Traditionally, at this point, I'd have look back at the last three hundred and sixty five days and have a bit an enthuse about all the culture I consumed.
But, 2015 is different because everything else that happened is eclipsed by one monumental event.
Leon died.
I first crossed paths with Leon Webster in 1991, when I'd just moved to Leicester and was searching all the comic shops for a copy of Prince: Alter Ego #1 (yes, they had more than one comic shop in Leicester in 1991! I know, right?)
I found him working in The Final Frontier on St Nicholas Place. During my Prince comic quest, he was the only person who seemed to know what I was talking about. He informed me that I had jumped the gun as the comic in question had not yet been published and I should call back in a week.
Leon was a seemingly unassuming schmindy-kid, with a ponytail and (most likely) a Ned's Atomic Dustbin T-shirt.
At the time, the encounter would have seemed pretty inconsequential. In hindsight, it's funny how this first meeting set the tone for our entire twenty-four year relationship; a music and comics crossover, with Leon already in the role of my cultural adviser.
Over time, I became a regular at The Final Frontier and also began to run into Leon at various bars and clubs around the city. I think we were initially wary of each other, as the insular world of comics and the social world of clubbing and gigs seemed far more separate back then. To find someone who existed happily in both worlds was slightly disconcerting.
In the early nineties, I was living, backwards and forwards, between London and Leicester, participating in various jobs and college courses. Eventually, I even ended up working alongside Leon at The Final Frontier for a time, and that was where our friendship was sealed.
The nineties hurtled on in an ever-shifting kaleidoscope of jobs, cities, homes, colleges and girlfriends. I found myself, at the start of the millennium, washed up on the shores of Leicester once more. I came across Leon in The Orange Tree. He immediately passed me his headphones and said, "Listen to this.You'll love it."
It was a tape he'd got free with the copy of Kerrang! he was sat reading. I had always been more of Mixmag type of geezer and Leon was well aware of this fact. But, he exactly knew what he was doing.
The tune was Out/Definition by The Mad Capsule Markets.
He was right. I adored it.
This small event really captures one of Leon's most important skills. His enthusiasms were very wide and extremely eclectic. He would think nothing of going to see The Saturdays in concert one night and Slipknot the next and be equally excited for both. This omni-enthusiasm enabled him to see the cultural blind-spots in those around him and point them towards things they may have otherwise missed.
These recommendations were bespoke. Made-to-measure for whomever he was speaking to at that given moment. Leon's circle of friends was as wide-ranging and eclectic as his taste in music and his ability to hook you up with something you might have missed even stretched to people.
During those Wilderness Years of the early noughties in the Orange Tree, Leon brought me and Anup together and what followed was to inspire the situation comedy the three of us never got around to writing. I have probably never before laughed so much than when in the company of Leon and Anup together. Our triumvirate had all the funny a boy could ever need; Anup's brutal nihilism, Leon's abstract scatology and my whatever the fuck I did.
The three of us moved in together and then it all went a bit like this;
A steady diet of alcohol and WWF Pay-Per-Views was enjoyed by us three housemates, alongside the many, many visitors who passed through our hedonistic abode. I even met Lauren, my future wife, during this time; Leon, once again, bringing people together (during the No Way Out PPV, 2003 fact fans!).
Fun? Yes. Sustainable? No. Eventually, I had to run away, back to London.
Through the remainder of the noughties, Leon and I were in different cities, but the era of social media had begun and we were never really of touch. Annual Glastonbury pilgrimages were planned, and ticket purchasing was executed with all the painstaking logistics associated with an extended military campaign.
Myspace begat Facebook begat Twitter and Leon extended his role of social conduit and cultural curator to the on-line community. The information age was the perfect platform for his mission to link people together. Leon's social circle increased exponentially.
The downside to his gregarious nature meant that, over time, Leon's drinking had gotten out of control and had began to effect his health. A few years ago, after a stint in hospital, he was informed that he needed to cease drinking alcohol completely. Much to everyone's relief, he not only stopped, but thrived.
He went through treatment for his alcoholism. He turned this negative into a positive, retraining to became a qualified health champion and securing a job with the probation service, where he helped others with their own drink and drug problems.
