Today I attended a moving service for Simon Cottrell at Maryhill Crematorium.
Simon died suddenly a few days ago. 47 years is no age.
I got to know him when he and his great mate Zac and me backed Laura Cantrell for some UK/Eire shows a few years ago.
He was a good bassist and harmony singer and he was a lovely, mellow, fun, sweet-natured person to be around.
(I also worked with Simon and Zac on some recordings for a film soundtrack for composer Max Richter. I can't remember if we did one day or two in a studio in Glasgow. We were looking forward to seeing the final film but Richter's work was subsequently given the elbow so that Clint Eastwood could do the score...)
After one run of Laura Cantrell gigs, Simon and I were driving the hired van up home to Glasgow from somewhere in England. It was quite late at night. Rainy and dark - somewhere in the midlands.
Simon pulled over when he saw a man next to a parked lorry on the motorway hard shoulder, waving and seemingly in distress. We got out of the van and walked up to the man who told us in a kind of daze that he'd just found out that his daughter had died. I didn't know what to say or do but Simon instinctively threw his arms around him and held him saying, "Oh you poor man".
We waited until company arrived - the police and also the lorry driver's employer - then continued our journey back up the road
Simon leaves Jana his partner of 10 years, his son Woody and other family and friends.
What can you say.