Eulogy.

I knew that today was coming down the track and there is a small part of me that wishes I could be sitting with you and listening to someone else talk about our friend but the truth is bigger part of me would have fought anybody for the right to stand here and represent Col, and speak about him on behalf of his beautiful family, and the very many friends who have gathered here today to pay their respects and celebrate his life. Like many of you I could talk for hours on end about Col but my role today is to talk a bit about his history and maybe tell some of you parts of his life that you didn’t know about. We are going to hear some beautiful and heartfelt personal tributes shortly so consider this as a sizeable starter to what you will hear from Paul, Ralph and Steve.

I have spent many hours in the company of Chris, Rekha and Ninds but visiting the family home to discuss this ceremony was probably the first time I have done so without Col being present. Whilst he wasn’t there physically he was present in the smiles, the laughter and the immense positivity that was in the room whilst we talked about him, and I hope I can convey a fraction of that positivity in what I am about to read.

Colin Barry arrived on the 3rd November 1960 and was the first of four children born to John and Kathy Barry alongside his sisters Lynne and Mandy and his brother Paul and the family lived in Binnie St on the edge of the city centre near to where the Royal Hospital is today. They moved from there for a spell in Ellesmere Port but it wasn’t Liverpool so they family came back and settled in Daneville Road, Liverpool 4, where John and Kathy still live today.

Col was a late arrival to St Matthews and started his education there in third year juniors and this is where he first met Chris when they were both pupils in Mr Powell’s class. Whilst they were both preparing for the all important 11+ exam that would follow a year later Col still found time to be an altar boy at St Matthews Church and would sometimes incur the wrath of Mr Powell for arriving late to class after fulfilling his duty on the altar.

From St Matthews Col went on to attend Campion in Shaw St, staying on to do A Level’s, but he didn’t remember his time at school very fondly apart from the good mates he made whilst there. He was on the fringes, and like many out there, he found the company of the others on the fringes more stimulating that those who may have been considered the in crowd. He hung out with lads who really were the cool gang like Bernie Connor, Joe Spiers and Ian Killen. The uniting force in their friendship would be their shared passion for music.

It was during this time that Col discovered running and discovered that he was very good at it and admitted more than once during his life that running “saved him”. Col was pretty wild in school, and full of energy, and to quote one of the gentlemen I have just named “He was a bit of a nutter” and the running was a way to divert his excess energy. It was an outlet where he could excel and show his prowess and discipline but it was also freedom. The open road and beyond was something that was a constant in his life.

It was whilst studying for their A Levels that Col and Chris got together. There were a few students who would gather at Norris Green Library to study and Col and Chris were among them and when the exams were over they celebrated with a few drinks at the Jolly Miller. Chris fancied Col but she had some competition from another girl and the competition would be decided by who he would ask to walk home. We all know who the winner was.

The first date was a gig by After The Fire in town and they walked there and walked home. It was followed by a pizza at Rooney’s on Hardman St and that became a regular Friday night out. Col was a cheap date at this time because he was running and therefore not drinking.

Apart from his passion for music Col was a keen geography student and had studied it at A level, wanting to pursue a career where he could further his geography education, but when the A level results came in he didn’t get the grade he was expecting and this led him to taking a job for the fire brigade. I’m sure we could all imagine Col legging it up ladders and running into burning buildings but his job was in the office, and not on the appliance, and rather than putting out fires, his job was in health and safety and making sure fires didn’t start. 

It would have been a steady job with decent prospects but being indoors was never going to be a good fit regardless of how promising the career may have been. Whilst not enjoying the job he did enjoy representing the fire brigade’s running team. Col had already represented Liverpool Harriers and had been running competitively and once that fire was lit it burned until he could run no more and even when he wasn’t competing he would often run to work. He was also encouraging his brother Paul who was running for St Eddie’s at the time and what started out as Col watching from the sidelines led to him running as an independent alongside his brother. He destroyed everyone.

The fire brigade was not going to be a career so Col applied for Harper Adams Agricultural College and went for an interview. It went well but the people at the college were a little bemused as to why a boy from the city wanted to be involved with farming and agriculture so before he was given a place he had to do a year's work on a farm. Chris said she saw this as the college testing Col to see if he had the necessary commitment for this type of career and he was sent to work on a farm with the Poulter family just outside Hereford. 

