Mungo Park and You

Dear Chris

I didn’t know how to mark 7th February this year, the 14th anniversary of you leaving for Africa. I had hoped, after last year’s rather miraculous proof of you still being alive, that I’d not have to mark this odious time of year ever again. But there you go.

Should I write a poem, paint a picture, rant and rave or decide to throw in the towel? To be honest, I can’t be bothered to do any of the above because I know you’re still alive and probably reading this. So, what should I do..?

To be brief and to the point. I believe in you. I know you are still alive. I want you to get in touch.

Do I need to persuade you?

Okay. You are just like Mungo Park (your inspiration) and like Mungo you are going to miraculously appear when everyone thinks you’re dead and long gone after being in Africa, without word, for so long.

I’m here to prove that you’re like Mungo and will appear, just as he did.

1. You look reasonably alike, although he was a blue-eyed boy and you are brown- eyed (see above).
2. You both left to follow the River Niger in your twenties.
3. You have always been drawn to Africa (probably since Willard Price’s African Adventure!) and Mungo felt the same pull to the unexplored continent. He also grew up on a farm.
4. Both of you studied at Edinburgh University – medicine and biological sciences (zoology).
5. Mungo wanted more from life than being a surgeon in a small Scottish parish; you have always wanted adventure, too.
6. You followed in Mungo’s footprints (see maps), nearly 200 years after Mungo’s first African trip.
7. Mungo was thought to be dead after two years, seven months in Africa, and you too are dead (in most people’s eyes) having never come back after 14 years in Africa.

There is no point 8; which would have rounded this list off nicely with an even number. But life isn’t like that, is it. There are rough edges, wild goose-chases, red herrings and false starts. Shit happens. Disaster strikes.

But you and Mungo are made of the same stuff. Strong, bullish, defying the odds, good with people, empathetic to others’ suffering. He was a physician, and you once looked after young people who turned to you for support, love, hope and as a friend.

You are two peas in a pod, you and Mungo.

Chris, do a Mungo and appear to me after all these years. You yourself wrote this:

“To have endured the hardships he [Mungo] did and to have survived in such harsh country after several encounters with bandits who left him destitute, he must have been very tough both mentally and physically. Amazingly, after four months imprisonment by the Moors of Ludamar, he escaped with nothing but a pocket compass, a horse and the clothes he stood up in, and continued his mission to find the river regardless. Obviously, his desire to complete his mission was very strong. He found the river but soon found that the obstacles that lay ahead were insurmountable. After having advanced a short way eastward, he gave a very moving account of his painful decision to turn back. “Worn down with sickness, exhausted with hunger and fatigue, half naked and without any article of value by which I might procure provisions, clothes or lodgings, I began to reflect seriously on my situation”. With the rainy season setting in, his realization that most inhabitants to the east spoke a language which he could not understand and worried that he was advancing ever further within the power of “those merciless fanatics” (the Moors) he pleaded with the reader to understand his decision.

On the positive side, Mungo also received much kindness and hospitality from many of the people he met along the way. In the end, it was this kindness which enabled him to survive so long and eventually make a safe, but by no means easy return to the coast with a coffle (caravan) of slaves about a year after his departure, when many people had already given him up for dead. His admiration and respect for the black African is beyond doubt but unfortunately, he never openly condemned the slave trade. This may be because he wanted to avoid the possibility of upsetting some of his sponsors but could be because he believed that with the scale of the trade as it was in Africa at the time, that abolition would have little effect on their society. What he did do though, was to impress on people that Africans share the same human qualities as Europeans and are really not so different.”

You and Mungo have shared such a similar journey… even the lady who saw you and talked to you and gave you money in Accra, Ghana (you were destitute, ill and begging by the traffic lights in 2005) lives with her Scottish husband less than 10 miles from where Mungo was born in Selkirk. I honestly couldn’t make that story up! You and Mungo are linked, there is no denying it. Everyone will understand the decisions you’ve made, as they understood Mungo’s.

I truly believe in you. I know you can come back from the dead, like Mungo. I know you are alive and I can’t wait to see you again.

Call me. Or if that is too far a leap, please get someone to call on your behalf.

Or you can call the following numbers on the appeal posters — leave a message with a go-between:

All I want to know is that you are alive. The rest can follow, in private, at your pace.

All my love

Han

xxx

Get in touch, Chris... 18th April 2016

I'll be loving you always.... the final hunt is on.

