Bounding across the room he came. Like a gamboling puppy or a mischevious sprite. There was always something of Puck in him and his lolling gait, an untouchable grace that didn't fit with the rest of him. The lock of hair that falls in his eyes was impossible to reconcile with such feline elegance, nor the stripy arthouse jumper or the skateboarding shoes.
He was unassuming, unoticable for so long. The quietness made him seem alone in a crowd. But it is written the truth will set you free, and with him it did. Underneath what is given first was a seam of rich humour and wit like finding coal to warm the world in your back garden. A clever, well read mind burnt energy furiously and created a silliness that broke the awkwardness of before.
It was the generosity that struck me the most. The willingness to give what little or much he had. Time, money or a shoulder were always readily available. And are always greatly appreciated. Greatly appreciated.