Big Stan, the anchor man of Morris Engines is no more !
The man that could give me an ‘Octopus’ as a kid, so fast that I couldn’t breath in to get the words ‘stop’ to come out of my mouth – I never dare ask for an ‘Aeroplane’ for fear that a leg and an arm would have been snapped off.
When I was kid, Stan was one of my Chauffeurs from friday night youth club in Clifton, down to the Brownsover Social Club – pre Butlers Leap days mind you. He would constantly honk the horn on his car from Clifton to Brownsover, non stop, all the way. How he never got his collar felt by the old bill I do not know, and that was a good thing in the early 80’s because everybody was more relaxed about drinking and driving. As a kid of course – I loved it, as an adult – so did Stan.
I remember those nights out at the Bedworth Social Club – returning home in that old Morris Marina and walking back from the garages on Winfield Street – Ah the Morris Marina, everyone had one back in the day – normally with two cushions on the parcel shelf. My Granma never wanted me to go to the garage to drop the car off but I always managed to blag it. Stan would walk all the way back to East Street humming a tune with me in tow – struggling to keep up with his pace.
From a kids perspective – all adults are tall, strong and promote an air of resilience and immortality, it’s only as we grow older that we realise adults are in fact as fragile as everyone else. Big Stan was no different.
The respectful silence is over
Choose life – every fucking time…