The search for Christian (Chris) is in The Times today, appropriately on page 13, 13 years (well 2 days early) since we last heard from Chris - which was 23rd March when he phoned Mum and Dad from a little hut outside Kita, Mali, to wish them both Happy Birthday'. 

Please share this as wide as you can... especially in Africa and Europe (especially France). 

I've got Steve Wonder playing non-stop today... sending out those good vibes to my little bro:

As around the sun the earth knows she's revolving 

And the rosebuds know to bloom in early May 

Just as hate knows love's the cure 

You can rest your mind assure 

That I'll be loving you always 

As now can't reveal the mystery of tomorrow 

But in passing will grow older every day 

Just as all is born is new 

Do know what I say is true 

That I'll be loving you always....

Searching For Chris Velten - Facebook

FYI

There is a new campaign page on Facebook where I'm posting the latest updates on the search for Chris: https://www.facebook.com/searchforchrisvelten/

See you there!

Development....

Only this week, I put the attached image of my brother (with an anaconda in the West Indies) out on Facebook and received a response I never expected - this image was recognised, by a well-known Kenyan radio personality and wildlife conservationist, as being used as a Facebook profile image or on the profile page two or three years ago. 

I first posted this image in November 2014 on my business blog, having only just found it when I plucked up the nerve to log-on to Chris' computer, which had not been touched for at least 10 years. Before that time, Chris would NOT have had access to this image. I wonder - does anyone else recognise this image of Chris? He is more than likely using a different name. 

We are desperate to find him. Knowing Chris, before he left for Africa, there is no way that he would ignore his family - he was a seasoned traveller and would always keep in regular contact. Something is keeping him from getting in contact - if he's copied the image then he most certainly knows we're still searching fo him. There could be many reasons for him not coming forward… his mental/physical state, being stopped from coming forward, anxiety about getting in touch after so long, having to face the music, etc. 

Please be assured, if you do know Chris, we only want to know he’s still alive so we can come out of this nightmare limbo. Please, please, if you recognise Chris, or know him, please get in touch…

What would Chris look like now? Our ideas...

He won't look this clean-shaven now, but this was my brother, Christian (Chris) Velten, 13(ish) years ago... just in case anyone recognises him! And his planned route through West Africa. We last heard from him on 23 March 2003 outside Kita, Mali and the last confirmed sighting of him was in April 2003 in Bamako, Mali.

Although 40, he will probably look 50! Probably greying, with receding hair. Being European, in Africa for 13 years, he will probably be suffering from bouts of malaria and may have missing teeth, walk with a lip, sport a beard and look more Arabic than Western. All in all, he will look so different. He might be amongst the mass of refugees currently in Europe, or he may still be in Africa...

Saturday Live: The Final Push?

Hello everyone

I’ve got something I’d like you to help me with - it involves positive thoughts… much like our ‘circle’ of positive thoughts at Chris’ 40th party.

Rather bizarrely, I’m going to be on 'Saturday Live' this Saturday morning on BBC Radio 4 (9am -10.30am). 
I never normally listen to the show as I’m usually in a swimming pool with the children, but on 16th January, Freya had a cold, and we stayed at home. 
On the show that morning was a girl called ‘Claire’ from LostBox, talking about reuniting lost things with their owners, and the explorer, Levison Wood, who we were watching on TV travelling through the Himalayas. 
In my mind, I connected the two to create - Lost Explorer. And you all know who that is… 
So, I immediately wrote an email to the show along the lines of ‘I haven’t a clue why I’m writing to you, but I know I have to...’ and explained about our lost explorer. 
I heard nothing and forgot about it. 

Out of the blue, the producer emails me on 28th January - could she talk to me. So she rang… 

We talked about Christian, our hope that he’s still alive, what he was like, what he was doing out in Africa, when we last heard from him, how do we cope day-to-day with his loss and then onto my work as a memoir ghostwriter, funeral director writer-in-residence and the importance of recording live stories, etc. 

After we’d exhausted every topic, she said, “We’d love you to come on the show. When we have a good mix of guests for you to appear with, I’ll call you.” 

(You’ll love this next bit, Rob W) She called me back on 25th February - could I be at the studio on 5th March? I will be appearing as ‘Hannah Velten’ (my maiden name), just to confuse many of you!

As most of you will know, I’m absolutely convinced that Christian is going to turn up (so is Mum) and I think this MIGHT just be the final push that’s needed to get him home - in my mind, the positive ‘circle’ was the start of that journey. 

