Having moved from Scotland to Australia in 2005 to find out if she had fallen in love with the country as well as her husband a decade ago, she decided that the answer was 'yes' and intended to stay.


However life has always had a marvellous way of changing her best-laid plans. And it happened again. An unexpected work opportunity presented itself in mid-2008: one too good to miss.


As a result the Witter from Down Under is now coming from the land of the long white cloud - New Zealand.

Please join us and read Frenchbean's commentary on a new country, a new city, a new job and new friends.

Hello Everybody

I am fulfilling the wishes of a very recent widow in this Witter: a widow who wants the world to know about her late husband. This is the only way I know to do it.

Eighteen months ago I sent out a request to all my friends and acquaintances for their favourite jokes for my friend Grahame, who had been diagnosed with a brain tumour and was facing surgery. Between us, we made a fine series of joke booklets which were gradually opened as Grahame convalesced.

Whilst the tumour was removed successfully, the operation left him with irreparable disabilities. Last week he died.

My fine, laughter-filled, gentle and loving friend is gone.

I first met Grahame and Julie (who was soon to become his wife) at a concert in Glasgow in 1990. He was leaning against the bar, looking at me with twinkling baby-blue eyes (think Paul Newman) and waiting to hear what I was drinking. My first reaction was 'phwaw!' My split-second next reaction was to ask for a large Laphroaig please

Over the years, this picture was repeated many times: concerts, beers, bars and twinkling eyes. We added amazing dinners, more malt whisky, barbecues, bacon butty breakfasts, wobbly coffees and endless tales of derring-do and more laughter to times we shared.

Grahame became a true friend with whom I could laugh, cry, confess, tease and be comfortably silent. He found joy in all aspects of food. He was a great cook and delighted in sharing his skills and results with friends and family at every opportunity. His winter barbecues were legendary. As a raconteur he was second to none: one of those people to whom you listen intently and with a smile on your lips, because you know that you’ll be laughing before long. As a friend he was generous to a fault, but I wouldn’t have wanted to be somebody he despised. He didn’t suffer fools.

For years I held Grahame and Julie’s relationship as a beacon of what I aspired to, but which I never believed was going to come my way… until I met my . Then I understood that they were soulmates; absolute in their link to each other: best friends, lovers and better with the other than without.

He and Julie came out to Cooktown in '97, where Grahame and struck up a surprising rock solid bond of friendship, consisting largely of acting the arse and drinking beer, which was consolidated the following year when we returned to Scotland to get married. They were brothers in all but blood.

When died, Grahame and Julie understood what had gone from my life. They provided me gentle and unconditional love and support. And enormous opportunities for laughter.

Grahame was the man who formulated Plans A to D to ensure that I had a decent supply of English ale, namely Tanglefoot, when I moved into my house in Australia in 2005. It was the kind of thoughtful, generous and fairly bonkers act which characterised the wonderful man.

There is a time for everything and it was his time to die. For those of us who continue to live without his company, the sun shines a little less brightly. I know that many people have shed tears as filled with sorrow as mine. For Julie, please send thoughts and prayers. Her loss is the greatest. I hope she will find great comfort in the love and adoration in which Grahame held her.

Witters from Down Under Archive

Frenchbean

22.01.09 Front Page

Back Issue Page