I used to have a friend called 'Puffin'; in fact I wrote about him back in March of last year. He was a rather solitary figure, who worked in some area of The Arts; illustrator or photographer maybe.
He lived at the top of our road opposite the church, we would bump into each other quite regularly and chat. He had a nice house, a nice wife, and nice kids.
Then one day everything fell apart, and he began wandering around town looking lost and forlorn. We knew nothing of the reason for his new state of affairs, nor did we wish to. He took to alcohol, and became dishevelled and aimless. He once even asked me for £1, which I was happy to provide.
I would often see him wandering around town, presumably simply to keep moving. His ex-wife stayed in the family home, took a good new job in a well-known High Street store, and seemed to behave as if nothing had happened.
Meanwhile Puffin's other favourite activity was to ride around town on busses; he just stayed on them until they threw him off.
One day, on the No 7, he died. People thought he was asleep, so he went round and round the route until someone eventually realised what had happened.
Yes, poor old Puffin; he died on the No 7 bus, and no-one had noticed.
I came across this rustic wooden bench (above) in The Peace Park yesterday. At least someone was kind enough to remember him. I shall sit there one day, and leave some flowers. Lady Magnon saw recently that his house had been sold for nearly £1 million.
29 comments:
This is very sad. To be on a bus going round and round and nobody noticing. I wonder now what happened to make him leave his home and family.
I have no idea, it's not something one would ask. I expect he'd misbehaved in some way.
So much goes on without our knowing why. Sad about Puffin.
I wouldn't have asked him, either. I don't ask neighbours here about too much. Most, however, tell me things without asking. Maybe they tell me because they know I don't gossip.
Of course, had he wanted to share his woes I would have listened and tried to be of some comfort, but I certainly wouldn't have 'pried'.
Poor man …… who knows what had gone wrong …. It could have been all sorts of reasons. ‘ Life’s a bitch and then you die ‘ . XXXX
What on earth happened. A major breakdown and a sad ending. You need to get out with your paintbrush and smarten up his seat
That is a sad story but it was a thoughtful gesture for someone to commission that bench in his memory. Here's to Puffin.
They say we are all only a few steps ever from losing everything. Well maybe not if your retired and own your own house. I'm glad you found the bench, you can sit there and find peace.
A sad tale. I wonder how he acquired the nickname Puffin.
He was a nice person, but never very forthcoming, I didn't like to hear how it all ended.
His seat is sacred ground; I'd probably be lynched.
I expect it was his children who paid for it.
I'll sit and remember him. He was a nice guy until everything went wrong. I didn't see him much after that; I was away.
Not a Puffin-Billy, but a Puffin-Peter. Puffin suited him much more than Peter.
I hope it was his children who put the bench there. I hope that they saw him as a someone who lost his way instead of simply a 'bad' man.
Did he walk like Charlie Chaplin?
He was tall-ish and thick-set. He always wore black shoes with thick crepe soles.
I think it must have been them. I can't think of anyone else.
Sounds like some type of mental illness. Sad.
It is a very sad ending when a life falls apart and it seems nobody could help.
It's Hell getting old.
It certainly turned into an illness of that sort. Very sad to see.
I don't think he wanted anyone to help. He suffered in silence.
I'm not sure, but I think he must have been in his mid-50's when he died.
Very sad story Cro.
Born 1950 died 2005.
It is, but I imagine not that unusual.
Is that an estimate, or do you know something that I don't?
Taken from "Genes Reunited" website.
I am a burial clerk so relish looking at records.
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