So, I’d basically like you all to get those positive ‘Come home, Chris/Chrissie/Relts/Christian’ thoughts and prayers going while I’m on air - there are 4 guests, so I will be dipping in and out of the conversations. It will be emotional, so Grant is going to be coming with me (thank you, Sharon, for making that possible), but I hope someone somewhere listening will hold the key we need. Christian won’t be anything like the man who left for Africa, but having him home, in whatever state, will be better than this limbo hell. 

Many thanks to you all and lots of love
Hannah x

P.S Please do pass this on to anyone else who you feel might like to join in with the positive vibes.

Happy 40th Birthday, Chris

Hello, Darlin' 

Happy 40th Birthday! Can't believe you're so bloody old (I know I'm a year old than you, but I still can't believe my ickle bro is 40!)

We had a party for you on Sunday, which, I agree, was a bit of a mad thing to do without you there. But we felt it was the right time. Loads of family and friends came from far and wide to Bodle Street Green. 

Below are some pic from the day: your first 40 years in pictures... 

It rained in the morning, so we feared the worst. I have to admit we were dreading the day, but the weather cleared up; the food was great, as was the vibe. We felt so much support and love from everyone there, for us, and most importantly for you.

This is us before the party got going... I don't think we look any different after 12 years - do we? (Cameron, Freya and Evie aren't in shot.)

The soundtrack to the day - your favourites, as chosen by me, from your cassette collection: http://open.spotify.com/user/1180454785/playlist/0lmKtPWzkEs2I3shmtgIF5

At lunch, I sat with the Howards and Al Smith and family - Bertie was entertainer for the day! 

Those at the party (in no particular order and many with their families): Ben, Daimer and Jo, Sam and Minette, Vix, Lydia, Sophie, Wooddy, Emma, Andre, Jo, Catty, Nick B, Matthew, Gerry, Alistair, Ramsay, Hester, James, Nick O, Hans & Tricia, Bettina & Jonathan, Laura, Bridget, Liz, Dana, Lesley & Tony, Chris, Mikki & Georgie..... so many also wanted to be there, but couldn't be. 

A snapshot of the day - other friends are outside enjoying the sunshine. This was just before my speech... the children were lined up waiting for Bertie's magic show to start. 

Actually, the kids had to endure my speech/toast before they got Bertie! Here's what I said:

"The last time we were as a family in a marquee in the garden was at my wedding, to Grant, nearly five years ago to the day. Unlike a wedding, there’s no conventions to follow for the ‘sister of the brother missing his birthday party’ speech. So I will do what feels right. 

I’d like to say a few ‘thank you’s before toasting Christian. 

Firstly, to Mum and Dad for agreeing to holding this party. When I first mentioned it they were reluctant, to say the least, but I was able to persuade them that if we didn’t do it now, on Chris’ 40^th birthday, we more than likely never would. 

Secondly, to Bertie. Without him this party would never have happened. Mum would only agree to do this if Bertie could come, “otherwise it would be just too depressing,” she said. Thankfully, his diary was free, and here we are. 

Thirdly, a very personal thank you. I’d like to thank from [cue tears and deep breaths] the bottom of my heart all of Chris’ friends for helping Mum and Dad in the early months of Chris’ disappearance. I was stuck down in Cornwall, pretty unaware of the emotional turmoil which was playing out.  I’d also like to thank Mum and Dad’s friends for supporting them - without everyone here my family could well have been torn apart by what’s happened 

[Uncle Chris appears out of the audience to come and stand next to me and offer his support - he tells me to, kindly, get on with it.

It’s only then that I registered the children in front of me. They were still seated on the chairs set out for Bertie’s magic show. They were transfixed, I guess, by the sight of me in tears. Their ages ranged from 2 to 8 (Harley Smith, bless her, the youngest at only 8 months old, was seated on the table watching attentively). I could see my darling boy and girl looking worried. All I could do was smile at them and continue…] 

So [pulling myself together], I’d like to tell you a story about things lost and found. 

This picture tells a story [pointing to Jimmy Hendrix, hanging to the side of me]. Chris painted the picture as a wall decoration for a joint party we had when we were about 16. After the party it was hung over his bed in his bedroom and that’s where it stayed until he left for Africa. 

When we were talking about decorations for the party I said to M&D, “Where’s that Jimmy Hendrix painting?”

“Oh, when the potential buyer came to look round Mottynsden [the last house Chris lived in], his son particularly loved it, so I said if his father bought the house, I’d leave the painting behind for him.” 

