Charlie Powell RiP

Charlie was buried two days ago. Thirty two years old. Known him since he was 14. Strange thing the memory - all little images have come flooding back. Sitting on his bed with Clare (his sister) giggling at who knows what, being chased around the garden by Charlie with a hosepipe at Christmas, drinking vodka and throwing up and cleaning up the sick, with all his mates in Sheringham, his struggle with drink and drugs, still loved him even though he once called me a c+nt, food fights in his mum's kitchen, always laughing. What a tragic end to a life half-lived.