His lodgings on the farm was a shed. He’d wake in the mornings to milk the cows and would be breaking the ice on the taps before washing in freezing cold water but he stuck at it. In the beginning he wasn’t very fond of the family, and there was an element of town versus country, but there was a shift in the relationship after Col rescued a Hereford calf in a field. No one had known about the calf and it would have perished but for Col’s intervention and as a show of gratitude the Poulters gave the calf to Col who promptly named it “Herry”. He kept it but sold it back to the Poulters when he left the farm and began his time at Harper Adams. He would meet Steve whilst at Harper Adams so I’ll leave him to talk about except to say it was during this time that Col discovered that alcohol was big, and it was clever, and he would eventually leave with a degree in agriculture and farm management.

Col returned to Liverpool where he got a job at Croxteth Park Farm working alongside farm manager Bill whom he would eventually replace when Bill retired. Col and Chris lived on site in a cottage and had the butler and two chefs for neighbours. Chris said the cottage was beautiful but it was quite spooky at night and while they were both settled there they both had a desire to work abroad in a VSO program somewhere far from Croxteth. They both applied and were looking to be placed together somewhere which was initially proving quite difficult. Col got offered a post in Papua New Guinea but there was nothing for Chris. Then Chris got offered a post in Sierra Leone but there was nothing for Col but they eventually get a joint offer to go and work in Kenya and in 1987 they flew off to start their African adventure, a year after they had become man and wife following a ceremony at St Matthews.

In the beginning Col really didn’t like it but by the end of his time there he absolutely loved it. Of course, he got on with everyone despite being a Mzungu, the Swahili word for foreigner. He was one of few Mzungu who mixed with the natives and over time he got to know everyone, and was accepted all, from the workers alongside him to the top brass at the police and the mayor's office, and he was comfortable sinking a few Tuska beers with anyone regardless of rank or status. He was one of them despite his skin colour. No airs and graces, no imperialist coloniser, just a guy who wanted to do well and pass on what he had learned. I remember Col telling me that a small part of him wished he had stayed in Kenya because he felt he was really making a difference to people and helping them prosper and improve their lives and their land. 

Spending time and mixing, and drinking, with the locals meant he picked up the lingo and could converse well in Swahili, something that would be staggering and amusing in equal measure when he eventually returned home and would get in a cab with an African cab driver. They would be blown away by a white man who not only knew about their country, and their land, but could also speak in their tongue. Of course, Col also knew all about their music and the artists who were from their region.

We all know about Col’s passion for African music and this is a passion that was born in Kenya. So how did the punk rocker from Liverpool fall in love with Afrobeat? Well Chris said it didn’t start well. They would often travel by bus and the on board entertainment would be little tinny speakers playing the local music. Col was not impressed. On one journey he almost had to be held back by Chris from ripping the speaker off the side of the bus and slinging it out the window. Maybe he was suffering the effects of a few Tuskas from the night before but he wasn’t in the mood to listen to it. Eventually he came around to it and the love for the music that started on those bus journeys, and elsewhere in Kenya, stayed with him throughout his life.

When he returned to Liverpool he subscribed to Songlines magazine which always had a free CD containing music from all over the world and if something caught his ear he would head into town to News From Nowhere, or sometimes HMV, and see if he could find any other output by that particular artist. Col had always had an open ear and would give anything a spin but his love of African music spread right across the continent, and the world, and exposed him to many artists. His massive cd collection is a testament to his eclectic taste and knowledge of a variety of genres.

The African adventure came to a close when Chris returned home to give birth to Rekha and the patter of her tiny feet was heard in December 1989. Rehka spent her first few months living in her Nan and Grandad’s house in Daneville while Col was looking for work which was proving to be difficult. His work and many achievements in Kenya were not given the respect they were due by prospective employers so rather than sit on his laurels waiting for something to come up he enrolled to do a degree in conservation but even with another qualification the job front was still not bearing fruit.

The family moved from Daneville when they got their own place in Craigside Avenue and in 1994 the patter of tiny feet was heard again when Nindz arrived. Chris said they all have great memories of their time in Craigside and the lovely neighbours they had there. The home was a terraced house in a cul de sac and as such the neighbours were always close and hanging out in the street for a chat and a catch up and it was a nice close knit community. As much as they loved it there the arrival of Nindz meant they needed more space and that prompted the move to Blackmoor Drive in 1998 and that remains the family home today.