“What? So it’s still at Mottynsden?”

“Well, maybe - if they’ve kept it for 12 years.” Mum looked doubtful and Dad even more so. 

“They won’t have it,” he said. “They’d have chucked it out years ago.” 

But I determined to write a letter to the new owner [we knew it was still his second home] to see if 1) they still had it, and 2) could we have it back. 

The next day I sent the letter, hardly expecting a reply, let alone a positive one. But three weeks later, we got the reply we could hardly believe… and here it is, repaired by Dad and looking great. I can’t wait to hang it on my wall at home!

The other object I want to tell you about is a book [I’d left the book on the table at the other end of the marquee so had to retrieve it]. I’m currently writing a book about Christian, which Mum wanted me to do. Because Grant and I ghostwrite and produce memoirs for people, I’d always wanted to get Chris’ life story down. Finally, after four years of non-stop projects, we’ve got a lull so I’m taking the opportunity now - my agent is currently touting the proposal and sample chapters round the London publishers. Anyway, during my research, I looked through Chris’ things (which are still kept in the room above the garage) and couldn’t find this book about Mungo Park which I’d remembered him showing me before he’d left for Africa. He’d said, “You should read this - you’ll understand what I’m so excited about.” I could remember he’d annotated the book with some thoughts and underlined certain passages. Like the painting, it felt crucial to have it back in my hands. 

I looked through my bookcases, looking for the tell-tale blue book spine I had remembered. Blank. I got M&D to turn their bookcases upside-down, too. Blank. I said to Grant, “It must be here then; there’s no where else it could be.” I searched very carefully this time; reading every book spine. And bingo! Scots’ Lives: Mungo Park (Mark Duffill) with a maroon book spine - not a blue on. 

So, one thing we found after 12 years: something we didn’t think possible. 

Another thing found which had eluded us all, even though we’d searched high and low.

Of course, you can guess what I/we hope will be the third lost thing we find… 

Before I go any further, I’d like to explain what I’d like everyone to do after we’ve toasted Christian. 

When I was making the playlist for the party I went through all of his cassettes to find his favourite artists and songs. While listening in the car to the mix I’d made, on a long journey to the National Funeral Exhibition (a long story), I’d had a vision of us all here, holding hands in a circle, while Lenny Kravitz’s ‘Let Love Rule’ was playing. I remember Chris playing it over and over again while he tried to get the notes and rhythm on his base guitar; it seems the only music to play. So it feels right to ask you in a minute to join together and send positive thoughts to Chris and will him to come home. For whatever reason, we still think he’s out there on his way home, just not with any urgency - he probably doesn’t even realise the grief he’s been causing! 

So, please let’s toast my brother Christian, or Chris, or Chrissy, or Relts…. We miss you so much, please come home soon."

Then I played this.... http://open.spotify.com/track/2pmN85k5m9nO1rWaCDdrNE 

Everyone joined in a circle, even the children - it was complete AND perfect. I hope you felt the vibes. Actually, there was one person missing from the circle - Uncle Tony, who got locked in the toilet, but that's another story (remind me to tell you about the balloon dog called Biscuit, too).

Please, please come home - we all miss you and love you from the bottom of our hearts. Life just isn't the same without you and even though we're bloody angry you've been away for more than 12 years, WE WANT YOU HOME. xxxxxx

HAPPY BIRTHDAY - enjoy the day, wherever you are ...... 

Your big sis, Han xxxxxx

Boxing and Africa - Two Great Loves

From: Nick Blackford

I shared a flat with Chris in the 2nd year of Edinburgh, and have many happy memories. 

You probably know that he was quite keen on boxing. What you might not know is that I watched him go toe-to-toe with a guy who went on that year to win the British Universities Championship for his weight. The battle only stopped when Chris twisted his ankle. We all knew something special was going on as the rest of us in the boxing gym stopped what we were doing to watch, something which had never happened before or since. 

He inspired me to carry on boxing after Uni, and I went on to box on and off for 15 years... on the rare nights that I did well, buzzing with excitement, I would think of Chris and how pleased he would be. Likewise when things were not going so well in ring, I would imagine him telling me to stop running away and get stuck in. 

******

 

Back in 1996 (or 1997) I was lucky enough to spend a wonderful summer with Chris, Rick Laird and Venetia Wingfield travelling around South Africa, Zimbabwe, Botswana and Namibia. We had a wonderful time, going on amazing safaris and travelling through landscapes that seemed out of this world. I have copied some photos using my iPhone...

