When I visited Shropshire, I heard of the death of Barry Evans.

I first met Barry in 1981/2.

We were both angry, young men from different towns and our reputations preceded us.
Because we shared a group of friends, we learned how to be polite while not relaxing a moment in each others presence.

During the 90's, Barry and I learned to 'hug'.
Him from Raves;
me from the personal growth work.

Back then, we had a mutual liking of ecstatic moments.
Talking shit round a bonfire till the dawn or the police came.
We bonded.

In 2006, I got a call at work from my partner. Barry had turned up at our house, in West Molesey, wanting to see me.
He wanted to know about my 'personal growth' and for the next two days we shared the intimate details of our pasts, noting the patterns of behavior that made us who we are.

Two years later, he was helping me leave a town (and life) that was chaotic and dangerous.
He never asked me questions and he never judged me.
I loved him for that.

Barry. You were a true man. Through your struggles and battles (mostly with yourself) you always did and said what you thought right.

I salute you.