At 8 o’clock yesterday morning Eugene Jones died and the world lost a cantankerous old git. I didn’t realise how fond I was of the old bugger until someone rang me this afternoon to let me know he was gone. I also didn’t realise how much I’ve been looking forward to trading insults with him at the bar of the Fisherman’s Arms in Newlyn when we visit at Christmas. Despite his many ailments I somehow imagined that, like the proverbial creaky gate, that he’d outlive the lot of us.
Our thoughts go out to Annie, his wife, his sons Finbar and Fergus and their families.
Farewell Eugene, you will be missed.