This first photo is of Chris and Vinnie climbing what was apparently the biggest sand dune in the world, Dune 7, Sossusvlei in the Namib desert. The sand was so hot it burnt your skin when touched, I think Chris went up either barefoot or in flip flops.

This photo is of Chris after a large meal in Chobe National park in Botswana. He and I shared a tent. One evening was very memorable: there were lions nearby having a row, it sounded like they were right outside the entrance. Apparently they won't attack a tent if the zip is done up...

There were also a lot of elephants about... 

This one was also from Chobe National Park in Botswana. It was the end of the dry season, but the rains had not yet come. Our camp site had a hose pipe, and this elephant wanted us to turn it on. We took it in turns to see who could get closest. Chris won by quite a margin. The rangers did not let us give the elephant water, they did not want to encourage them visiting the campsite. 

Both of these photos were taken in Sossusvlei, in Namibia. We had rented a tiny white Mazda in Windhoek and driven across the Namib desert to get there. The car was given the nickname Marjory-Motherfucker, a joint creative collaboration between Vinnie and Chris. 

Final photo! This one is of Chris and Rick Laird in a place called Chimanimani in Zimbabwe. We climbed up a mountain all day long to reach a giant plateau at the top of which was a game park where we spent a lovely couple of days camping. A very special place indeed. 
 

Like a Rangatang Dancing On a Cloud

From Charles (Charlie) Adams - Chris' friend from Edinburgh University. 

Your Dear Brother Chris and I met while he was at Edinburgh University. We used to go together sometimes to nights at the Messenger (Reggae) Sound System club night played at the Bongo Club in Edinburgh.

I would have written to you before if I had known about his blog... I only found it yesterday through a FB contact, a mutual friend from Uni days.  His blog, by the way, is beautifully written and describes him so very well. I am so happy to read the memories of him and I know that his soul and spirit continues to live within those closest to him.  

It is also lovely to have seen a picture of him, exactly how I remember Chris. A handsome man, with a unique chin, charming, gentle, kind, humourous and easy-going, with a big warm heart and free-spirited soul. A man who was a great mover and groover on the Reggae dance floor. Those days were such fun and I am so happy that I experienced my Reggae dancing, clubing days with your Bro.  Fond memories that will never die. I could always rely on him to say yes when I called him to ask whether he was up for joining me to go to the Bongo club. I would have loved to have met him again and often think of him. Maybe we will meet in another world. 

When your Brother went missing strangely enough I was working in the French Alps and one day I came off the mountain and walked into one of the cafes where I came across a UK newspaper - I think it may have been The Daily Mail. As I had not seen the papers for months and was cut off from what was happening back at home (no bad thing), I picked the newspaper up off the table to have a peek at what was happening outside my 'Mountain Bubble'. The first page I opened I could not believe what I saw and read. It was the story about Chris and the news of him going missing. It came as such a shock. 

I am so sorry not to have been in touch as I lost contact with quite a few old friends from Uni days. I was very happy to have made friends with your Brother while he was studying at Edinburgh. I often think of him and when I listen to some reggae tracks that remind me of the days of the Bongo Club I smile and think of your Brother as we used to enjoy dancing to our Reggae and Dub beats. I have to say your Bro had some of the best moves on the dance floor. That makes me happy when I think about it... arms swinging in the air like a Rangatang dancing on a cloud, with his feet stomping to the beat in rhythm to his swinging arms and soul playing :) 

I can still picture him in my mind when I go back to those days.

You guys must miss him so much and by heart feels for you and your family. I know that you will keep his spirit alive and the fond memories of him will never die. One day we will meet him again, it may not be in this world but it will be in another life and I look forward to that. His memories and sparkle lives on like the bright North Star. He will always twinkle, as his eyes always did, and his unique character (one in a million) made so many smile when in his fun company.

Hannah, I would like to tribute this poem to your Dearest Brother as I think there are quite a few characteristics in there that describe him well; his beat carries on within his family and all those who were lucky enough to have met him and got to know him.

God bless.

Charlie 

XX 

Dis Poetry  

BENJAMIN ZEPHANIAH

Dis poetry is like a riddim dat drops
De tongue fires a riddim dat shoots like shots
Dis poetry is designed fe rantin
Dance hall style, big mouth chanting,
Dis poetry nar put yu to sleep
Preaching follow me
Like yu is blind sheep,
Dis poetry is not Party Political
Not designed fe dose who are critical.
Dis poetry is wid me when I gu to me bed
It gets into me dreadlocks
It lingers around me head
Dis poetry goes wid me as I pedal me bike
I’ve tried Shakespeare, respect due dere
But did is de stuff I like.