Now sober, Leon's culture intake exploded. He visited the cinema pretty much daily. His appetite for live music was insatiable. Around this time, he brought my attention to the British independent wrestling promotion, Progress Wrestling; and I accompanied with him to a show at the Electric Ballroom in Camden.
While we were there, this happened...
It was an epiphany.
From that moment on, we were regulars at every Camden Progress show. It seemed that Leon's new, clean-living lifestyle was working out. For a while, it was.
But then, Leon fell off the wagon. No one is quite sure exactly when it happened, but he was drinking heavily again at Glastonbury 2015. After the festival, he swore it was just a blip. He went back to his doctor for treatment and resumed his abstinence. We felt relived that disaster had, once more, been averted.
The last time I saw him to speak to was 18th October at the Electric Ballroom for the Progress Show. He had been admitted to the Leicester Royal Infirmary the previous week and we had been texting about the state of his health and the impending wresting show. He was playing down his hospital stay, insisting that I need not worry; he was fine and would be discharged in time to be at the Ballroom, as usual.
When the day came, it was suddenly all too clear just how ill he had become. I was shocked at the state of him.At the time, I couldn't understand why he had come when he was clearly in no fit state to do so. In hindsight, it is obvious that the reason he came was because he knew it would be for the last time.
He was readmitted to the Leicester Royal a week or so later. There was nothing further they could do for him. We rushed to Leicester to say goodbye. He was semi-conscious from intensity of his palliative care. The stream of visitors to his bedside was never-ending.
Leon died in the early hours of the 31st October, 2015, surrounded by friends.
It has taken me so long to write anything at all about this. At the time of his death, many people wrote the most beautiful, heartfelt things. Every time I've attempted to do the same, I couldn't find the right words. Even now, this ramble has taken me days to string together. I still don't have the words, but I felt I had to get down some words, right or wrong.
Leon was the patron saint of enthusiasm and I was incredibly lucky to have him as my friend. His continued absence is painful and disorientating.
Perhaps the best way to honour Leon's passing is to continue his work. To enthuse. To celebrate and share the things that inspire us or move us. The things that make us laugh. The things that help us to understand or just make a difficult day a little more bearable.
I will enthuse again. But, not just now.
b
x
I found him working in The Final Frontier on St Nicholas Place. During my Prince comic quest, he was the only person who seemed to know what I was talking about. He informed me that I had jumped the gun as the comic in question had not yet been published and I should call back in a week.
Leon was a seemingly unassuming schmindy-kid, with a ponytail and (most likely) a Ned's Atomic Dustbin T-shirt.
At the time, the encounter would have seemed pretty inconsequential. In hindsight, it's funny how this first meeting set the tone for our entire twenty-four year relationship; a music and comics crossover, with Leon already in the role of my cultural adviser.
Over time, I became a regular at The Final Frontier and also began to run into Leon at various bars and clubs around the city. I think we were initially wary of each other, as the insular world of comics and the social world of clubbing and gigs seemed far more separate back then. To find someone who existed happily in both worlds was slightly disconcerting.
In the early nineties, I was living, backwards and forwards, between London and Leicester, participating in various jobs and college courses. Eventually, I even ended up working alongside Leon at The Final Frontier for a time, and that was where our friendship was sealed.
The nineties hurtled on in an ever-shifting kaleidoscope of jobs, cities, homes, colleges and girlfriends. I found myself, at the start of the millennium, washed up on the shores of Leicester once more. I came across Leon in The Orange Tree. He immediately passed me his headphones and said, "Listen to this.You'll love it."
It was a tape he'd got free with the copy of Kerrang! he was sat reading. I had always been more of Mixmag type of geezer and Leon was well aware of this fact. But, he exactly knew what he was doing.
The tune was Out/Definition by The Mad Capsule Markets.
He was right. I adored it.
This small event really captures one of Leon's most important skills. His enthusiasms were very wide and extremely eclectic. He would think nothing of going to see The Saturdays in concert one night and Slipknot the next and be equally excited for both. This omni-enthusiasm enabled him to see the cultural blind-spots in those around him and point them towards things they may have otherwise missed.
