We laid Jamie to rest this morning. About 80 people present. Wonderful guy, and proud to call him 'my mate'
When I arrived in Portland in 1990, I stepped off the bus with limited funds, a suitcase, a backpack, and a toolbox in hand, and a job prospect with a company that I knew nothing about. I had only ever passed through this town once before, as a fuel stop while touring to Melbourne in 1973.
Jamie approached me as I stood looking around and asked if he could help.
I queried the location of the company, and he offered to drive me to the office, several blocks away. I was in the office for around 40 minutes or so, and was taken on, to commence work at the beginning of the next week, 3 days away.
When I left the office, Jamie was still waiting, and drove me to a caravan park where he knew there was affordable accommodation.
He returned to the park later that afternoon and invited me to his home for a meal, where I met his wife Angie and his then 4 year old son. I have been a frequent visitor to their home over the past 26 years, and we shared a love of fishing on many weekends.
Top mate, and I miss him dearly.
How lucky I am to have something that makes saying goodbye so hard.