Dis poetry is not afraid of going ina book
Still dis poetry need ears fe hear an eyes fe hav a look
Dis poetry is Verbal Riddim, no big words involved
An if I hav a problem de riddim gets it solved,
I’ve tried to be more romantic, it does nu good for me
So I tek a Reggae Riddim an build me poetry,
I could try be more personal
But you’ve heard it all before,
Pages of written words not needed
Brain has many words in store,
Yu could call dis poetry Dub Ranting
De tongue plays a beat
De body starts skanking,
Dis poetry is quick an childish
Dis poetry is fe de wise an foolish,
Anybody can do it fe free,
Dis poetry is fe yu an me,
Don’t stretch yu imagination
Dis poetry is fe de good of de Nation,
Chant,
In de morning
I chant
In de night
I chant
In de darkness
An under de spotlight,
I pass thru University
I pass thru Sociology
An den I got a dread degree
In Dreadfull Ghettology.
Dis poetry stays wid me when I run or walk
An when I am talking to meself in poetry I talk,
Dis poetry is wid me,
Below me an above,
Dis poetry’s from inside me
It goes to yu
WID LUV.

From Clare Walker

My name is Clare, and I was a girlfriend of your brother Christian before he left to travel to the Caribbean for the second time, researching for the book he was writing.

We met when we both worked at Ticehurst Hospital - a summer working on the acute adolescent unit pulled us together somewhat! I always remember the 12 hour shifts when I worked with Chris went much faster than when he wasn't working! Chris wooed me with his handstands and cartwheels and relaxed reggae approach to life... Ha! Funny, I still have a heart he and a really wild teenage patient made out of beads, hanging in my kitchen! Chris has such a relaxing effect on those kids

I remember feeling so very nervous whilst also feeling so chuffed when Chris decided to invite me to meet his family. He loved you and his family very much, I recall. I remember feeling so lucky to be allowed in for a weekend, and treasured being allowed into his life like that; seeing his home, meeting home friends, and him sharing things like his CD collection, and photos that meant so much to him. Despite being so laid back on appearance, I also found him quite hard to work out emotionally - honestly, I was totally smitten with Chris and was ever so heartbroken when he left to go travelling. But that was part of the attraction, really... His love of travelling, the commitment to his project (he came even more alive when he was talking flowers, fauna and animals), as well as his steadfast determinedness to finish what he'd started. I admired him so much and felt so sad to see him go.

When I think back to those days there are some funny memories which might make you smile:

1) His long shorts that used to hang off his backside!

2) His reggae hair - he made me a tape of his favourite reggae music and I still have it!

3) The fact that he was far too old, but travelled everywhere by a battered old bike

4) Broccoli. I always think of him with a smile when I cook it. For Chris always cooked it completely whole! Still makes me chuckle.

It's probably over ten years ago now that our lives crossed, and my memory isn't what it was! But when I think of Chris it is always, always with a smile….

… I saw my best friend last night – Liz – who knew Chris well from our uni days. Liz reminded me of another Chris fact - that he used to love Opal Fruits (Star Bursts now!) and would eat them one at a time, still fully wrapped in their waxy paper. It made us giggle to remember so I promised to share it with you!

'What makes Chris happy' - 1992

From: Alex B. Davis (Christian's friend from Chaterhouse)

I found a list that Chris and I filled out on my 1992 trip to visit Charterhouse [when Christian was 17 years old].

"What makes Chris happy"

1. Daydreaming.

2. Sleeping.

3. Getting to one's goal.

4. Making friends.

5. Get togethers - parties with friends.

6. Holidays.

7. Seeing old mates after a long time.

8. Falling in love.

9. Sport - succeeding/excelling.

10. Being able to relax completely and be carefree.

11. Finishing large academic project.

12. Coming home from school, leaving school grounds.

13. Feeling free.

14. Shopping.

15. Reminiscing.

16. Listening to music.

17. Drawing.

18. Understanding.

19. Eating.

20. Sexuality.

21. Dancing.

22. Dangerousness... having done dangerous things.

23. Falling aspleep after serious physical exertion.

24. Laying in bath after long day with nice cold drink listening to music.

25. Wearing new clothes for first time.

26. Being with family.

27. Being with certain girls at school.

28. Getting approval or recognition for what you've done.

29. Succeeding.

30. Compliments.

31. Health.

 

Pretty exhaustive I know, but I guess that's all we had to talk about that summer!