These recommendations were bespoke. Made-to-measure for whomever he was speaking to at that given moment. Leon's circle of friends was as wide-ranging and eclectic as his taste in music and his ability to hook you up with something you might have missed even stretched to people.
During those Wilderness Years of the early noughties in the Orange Tree, Leon brought me and Anup together and what followed was to inspire the situation comedy the three of us never got around to writing. I have probably never before laughed so much than when in the company of Leon and Anup together. Our triumvirate had all the funny a boy could ever need; Anup's brutal nihilism, Leon's abstract scatology and my whatever the fuck I did.
The three of us moved in together and then it all went a bit like this;
A steady diet of alcohol and WWF Pay-Per-Views was enjoyed by us three housemates, alongside the many, many visitors who passed through our hedonistic abode. I even met Lauren, my future wife, during this time; Leon, once again, bringing people together (during the No Way Out PPV, 2003 fact fans!).
Fun? Yes. Sustainable? No. Eventually, I had to run away, back to London.
Through the remainder of the noughties, Leon and I were in different cities, but the era of social media had begun and we were never really of touch. Annual Glastonbury pilgrimages were planned, and ticket purchasing was executed with all the painstaking logistics associated with an extended military campaign.
Myspace begat Facebook begat Twitter and Leon extended his role of social conduit and cultural curator to the on-line community. The information age was the perfect platform for his mission to link people together. Leon's social circle increased exponentially.
The downside to his gregarious nature meant that, over time, Leon's drinking had gotten out of control and had began to effect his health. A few years ago, after a stint in hospital, he was informed that he needed to cease drinking alcohol completely. Much to everyone's relief, he not only stopped, but thrived.
He went through treatment for his alcoholism. He turned this negative into a positive, retraining to became a qualified health champion and securing a job with the probation service, where he helped others with their own drink and drug problems.
Now sober, Leon's culture intake exploded. He visited the cinema pretty much daily. His appetite for live music was insatiable. Around this time, he brought my attention to the British independent wrestling promotion, Progress Wrestling; and I accompanied with him to a show at the Electric Ballroom in Camden.
While we were there, this happened...
It was an epiphany.
From that moment on, we were regulars at every Camden Progress show. It seemed that Leon's new, clean-living lifestyle was working out. For a while, it was.
But then, Leon fell off the wagon. No one is quite sure exactly when it happened, but he was drinking heavily again at Glastonbury 2015. After the festival, he swore it was just a blip. He went back to his doctor for treatment and resumed his abstinence. We felt relived that disaster had, once more, been averted.
The last time I saw him to speak to was 18th October at the Electric Ballroom for the Progress Show. He had been admitted to the Leicester Royal Infirmary the previous week and we had been texting about the state of his health and the impending wresting show. He was playing down his hospital stay, insisting that I need not worry; he was fine and would be discharged in time to be at the Ballroom, as usual.
When the day came, it was suddenly all too clear just how ill he had become. I was shocked at the state of him.At the time, I couldn't understand why he had come when he was clearly in no fit state to do so. In hindsight, it is obvious that the reason he came was because he knew it would be for the last time.
He was readmitted to the Leicester Royal a week or so later. There was nothing further they could do for him. We rushed to Leicester to say goodbye. He was semi-conscious from intensity of his palliative care. The stream of visitors to his bedside was never-ending.
Leon died in the early hours of the 31st October, 2015, surrounded by friends.
It has taken me so long to write anything at all about this. At the time of his death, many people wrote the most beautiful, heartfelt things. Every time I've attempted to do the same, I couldn't find the right words. Even now, this ramble has taken me days to string together. I still don't have the words, but I felt I had to get down some words, right or wrong.
Leon was the patron saint of enthusiasm and I was incredibly lucky to have him as my friend. His continued absence is painful and disorientating.
Perhaps the best way to honour Leon's passing is to continue his work. To enthuse. To celebrate and share the things that inspire us or move us. The things that make us laugh. The things that help us to understand or just make a difficult day a little more bearable.
I will enthuse again. But, not just now.
b
x
