Clive Walker 1957-2011. An Old Spot regular.

Clive, or as many of us knew him, 'Whack' had been a regular at the Old Spot for about 8 years. Initially, Clive would sit quietly, but it wasn't long before he became a highly respected member of the early doors 'Old Spot Mafia'. He charmed us all with his razor sharp wit, but was also just the guy to have in your corner if you had to talk seriously about something that was bothering you.

The following is the epitaph that Kenny 'Boy' Lush gave the Clive's Memorial Sevice on Friday 11th March, 2011. It is with the kind permission of Ken and his wife, Jo that we are able to reproduce it here.
Stu the Brew

Clive Walker - Written by Ken Lush, 11.03.11

I've been asked to talk about Clive on behalf of the Early Doors crew at the Old Spot. Yes, the Early Doors crew: also known as the 'Early Door Mafia', because, well, naturally we own the pub, don't we?

When Clive first breezed in about 7 or 8 years ago, he sat at one of the two tables we colonised (and we did colonise), next to the fire naturally. Who's this interloper?!

And whilst we engaged in our (at times cutting, at others puerile) banter, Clive would sit quietly by, ignoring us whilst he did the Telegraph crossword, or so we thought. Occasionally he would 'speak' with a withering facial expression, or perhaps interject with a rapier sharp piece of wit. That was Clive's hallmark. This would bring much mirth and then he'd go back to the crossword. This guy was good - very good. I started to wonder 'who was auditioning who', and if he didn't come in we'd ask where the guy with the silver-grey, spiky hair was today.

Not everyone passed the audition. Ronnie, the 'depressing' poet tried too hard, talked too much and never listened. One day, the poet sat between the two tables. I was first in and stayed at the bar as far away as I could. A few more came in and joined me. And then Clive came in, assessed the situation by the door: free table, crossword, poet. He joined us at the bar - a lost diaspora with a common cause. We should thank Ronnie - he was the unexpected catalyst in the cruel world of pub politics.

After that, Clive never bothered with the crossword. In our group of friends, he was the sharpest tool in the box, but he never 'held court'. Often he would 'say' something without speaking - the look would do. He had catch phrases: "You're thinking what I'm thinking" and "Yes, you're right". Despite the fact you hadn't said anything! Crumbs! The man could read minds as well! Awesome! Clive read people; read their faces, which probably made him a great operator in his work.

Oh yes, work. I reckon for about the first four years I knew Clive, I didn't know what he did for a living. I never asked and he never talked about it. Work did not define Clive's life, so it seemed, yet he was clearly good at it. During 'Early Doors', the office was open, and if the Blackberry buzzed, he'd respond, disappearing for a few minutes, and on return, just carry on. Seamless, smooth operator or what?

Clive would never accept a drink. He didn't get involved in rounds. He was an individual and he bought his own. We talked about holidays a lot. They were sacrosanct. (There is a link here!) We shared a passion for Greek islands and whenever Clive and Jo went there, I would receive a bottle of Mythos lager on their return. I'd go home, sip the Mythos, close my eyes and dream of Greek islands - you need a lively imagination when you live in Upper Cam! But it was a rare chance to buy Clive a pint. "What's that for?" he'd ask.
"The Mythos".
"But that was a gift"
"Yes, I know, but you've travelled the best part of 3000 miles there and back to fetch it! So it's surely a pint of Ric. Play the grace card, Clive." And he would.

We talked about food a lot in the Early Doors crew. Apparently it's something blokes do. Clive was never a 'cow pie' man, but he appreciated quality. We reckoned that he knew every bar snack menu of every decent pub within a hundred miles of Dursley - especially if it didn't involve cheese! In fact, it was an unwritten law that we never mentioned the word 'cheese' in case Clive had an adverse reaction.

Clive was great supporter of my musical career. He and Jo would often come to a gig I was playing. Sometimes they brought Jo's mum along too. After one memorable occasion, I came off stage and said to Clive, "Jo's mum seemed to enjoy it ..."
"Yes," he said, "She's deaf!"

In the grand scheme of things, I didn't really know Clive for that long but in that time he became my closest friend and confidante. I reckon that you're lucky if you meet maybe 3 or 4 of what I call 'great people' in a lifetime.

Clive was rounded, had balance and integrity and was non-judgemental. And he seemed so at ease with his place in this crazy world. It's been a privilege and an honour to be a small part of that journey. Clive was truly great.

Kenny Boy Lush.
11th March, 2011.

::  Why not add this site to your favourites.