I think of him often. I have done so much with my life and I feel that if I was to check out tomorrow I would have no regrets about what I have accomplished. I have three kids now (we just had twin boys, my wife and I) and my life feels overly full sometimes, and he is just gone. It is a deep and hollow resonance of sadness for what could have been, pleasures, pains and all. I will never get over it and I will never stop replaying the memories of him in my mind. I am somewhat consoled by the idea that Chris lived (and perhaps is living) a fuller life in his short time than many people do with all their years.

I hope this note finds you well otherwise. Best to you and your family.

Chris' Life Story

What a shame this blog has somewhat stalled over the past few years - I guess life just goes on and, for me, I've had two children, moved house and started a new business. We still miss Chris every day and especially over Christmas when I can't help being angry that he's not here to share it with us - he may well have had a family of his own by now.

Anyway, Chris has been at the forefront of my mind since August when I interviewed my/our father to find out his life story for a project I was working on. Obviously, we discussed Chris and his disappearance and both got upset. My husband and I edited Dad's story, added photographs and designed a hardback book for him - when we got the books back from the printers we couldn't believe that there was a typo (we'd checked it over and over for mistakes). And where was it...? On the page opposite a full portrait shot of Dad and Chris! I've decided to keep the mistake in as it's kind of nice to think that Chris may have had a hand in annotating the page to let us know he saw it! The book was the first step in creating my new business and Chris was the inspiration - see www.redletterbookslifestory.blogspot.com

Hence this post...It's high time that I got round to creating a book of Chris' life story, but that means I need some help from his friends to fill in all the gaps that we, as his family, can't...All contributions welcome.

Film-Making in Dallas

From Alexander B. Davis (Alex):

This is Alex Davis, an american friend of Chris' from Charterhouse. I was his "filmmaker" friend, and we met one weekend back in those days. I have been so saddened by Chris' disappearance and was relieved to see that you started a site in his honor. I think of him often and I have video and pictures from his trip to visit me in Dallas back in '94. I will send you what I have in time, but for now I just wanted to mention that I am happy you started this. I am holding out for his reappearance, despite the apparent unlikeliness. Looking forward to sending in some happy stories and sharing the pictures. What a dear friend he was to me.

Will never forget him...

From Paul Grzegorzek

I used to work with Chris many years ago at the Western Front [pub] in Churchill Square [Brighton]. I heard about his disappearance at the time, but had no way of contacting anyone after to find out if there had been any news.

Chris was always vibrant, outgoing and full of life, except at the end of a shift, and even then he was one of the nicest people I ever met. Even now, thinking about him brings a tear to my eye as I'm sure it does yours, but I just wanted to say that there are others out here who will never forget him.

All the very best,
Paul

Four in trouble on the Common

From Alex Campbell.

Each "Field Day" the whole school [Charterhouse] would usually go off and do a day or weekend's trip outside the school as part of an extended extra-curricular activity. Chris and I were in the Scouts and formed an expedition group with two others, Oli Smith and Guy Parry-Williams. The plan was simple enough - venture scouts would split up into groups of four, navigate a pre-arranged route through the countryside, camp out in tents overnight and return to the school the following day.

Our group decided that we needed to camp somewhere near a pub so we could go drinking during the overnight camping evening. We ended up in Binscombe and chose to camp on either National Trust land (which was prohibited) or some Army training site (which was also prohibited) - I cannot remember which.

After woofing down some baked beans, we went off to the pub and spent the evening drinking Lowenbrau and chain smoking cigarettes. It was impressive that we got served as we were only about 15 years old. For some reason, we had attracted the attention of some local youths. I distinctly remember at the end of the evening that we had to run away from the pub, completely wasted, whilst being chased by locals, in the pitch dark back to our tent hidden on some common land. We fortunately made it in one piece and returned back to Charterhouse the next day with huge hangovers. Our Field trip had been a lot more interesting than anyone else's!

Loud mouth; but he could do a handstand.

Alex Campbell - with Chris at Charterhouse.

I remember clearly that Christian was very good at PE and running. For one term during our weekly PE class, we were taught by a very temperamental Spanish student who had come over as part of an exchange programme. He was a nice enough guy but his English was terrible.

