Paul was a gambler. Not only by profession but in many aspects of his life. He lived for the moment, a day at a time. During his extensive travels he fell in love with Africa. A love I shared with him. Gambling and Africa went together nicely as far as Paul was concerned. The smoky atmosphere of the casino nights were blown away by gentle breezes on the Zambezi and Zaire rivers. Paul was also a fisherman, another sport of chance and excitement. He lived the wide open spaces , and the peace, a total contrast to the pressures of the craps and the roulette tables. He would spend hours just preparing his tackle in anticipation of another fishing trip. Paul never really settled anywhere for very long. A typical expatriate he would move on after one or two contracts to the next country, and next challenge. He worked in Zambia, Zaire, Haiti and Bermuda as well as in London and Brighton. His days at the famous ‘Playboy Club’ were related to me with a smile on his face. Halcyon days. Paul was in many ways a private person and not easy to know or understand. He would deal out his thoughts like the poker player he was, he always had an ace up his sleeve but rather used it. He searched for love and contentment and always hankered for the warmer climes of Africa and the Caribbean. To have died on an African airline is somehow sadly apt. I shall miss him. Paul was my friend.

Kevin John Dodd When I think of Kevin John Dodd, the memory that ignites is the one of him emerging from the Pepper-pot toilets by Queens Park one summer dressed in a T shirt and shorts. When he saw me walking into the park, his face broke into a broad grin and we both burst out laughing, because he knew that I knew what he’d been getting up to. I met Kevin at the Sussex AIDS Centre and Helpline when I was a volunteer there, and we got along straight away due to a shared sense of humour and a love of self-deprecation. Kevin was a member of Our House BP, and also sat on the board of the Sussex AIDS Centre as their representative. When Kevin died in February 1992, his service was conducted by Father Marcus Riggs, and took place at the Woodvale Crematorium off Lewes Road like many in those days. I remember the order of service had a black and white outline of Mickey Mouse on the cover page which made me smile. The music Kevin chose for his funeral was an eclectic mix. I remember ‘Nimrod’ from Elgar’s Enigma Variations in particular filling the space with undulating dissonant chords and an emotional resonance that had me sobbing into my sleeve. Later in the service ‘Reach out and touch’ by Diana Ross also hit the same spot albeit in a very different way. I think it was Kevin’s funeral that made me think for the first time about the songs that I might use to serenade my own passing, because back then life seemed so fleeting and death was everywhere. I will always remember Kevin for being cheeky, confidant, funny and completely fearless and all these years later, he is still missed by many. Harry Hillery 2021