café’ on Baildon Moor was born. They formed great relationships with residents, passers-by and tourists alike. They also kept a close eye on some of the
elderly on-site residents, becoming somewhat of a meals on wheels for them! But that was Adrian…always acutely aware of others needs and always keen to help.

Another outlet for Adrian’s culinary skills was, ‘Groovy Happening’ a monthly event in Haworth which brought people together over food and live music to raise money for charity – back then, it was for Manorlands Hospice. Adrian was proudly involved from the start and would cook the food for the whole event with Chrissy helping him serve it throughout the evening. It was a great way for people to taste his food and try out some of his creative ‘vegan’ recipes. When his shift was over, he and Chrissy would be up singing and dancing and having a brilliant time whilst listening to the live bands. Adrian loved those events because they combined so much of what he was passionate about; great food, music, joy, laughter, community and ‘giving something back’.

Sadly, Chrissy, passed away in June of last year, with Adrian becoming her fulltime carer during her final year. Adrian’s love, support and absolute devotion made it possible for Chrissy to remain at home.