The ramblings of Keane Ingram

So, following last week's unexplained mopiness, I now have a genuine reason for feeling awful. I found out on Sunday that one of my oldest friends, Barry, died on Saturday. There doesn't seem to be a clear explanation yet of what happened, but apparently one minute he was fine and the next he'd just collapsed. He'd only just turned 32 last month.

I'd known Barry since I was 8 - we moved to Rayleigh then, as Mum had just started a new job in Basildon. He lived over the road to us, and him, my brother and I soon became friends, playing together after school practically every day. We'd ride bicycles, kick a ball in the street and come up with many ridiculous and daft money-making schemes. When we reached drinking age we'd go out every Saturday night in town and have many daft drunken conversations.

The word legend is overused, but in Barry's case it is definitely warranted - even people who haven't met him know all about the things he used to do. He was a great friend to a great many people who will all miss him deeply. He was always the life and soul of any gathering and practically everyone has fond memories of him.

I have so much more I could write but can't really put it into words. Rest in peace Barry.