Spinneyhead, or one of the team, anyway, became an uncle again on Saturday. Congratulations to Damian’s sister Millie and her husband on the birth of their baby boy.
The good news was tempered somewhat by the fact that we were trying to accept the death of a friend at the time we received it.
Andy McCruden died on Friday night. He was found by his flatmate and a friend when they returned from a night out. The news reached Casa Spinneyhead at noon, where Ian was just waking up to a massive hangover. As it sank in we got follow up messages telling us where his friends were meeting up.
The rest of the day was spent drinking, remembering Andy anecdotes, taking the occasional quiet moments and making off colour jokes to help cope. A wake seemed the most appropriate thing to have.
Loud, opinionated, occasionally obnoxious and always inventively abusive, Andy was rarely dull. He was one of those people who seemed a bit more alive than the rest of us. Most of us remember seeing him at some time or another cycling at ridiculous speed, head down and determined, daring the drivers to mess with him. We all remember him at Jilly’s and elsewhere, charged up on JD and Coke and Irn Bru, telling the world why it was wrong and he was right and how he could sort it all out with a bit of fire and/or Semtex.
Intermission in the style of Andy….. “FELCH!”
He introduced us all to the concept of the trebuchet as an instrument of social justice – the idea of using it to launch scallies and other ne’er do wells or people who had annoyed him slightly into orbit was fairly typical of him.
He had also threatened to use the following as a screensaver at work –
[deepbreath]count integer do until 10[/deepbreath]
Andy was also an active member of Rag and will be especially missed during the Bogle Stroll, where his role in the control room and on the radios often kept the rest of us sane and the event going smoothly.
His is not a role that can be stepped into, and no-one wants to. We’ll just have to learn to accept the Andy shaped hole at events and evenings out.
We will all remember the guy that cared more about his friends than himself and enriched our lives for the better and taught us that the only thing hippies are good for is firewood!
A final word from Andy, the last text many of us received from him and one of many such which brightened days in the office:
Andy’s guide to blatant violations of the Trades Description Act No. 93: “lava lamps” do not, in fact, contain red hot molten rock.
We’re all really going to miss that bloody minded, megalomaniac, pyromaniac and- by his own admission- sociopathic Scottish bastard.
Ian P, Ian J, Damian, Donna, Harry, Tim and Clare