One day the teacher made the mistake of telling us that he wanted to improve his English as quickly as possible and that we should correct his English if he said something wrong. This was very entertaining because it meant the whole class started commenting on what he said and recited back to him rephrased sentences every time he opened his mouth (to the point that he could not get a word in edgeways). It slowed up class a great deal so we saw it as a great way of getting out of the difficult gym routines we were supposed to undertake. We also taught him some quite questionable English.

Chris unfortunately took it a bit far one day and was sent outside the class for blatantly taking the p*** out of what the teacher was saying but he still came near the top of the class for PE grades that term as he was the only person in the class who could do a handstand and make a decent effort of climbing a rope!

I confess...I tried to kill him

Chris didn't really have a chance against me, the evil sister (18 months older than him) who tried to 'do away' with him when he was a baby, still in his pram. I must have been about 2 years-old.

Picture the scene: Dad has come in from the farm for his lunch...the sun is shining, so he's sitting on the terrace at the side of the house, near to the fish pond. Mum is I don't know where, but presumably on the terrace as well, because she witnessed the result of my dirty deed. I, all innocent, and apparently alone, am standing next to Chris' pram which sits on the slopped path outside the front door (said path leads down to the terrace and the fish pond). Chris is obviously in pram. Can you see where this is going, yet?

Well, in my innocence (I have to keep repeating this) I must have been tinkering with the pram and accidentally let off the brake of said pram. I can't remember seeing the pram, with my brother in it, gently free-wheeling down the path, but I can imagine that I was not that disturbed and probably was giggling at this point. So, pram trundles down the slope, gathering speed (it was quite a slope)....

Meanwhile, Dad wonders what the approaching rumble he hears could be. He asks Mum, 'What's that noise?'. They look round to see pram roll off the slope onto the terrace with a jolt, and see their little darling son launched in the air...

You'll never guess, but Dad has his arms out like a shot and Chris lands safely in his father's arms. Thank God, otherwise I'd have been in real trouble!!

*****************

Next instalment in Chris's close shaves with death: Mum tries to kill him...(before anyone gets too upset - it was an accident. Poor sod being born into this family!)

P.S Will add some cute, and embarrassing, pics of Chris when he was a babe to this post soon....

It's a Music Thang

From Ramsay Short - at Edinburgh with Chris:

Apart from being absolutely hysterical – I pissed my pants numerous times with him whether we were in Portugal or playing the cardgame Shithead in Negotiant's café at Edinburgh (somehow Chrissy would always end up 'Shithead' and look aghast at the 'how' of it while Angus, Vicky and I looked on) – Christian V was wicked bass guitar player.

During our second year, Christian, Olly Smith and myself did our bit for the Edinburgh 'student acting scene' by writing and playing the live music for the Fresher's Play. I say we did our bit, but it wasn't for our love of theatre. Rather it was out of our womanising passion - to get our hands on the sexy young chikitas all desperate for starring roles and snogs back stage. I think the single boys of our trio – Christian and myself – had some success, but what fun we had chatting about it and plotting with glee, about which of the fit wannabe actresses we stood chances with, and who should come back to practice their singing role in a private session. God, we were animals! But all in good spirits, I might add.

Still, I just wanted to note that of many memories coming to me, the days of band practice with Chrissy plucking his bass diligently, and playing some fantastic badass riffs, are some of my favourite from that year filled with moments of joking, seriousness and laughs. And need I say it - The Boy Had Talent - I could listen to Chrissy spank that guitar for hours.


"Down with a world in which the guarantee that we will not die of starvation has been purchased with the guarantee that we will die of boredom." - Raoul Vaneigem, The Revolution Of Everyday Life

Ring of Fire

From Charlie Coghlan - at Edinburgh with Chris

We were out at a dinner party and after a few drinks Chris decided to spice things up and said that for a dare he would drink a bottle of chilli sauce. There was some debate over how he should drink it: drop by drop from the bottle, down it in one from a glass, and which would be worse. In the end we poured the chilli sauce into a wine glass and Chris downed it in one. He then drank loads of beer/wine to put out the flames and as a consequence was shit faced by the time we stumbled back to our flat.

Didn't think too much about it until early the following afternoon when Chris finally surfaced, wandering down stairs rubbing his arse with a very quizzical look on his face, saying that his arse was bloody sore and asking if any of us had buggered him in the night…he was suffering from a Ring of Fire. Still makes me chuckle at the memory of the confused look on his face having completely forgotten his chilli eating exploits.

Anyway, just a little story, but as I say, still makes me smile.