By the time the family moved to Blackmoor Drive Col was well into his stride in a new job. His friend Martina spotted an advert for a vacancy for a farm manager at Rice Lane City Farm and he applied and got the job. Col loved working on the farm, and loved working alongside his colleague Denise, and between them they developed the farm, introducing rare breeds, applying for funding and grants, and the farm went from strength to strength. The educational side was developed, and work experience programmes were introduced, and Col spent many happy years working there until he was sadly made redundant but he had seen the writing on the wall and had already sown the seeds of what would become Rice Lane Landscapes.

Col hit the ground running with the new venture and even though he had some business cards printed up they were never required because the work came in via word of mouth and business was booming. The workforce expanded to cope with the expansion of the client list, and what started out as a company doing domestic gardens became a business handling large contracts for both the council and the NHS until Col’s diagnosis and subsequent treatment forced him to stop. Col was successful because he was fair, he was a man of his word, he always did a good job, he delivered on what he promised and never let anyone down. Everyone here will know and testify to those qualities and it was no surprise to anyone that the business was successful and his services were very much in demand.

So that is a little potted history of Col but I would like to talk about some of his passions and I have to begin with music. Col had always been passionate about music but when he started going to Eric’s it really opened his eyes and his ears. Being a few years older than myself, and his brother Paul, he would regale us with tales of the bands he saw in that sweaty basement in Mathew St. Chris remembered him raving about a young Irish combo he’d seen supporting Joy Division, saying they were going to go on to bigger and better things. That band was U2. He saw all of those great bands, some multiple times.

Col’s passion infused into us and soon we would be attending the Saturday matinee gigs for under 18s. I have to give Col huge thanks for turning me on to so much great music beginning with Magazine, who were the first band I saw at Eric’s. He was pretty scathing of some of the music we were listening to and anything that was partially smelly, like Genesis Or Zeppelin, was deemed “shite”. I remember him coming in to the living room in Daneville and removing the ELO record on the music centre and replacing it with The Mekons before running out into the kitchen and returning with a pan under his arm which he proceeded to bang along to the unholy row that was coming out of the speakers.

Col had a massively broad taste and loved attending gigs and when he would tell me he had been to a gig I would honestly have no idea who he had been to see. It could be the Peatbog Faeries, Chemical Brothers, Kraftwerk, Culture, Baba Maal, The Stranglers and that’s just six of possibly six hundred I could have chosen.

Col was a Liverpool fanatic but he loved all sports. He once told his son in law Ally that he loved Liverpool Football Club but didn’t like football and, given the way the game has gone in recent years, his passion was no doubt diminishing as the game has been taken away from the man in the street and been given to corporates and tourists. Col had a season ticket and before he went to Kenya he gave it up and upon his return it took him about six years to get another one but during that time he would go whenever he could get a ticket.  

Tales of trekking through Istanbul trying to find some beer and being followed by a load of kids. Returning to the Attaturk with two trays of ale and leaving one in the left luggage and finding it was still there at the end. Crowd surfing when the equaliser went in. He was a fan of that, and had done it a few times on the Kop, and had injured himself doing so on a few occasions. I remember texting him when he was in Barcelona to watch the Reds. I asked how it was. He replied. “Gassed. High up” and I guess I should talk about Col’s reluctance to engage with mobile phones and texts as he would have preferred to have not used either. I did get a few words from him which I believe is more than most of his family ever received. His standard reply to them was “FAB”. I remember he had been the match on a Sunday and gone back home after being “overserved”, or “ballooned” as Chris put it, and kicking off the Sunday ritual of “Col’s Kitchen Disco”. I got a text: “Augustus Pablo. Chris not impressed. Red card”

Col loved Rugby more than football and had enjoyed a few trips to Dubai with Ian and Andy to watch the sevens. Watching rugby in The Fly In The Loaf was a ritual and there was always a space reserved up the back for the rugby heads. If there was no rugby there would be some cricket to watch. 

