Gray’s Eulogy

Graham Scott Livesey 21 June 1949 – 12 October 2023

It’s hard to believe that the last time I posted here was 13th Nov 2021 when Benj had passed. There’s a lot of water under the bridge since then that’s kept me from writing, but I’m now back in a space where I’m ready to get back into it. Graham, one of my closest and oldest friends, who succumbed to cancer and chose an assisted death – legal in the Netherlands where he lived – and Benj were best friends. I’ve been meaning to post this since the funeral but it’s taken me awhile to get my head around it – emotionally and otherwise. So here now is my eulogy, which I gave at his funeral.

Heerlen Crematorium – 18 Oct. 2023

Graham and I have been friends for the last 50 years. There are so many stories to tell that it’s hard to know where to start. So I’ll start at the beginning. 

If we had been normal people, it’s unlikely we would ever have met, let alone become close friends. But we are travellers, nomads, adventurers and we met on the road. Let me take you to City Park Nairobi, Kenya in early 1973, a colonial municipal park with a small campsite, a hub for overlanders in East Africa. I turned up there after a few months of travel from Cairo, through Egypt, Sudan and Ethiopia and into Kenya. Some Americans on hearing that I was a Brit. Said – with raised  eyebrows – “Oh, there’s a bunch of Brits over there!” – as though they were talking about another species. They were pointing to a long high green tarpaulin shelter rigged at the back of an old Bedford army lorry. I walked over to find 10 likely lads from Essex inside the tarp, and was greeted with: “Ello mate fancy a Chillum?” and a proferred Indian hash pipe full of Kenyan weed. “There’s porridge and tinned peaches too if you’re hungry? It’s all we have left.” It was about eight o’clock in the morning! That was my introduction to the Harold Hill Mob – Digsy, Paul K, Bernie, Al, others and Graham, even then de facto “driver leader”. Within a week or so Gray and I were sharing tent space, hitchhiking across the Tsavo National Park to Arusha, with Benj, who had just turned up from England, and memorably hiring a Land Rover with six others to witness the total eclipse of the sun at Lake Turkana. During which trip Graham and I were arrested and thrown in jail in Thompson’s Falls, on remand for a night, with 40 other prisoners in the cell. But that’s a story for another time. Suffice it to say we grinned our way through and had “a good titter” as Gray would say. I learned a lot from Graham. Some things I can tell you about, like how to service a car, change the engine on a Peugeot or pull a truck out of the sand in the Sahara with a steel cable. And other things – like how to get two kilos of peaches for the price of one in a French supermarket – that I can’t tell you about on the grounds that I might incriminate myself. 

But most of all, Gray taught me that if you approached something with enough audacity and conviction, or “front” as we’d say in London, you could get away with almost anything. And Graham had more front than Sainsbury’s or Albert Hein for you Limburgers.  And for the most part, but not always, he did get away with it. 

My first trip to Maastricht with him and Benj was a case in point. The three of us had set off from London in a 20 tonne Albion truck of Benj’s, loaded with fridges, sacks of clothes and other “trade goods” covered over with a tarpaulin. At Dover, Gray went in to buy a ticket, came out and drove us into the camper-van queue for the ferry. An official appeared and shouted up at Graham: “Oi mate freight is over there!” pointing at a line of trucks a few 100 metres away. Graham replies, as he hands the man the ticket: “No mate, this is a camper – look at the ticket.” The guy duly inspects the ticket and then looks up at Gray. “Oh yes mate you’re right – OK” shrugs his shoulders and walks away. 

That first trip to Maastricht was when I met Nell, Ger, Birget Bart and others. Eventually Graham settled here – firstly in Margratten – as he’d discovered Limburg and its borders was a great place to buy trucks. Later when I was in America in ‘84, I got a birth card when Masha came along and he was with Chantal. Now as of just a few weeks ago, his wife – What took you so long Graham, really? 

We had so many adventures together over the years and you will see some clips from the film of our  ‘82/’83 Sahara trip “The Iron Camel” in a little while.

 When Judy and I got together and set off for a summer in France in 1990 Graham invited us to Montalivet,  and from then on our growing families became truly entwined, Weits and Cyrille and your kids, then our Alex, Jesse, Justin, and your Jessie, summer after summer in Montalivet. The Heek and then Termaar. Chantal; Gray found a gem in you and your wonderful family. All you Rientjens – you’re a fabulous family – loving and supporting – it’s a pleasure and a privilege to know you. 

Anyone who knew Graham well will know that he wasn’t always sweetness, light and laughter – he could be stubborn at times – to say the least. There was only one way of doing things – Graham’s way, and inevitably we bumped heads occasionally – but not for long. That said, he had a huge generosity of spirit, he was immensely loyal to his friends, and he supported and took pride in the efforts of others, especially his family and close friends and was always telling us about the achievements of others, without rancour or envy. 

Although he may have doubted it towards the end, while he held on with great strength to prepare for his final journey, he did well in life and with Chantal has left solid foundations on which his children and grandkids can continue to build. 

Graham you are my big brother and I will miss you, so farewell my friend until we meet again somewhere over the rainbow. 

The Iron Camel is the film of one of our journeys together – with our late friend Benj – in December and January 1982-3 when we drove from Maastricht in the Netherlands to Maroua in Northern Cameroun. Our convoy consisted of 6 trucks, 3 cars, 3 mopeds and a truck engine or two – with only 3 drivers!

Postscript

The image above is the memorial card handed out at Graham’s funeral by his family. Part of his legacy is that he passed his sense of humour to his children – and this card is a typical example. Justin who edited the card – asked me “Si do you know what Gray’s doing in that pic?” Having travelled with him across the desert I had a fair idea and guessed correctly and we giggled as Justin sent me the original photo from which the detail is cropped…