Name: A303を走る南西部 第一章 ビルおじさん (Southwest on the A303 - Chapter One - Uncle Bill)
Uploaded: 2021-01-14T09:34:08.000Z
Duration: 11 min 23 s
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Southwest on the A three or three by Adam Gary.

My mom's arm wrapped around me and she asked if I needed anything.

No, thanks, I said, sitting blankly on the side of my bed.

She asked, gently sitting down next to me.

There wasn't much to do these days and everything was a drag.

Well, I do standing with Yeah, Mom tested.

I appreciate the effort, but I was very content with staying in my room, reading or watching television.

The truth is, I didn't find anything in life exciting anymore.

And that wasn't because my uncle it just passed away.

In fact, it still keeps me up at night as I relive it over and over, being forced to feel that dark, sinking feeling again and again, completely overshadowing how I felt when I try to remind myself of the good times, I'd say I had a unique relationship with Uncle Bill.

He was actually my second cousin, but this was so much easier I looked up to him like a father.

He was everything I so desperately wanted to be.

Smart, collected, calm, talented, beyond belief.

An amazing guitar player on bassist lucky enough to grow up through the sixties and seventies.

He used to run security for music venues and the stories he would tell me about him and his faithful guard dog, Rambo.

How you've threatened to lock Ronnie Wood in the Hammersmith Odeon one night after a Stones concert because running it being piping past curfew.

Well, how it's up stage for Jimi Hendrix in a small pub in Hounslow before Hendrix became Hendricks.

Once we finish setting up, he said, we just pissed off to the pub.

He was just another guitar player at the time, so casual about the whole thing.

The truth is, Bill was full of stories like that, some of which I'm not even allowed to mention.

One of my favorite memories of our time together came in the winter of 2011.

I was 19 years old and didn't really know what I was doing in life.

I just knew that I wanted to create and to be an actor on the stage, which my uncle will support it wholeheartedly, by the way, and I certainly hadn't discovered any individuality within myself.

I had an idea of what I liked and who I wanted to be, but no clue how to get there.

Uncle Bill invited me to go spend some time with him and Soul Search.

I boarded the train from reading to par a quiet town and core more excited to spend the next week and 1/2 relaxing, hanging out with Bill.

Well, of course, spoken on the phone a week before to organize the logistics and such.

When Bill drifted off into one of his great stories, he was telling me about his time as a kid growing up in Chizik, running around mystery, obviously, and then racing back home to watch his favorite television program quite a mass, which, of course, I now had to watch.

When I finally got to his bungalow in par, I made my way inside and in the middle of his loom sat two plastic boxes filled to the brim with films like Creature From the Black Lagoon and Dracula, Monroe Films, Brando Films, Dean Films, You Name it.

By the end of that week and 1/2 I had seen my first Brando film and had been introduced to both James Dean and Marilyn Monroe.

In fact, not only had I been introduced to them, I had seen their entire collection of work and, of course, the main mighty quater Mastin disappoint, either.

On top of all those films he had recorded hours upon hours of music documentaries off the television from BBC four.

I'd also being introduced to his music collection, which included Peter Green's Fleetwood Mac, all the while sharing a few Jack Daniels and Coke together.

Needless to say that we can have changed my life and I left feeling I had found my path.

So you can imagine how I felt when I received the news last week that Uncle Bill had passed away.

It comes so suddenly and hit me with a terrible force.

Mom has been on the phone constantly notifying family and making funeral arrangements was, I've been unable to do much, but sit in my room desperately trying to relive that golden week.

Which certain information, including getting an oversized on which Bill had previously expressed he wanted in order to mix his ashes with Rondo's bill was a lone wolf.

And I have a feeling that if you had his way, he wouldn't even bother with a funeral.

He'd probably be happy to drift away, silently sliding into obscurity as if he hadn't even Gracie off with his present.

He couldn't stand attention unless it was coming from the opposite sex.

Then he would be a smooth Don Hahn himself.

I continued to sit on the side of my bed.

Is my little West Highland terrier, looked up at me with a sweet bigness and brown eyes.

She obviously saw this as an invitation to leap up onto the bed beside me and lay down talking herself up quickly.

Mom was expecting Bill's lawyer around to go through the will with us and discuss formalities.

It's funny, isn't it, that men in suits confined ways to slime into your life.

Charging for their service is no matter what the circumstance.

I wasn't entirely sure whether I was ready to go through his last wishes just yet.

Maybe it's because I wanted to forget the fact that he had left us.

Well, maybe it was because it would feel like he hadn't left us after all.

I guess I wasn't really sure what I wanted to feel.

And sure enough, the afternoon came quickly.

He was actually a really kind gentleman, sensitive to how we were feeling on approach, his work slowly and with great care.

A few hours went by and I learned I'd pretty much being left with.

Everything, including his bungalow, was given the keys to the door on the spot.

Just like that, the lawyer got to his feet, wish to swell and left.

Days went by on Mom had made all the arrangements for the funeral, which was to take place in part two weeks from now and had somehow managed to contact all of Bill's friends that he hadn't seen for more than eight years.

I jumped up thinking something terrible had happened and race into the living room out of the window, I could see an old but shiny light olive green Volkswagen camper van being lowered from a tow truck and onto the side of the street.

I asked, surprised to see it in London and not parked on Bill's driveway down in core More.

Apparently, he had requested one of his neighbors to have it delivered to me.

Within his will, a rough, dirty looking mechanic approached the door and asked me to sign for the van.

Before he disappeared off down the road and into his truck, presumably heading back to call more.

I walked out onto the side of the road and look the van over.

Bill had always kept good care of it, as it was a passion of his.

The old VW campers on was the closest he could get toe the ones Volkswagen made back in the seventies, used to own one back then and, of course, had many stories to go along with it, some of them being hilariously explicit, which resulted in his friend's nicknaming him.

After I had a good look around the outside, I noticed there was an envelope sitting on the driver's seat.

Curious Ayan look divine and pulled it out, quickly opening it.

There was a letter tucked inside on a small piece of note pad paper.

字幕リスト動画再生

A303を走る南西部第一章ビルおじさん (Southwest on the A303 - Chapter One - Uncle Bill)

stare

desperately

grasp

core

A303を走る南西部 第一章 ビルおじさん (Southwest on the A303 - Chapter One - Uncle Bill)

stare

desperately

grasp

core

A303を走る南西部第一章ビルおじさん (Southwest on the A303 - Chapter One - Uncle Bill)