Memories of Martin

On Saturday morning I woke to the news that Martin, a God Squadder and long-time Zaccer, had died after a short illness. Tributes have been showing up on Facebook from many of the bikers and they all say what a loyal man he was, a great friend to have, wonderful to ride with. My memories are different and I'd like to share them now.

The first time I went to a bible study at Zac's was in 2006. I walked in and it was like that scene in the cowboy film where the stranger walks in and a hush gradually spreads across the saloon until it reaches the bar where, in this case, three burly tattooed men - the very epitome of tough bikers - stood chatting. In one second the courage I'd gathered was dissipated to the furthest extremities of my body.

Martin is on the left

The three men turned around and stared at me. Then Blossum said, 'Hello, love. Welcome to Zac's.'

It wasn't long before Blossum and Baz (in the photo above with his hand on his wife's bottom) had accepted me into the community; it took longer with Martin. He was justifiably suspicious of PoshTotty, as he later (about 2013) introduced me to a BBC sound recordist. (It took me a week to come up with this sparkling response: 'If I were posh I certainly wouldn't be talking to you!')

In fact it wasn't until 2010 that Martin put his arm around me and said, 'You're all right, you are.'

I'd made it! His approval meant so much to me. Another time after I'd plucked up my courage to say something during the study Martin said, 'I liked your comment.'
That was praise indeed.

But by 2011 I'd earned myself the honour of being asked to lead Zac's in Sean's absence. With Martin, that is. Now Sean had tried to get Martin to do this on a number of occasions and each time Martin had come up with all sorts of excuses why he couldn't do it. Like 'My car's blown up.' Or so he said.

Then one time I decided that, as Martin was always landing me in it, I'd play the innocent and when he asked me if I'd prepared I'd say, 'No, you're leading it, aren't you?'

When I arrived at Zac's Martin told me he'd have to leave early - yeah right - but it turned out he had a really good reason and I felt rotten. My plan to tease Martin continued to backfire on me as I discovered I'd prepared the wrong bit. And, yes, you've guessed it, Martin came to my rescue and led the study before dashing off. He had loads of knowledge and did a great job. 
'I told Sean I 'ate doing this,' Martin said, 'but Sean said "it's good for you".'

His reluctance to lead was down to his shyness - not always obvious from his tough exterior. His shyness, however, didn't stop him taking advantage of my gullibility.

One night we were leading and I asked Martin, 'Who shall I ask to open with a prayer for us?'
He looked around and said, 'Ric.'

So we started, I welcomed everyone and then said, 'Would you pray for us, please, Ric?' The look on his face and the way his jaw dropped suggested that he wasn't used to praying aloud in a group. A quick glance at Martin who was doubled up giggling confirmed this suspicion.

Once I mentioned in Zac's that I had resigned myself to the fact that I would never be the mother of the messiah to which Martin chimed in, 'You could be the Nan though,' which set him giggling again.

However, on reflection, reading my Bathsheba, harlot or innocent, monologues in Zac's probably wasn't a good idea although Ric did suggest that I was in the wrong business and that I could make a fortune writing dirty books. But for weeks afterwards every time Martin saw me he sniggered.

Another time I was leading the study on the parable of the rich fool. When I saw Martin earlier in the day he asked me what the topic was and when I told him replied, 'You're the only one that'll be relevant to.'

I wasn't sure if he meant I was the only one who could be considered rich (relatively) or the only fool. Anyway I got to the end of the study and thought to myself, 'that went okayish,' when someone (not Martin) came across and whispered to me, 'I could see you were struggling and I would have stepped in but I didn't think it was my place.'

But my discomfort following this comment was more than made up for when Martin said, 'well done,' which I considered to be the equivalent of an Olympic gold medal.

As I said Martin had huge stocks of knowledge, sometimes quite obscure. One night I sat at the back and Martin came and sat next to me. Throughout the study he kept muttering comments of disagreement to me until, at one point, I determined to find a bible verse to prove him wrong. I was soon engrossed in my search and eventually found the verse I was looking for. I prodded Martin and whispered, 'Have a look at that.'

'What?'

'That there,' I said pointing.

Which was when Sean said, 'What do you think about that, Liz?'

I looked up, horrified: the naughty girl caught out talking in the back row. Then I realised everyone was laughing. In the words of Bluebottle, 'You rotten schwine, Martin, you deaded me!'

Before we started getting cakes from Greggs I used to bake each week. Martin would peer doubtfully at the cake and ask what it was. I'd tell him, and he'd make a face before reluctantly having a piece. He'd sniff and say, 'weren't bad I suppose,' before having a second slice.

 If I knew it was someone's birthday during the week I'd make a special cake. Martin shared his birthday week with Paul and you couldn't find two more different characters. Paul is never without a smile while Martin was always, 'Ee, I'm knackered, big sigh.' 

In 2013 Sean, Martin and I were involved in baptisms in Swansea bay and afterwards the three of us went in for a swim. 

I think this photo was taken just before Martin, with a huge grin on his face, said, 'I hope you kept your mouth closed when you were swimming downstream from me.'

'Awww MARTIN!'

There were things we disagreed about and topics I made sure to avoid because I knew we would argue but sometimes it was good to wind him up. When I led I would sometimes ask Ric to bring his guitar so we could have some 'worship'. Martin hated singing. At least any form of church communal singing.

And when he worked in the prison and had to attend the annual carol service you only had to look at his face to know he was there under duress. (Speaking of the prison who can forget the time the guard, assuming he was one of the inmates, tried to lock him up?)

I was surprised when I looked back over my blog to see how often Martin's name had cropped up. I was also surprised to discover it took him four years to accept me. But I knew once I'd proved myself and was accepted I was there for good. 

One night there was a fracas in the street during bible study. While I ran back and for ineffectually between the two combatants saying, 'Please stop! Please don't!' Martin stood and observed silently, ready but hoping he wouldn't have to step in. He was, as Sean has said, the man you would want at your side, the loyal friend who would put down his own life for his friends and beloved family.

When I was first getting to know everybody I asked Sean if Martin were married. 'Oh yes,' he said, 'to the love of his life. All the guys tease him because after a road trip he can't wait to get back to Una.'

Now it's up to Una and their two beautiful daughters to keep Martin alive for his little grandchildren. With stories and photos, memories and laughter. 

But first let the tears flow.

Postscript
Just remembered: Martin was the only person I knew who felt as I did about a certain someone (not in Zac's), much revered by everybody else.