The Fly In The Loaf and The Dispensary were favourite places where Col could indulge one of his other passions. Real ale. He never convinced me, despite trying, and when he had to give up drinking it and switch to lager it wasn’t ideal and he found that he didn’t have the same tolerance for lager. He’d never been a big drinker in his youth and he only started drinking real ale when he came back from Kenya. I will never order someone a White Rat without thinking of him.

Col loved walking in Scotland and climbing parts of it. He was never happier than when he was up there either with his family, or on his own enjoying a bit of “Colitude”. Drop him at the bottom of a mountain and he was off. His brother Paul called him a “Mountain Goat”. It wasn’t just the great outdoors and a good walk in fantastic scenery, it was also a test of his ability to be out there doing it and challenging himself. I believe the expression is “Bagging Monros” and upon reaching the top you can tick that mountain off your list.

He loved the Gabbro rock of the Alps and the same rock is found in Skye and that was one of his favourite places to visit. I believe Skye’s the only part of the British Isles that has this type of igneous rock. Downside of climbing these rocks is that they are very rich in iron and can render your compass useless and Rekha said “He never got lost. Well, not much”. He would go off on his own in January with his crampons and walk through snow. He loved that time on his own and the walks and climbs were always worth the fantastic views at the summit. When he returned you could see the joy and exhilaration in his face.

All the family adventures were not just on foot though, there were many cycling holidays and they had cycled all over the UK, and taken in cycling trips abroad with a memorable and notable one being a trip along the Danube. Offa’s Dyke Pass and the West Highland Way were trips that created memories that will last long into the future.

Col was straight up. A fair man with an opinion on what is right and what is wrong. A man who was steadfast in his opinion but remained open to the opinions of others. A man of his word, a man of character and substance, a man you could rely on and someone who would never let you down. His left learning politics reflected his sense of justice and fair play and his principles were a big part of who he was and they were not for sale.

I am going to close by talking about Col’s biggest passion. His family, or the girls as they are known to most of us. Being the only man in the house meant he often pointed his finger, throwing out accusations that they were ganging up on him, accusing Rehka and Nindz of siding with Chris leading him to trot out a familiar refrain: “I am in charge”. He wasn’t.

His daughters talked about the late night phone calls from him. As a kid these were the calls you wanted to receive. “Girls, d’ya want any chips? Or a pizza? Or some Chicken Wings” and the hunter gatherer would come home bearing edible gifts. Some were not edible with examples being sunglasses, waterproofs and puffer jackets that had been acquired nefariously via “The Halton Castle Catalogue”.

Upon arriving back in the house the kitchen disco would start and he would stick his head around the living room door and say “Girls, come and listen to this!”. Their education went beyond his music taste and when they would be out walking in Scotland he would be pointing out trees and birds along the route. Both Col’s and Chris’s love of nature and the outdoors has been passed on to their girls.

When Nindz started running cross country he’d often run alongside, telling her to go faster, and when she’d tell him her race times he would compare them to his own at that age and was never impressed, always pushing and encouraging her to do better. Both girls have a serious competitive streak that they have inherited from their Dad.

When Rehka got her exam results Col was more impressed about her passing another grade in her clarinet rather than her A level grades. “Your Mum and our Paul have got enough A levels for everyone in this family but we haven’t got a clarinetist!”

Strangers who didn’t know him, would’t know that inside that earthy farmer's exterior was a heart of gold encased in jelly. He was a softy. You cannot be surrounded by animals for a large part of your life without being a bit of a softy. He had a sensitive side that was not on display to everyone but it was to his family and close friends. He was a man of contrast. The dancing, air guitar playing nutcase in the kitchen was also the same man who was never happier than when there was a track in front of him, and an unknown adventure ahead. 

I really could talk for hours about Col but I will stop now and give someone else a chance to share their memories. I am not going to talk about Col’s death because that is not how he will be remembered. He will be remembered with smiles, laughter and happy memories by all whose lives he enriched with his love, friendship and inspiration and when people leave here, and go off to raise a glass to him, and when they tell stories about him in the future, their words will always fall from lips that are smiling, just like they were when I met with his lovely family. I don’t think there is a person here who would not want to be remembered like that.

Colin Barry. Much loved son and big brother and uncle, adoring husband, doting dad and my mate. The salt of the earth is lighter without him.