Roger, my oldest, best and dearest friend
by Robin Franklin

I first met Roger, my old mate,
Back in nineteen forty-eight;
On a bus, or so I’m told,
When we were both just four years old.
I think we got on well because -
Unusual was what Roger was.

He lived in Hillview Road, Hatch End;
Just down the street - and round the bend,
About ten minutes walk away.
So round each other’s house we’d play,
And he would make Meccano cranes,
And powered model boats and planes.

Then Roger’s parents moved to Goring,
A whole new place to start exploring.
Out on our bikes ‘til it was dark;
Smoke crafty ciggies in the park.
Then back indoors for tea and Telly;
Sandwiches and raspberry jelly.

Now silly words were Roger’s thing;
His favourite made-up word was “Ning”;
Now you may think that’s so much twaddle;
Pliers, plink-plonks - oil was oddle.
That’s Roger’s style - you just can’t knock it.
A gangbang’s his extension socket

In nineteen fifty-eight, I reckon,
A holiday in Llanfairfechan.
And being in our early teens,
We played on all the slot machines.
But Rog knew several tricks, which meant
We never ever paid a cent.

Then with Roger’s brother, Pete,
We took our boats just down the street
And past the promenade beyond
To where there was a boating pond.
Pete’s boat was fast, he thought he’d win;
He laughed so much he fell right in.
(I’m sure Mrs Wadeson thought we’d pushed him in)

Now Roger was a Shadows fan;
For him, Hank Marvin was “The Man”
So he devoted all his savings
To gratify his guitar cravings,
And lots of practice helped him master
His new Fender Stratocaster.

But Rog could not afford to buy a
Genuine Vox amplifier.
And though it may seem slightly soppy,
Rog thought he’d build himself a copy.
He’d got the valves, the cabinet,
But one part he just could not get.

So with another input socket,
Hidden in his trouser pocket,
He went into a music shop
And there he slyly made a swop.
As Roger stated, with a grin,
Well - fair exchange is not a sin.

The amp looked good but sounded flat.
But Roger could improve on that.
He made himself an echo thing
With two transducers and a spring.
And then he built a box of tricks
With seven playback heads - not six.

I went my way; Rog went his,
Becoming a computer whiz.
Then one year we thought we’d go
Off camping for a week or so
In Roger’s mini, Cornwall bound,
And spent a week there bumming round.

Summer sixty-five that was;
And then, there was a gap because -
Well - after all is said and done,
Meeting girls was much more fun.
So by the time we met again
I’d met Sue - and Roger - Fen

Then, as they do, the years sped by;
Rog got married - so did I.
We started meeting up again
For a weekend, now and then.
Just messed about, things we enjoyed
Played Stevie Wonder and Pink Floyd.

Now Roger’s joy and ecstasy
Was his MGB GT
(Rog being Rog, he called it his mergabergatter)
Rog was tall, the car was small
God knows how he got in at all
But getting out - now here’s the thing -
He’d burst out like a coiled spring

The way things go, it wasn’t long
‘Fore Tash and Toby came along.
We had Manda, so thought we may
All go off for a holiday.
We caught a bug, all had our share -
Diarrhoea and vomit everywhere.

First Arun Crescent, moved again;
To Behind Road then Half Moon Lane.
(the address was 21 Hinde Road but I’d address letters to 21B Hinde Road)
Then things all went a bit awry -
We both lost touch and years slipped by.
But meantime Rog and Y-vonne meet;
They get it on - and life is sweet.

Then from Y-vonne, an invitation;
To Roger’s birthday celebration.
We meet again - get slightly pissed,
Then all next day we reminisced.
Gee. Fifty years: Oh me! Oh my!
How those years just roll on by.

So then we kept in touch again
Spent a weekend now and then.
Friday night a good old natter,
Late to bed but didn’t matter.
A take-away, a little booze;
Listened to some jazz and blues.

Rog played his Gibson - wondered if
He could find that Clapton riff.
On Saturday down Brighton pier
Lunch in the pub and have a beer.
Come the evening - dinner then
Sunday morning - home again.

Well, I’ve know Rog a damn long time
A friendship that I’d call sublime.
Eccentric yes, but kind, I’d say -
A gentle-man in every way.
You really couldn’t ask for more
I’ll miss the bugger - that’s for sure.