Haven't seen or heard from Hugo in what seems like years....he was one of the most prolific posters on the old Rivals site for years and was always good for a laugh and some fun banter.We should at least try and get him back for the odd 'cameo' post here and there.
I know he (Kevin wasn't it?), used to float between Sweden(?) and The UK but now seems to have gone completely on the missing list having moved there permanently ....got shacked up with some Swedish, or was it Danish, Doris if I'm not mistaken?
If you read this board Hugo give us an update.
0
Comments
He lives in Sweden now as suzi said. He seemed quite chirpy about last Saturday's performance.
One great thing about the guy, apart from his humour and his ability to get a round in ;), was his dedication in getting Bob, who had muscular distrophy, to games, a few seasons back. He used to go and pick him up with Bob's nephew, I believe. It was a fair old round trip. Hugo never made a big deal about it, he just did it. It was just the action of a decent man, someone who helped out another human being do something "normal" he loved, at a time when those normal activities were getting increasingly hard to do.
For all the horrible things that happen in the world and sadly there are plenty of them, it's good to sometimes reflect on the kind deeds that go unspoken or unnoticed.
( and if you see this Hugo, hope you don't mind me posting that up here, I know you didn't do it for the praise, but it is a thread about you, so thought it was appropriate)
Bob sadly died of his illness. It was just before we beat Everton up at Goodison 1-0. Me Hugo and my son Dave went up to the game partly out of respect for brave old Bob, because we could. It felt as though the team won it for him that day and he was looking down going "Yes!" Sounds daft, I know but that is how it felt.
I can't remember what Bob's log on name was for the moment. But he was a true fan. He loved the time everyone went on the "other" Claus Jensen site and the bloke had about a million hits!
Please tell him to send a few bars over to the club
Was a lovely bloke.
RIP
I saw Hugo at a Chilterns CASC meeting shortly after Bob died- He was really quite cut up by his death-
Echo your thoughts completely about him doing it very very quietly.
A great character!
How oddly gratifying to be missed. I did post an update under a previous thread - having been advised by 3blokes that I was "wanted" but there is nothing much to report. I am still stuck here in Stockholm and have been too busy for too long to be able to keep up with what goes on on a messageboard. I'm not a great skimmer and over time names and "faces" change and it gets becomes very difficult to jump in and out.
I will try though....
A lot of people have commented on my relationship with Bob and the selflessness of it but it never felt like that to me. I maybe missed out on a few after-match drinks and probably extended my journey time by 30 minutes either end but it always felt like a symbiotic relationship to me - I had the pleasure (and it usually was, certainly until he became too weak to talk, we had loads of fun together with Bob's impish sense of humour) of Bob's company, I saved a lot of petrol money /train fares because it was a very rare occasion when Bob allowed me to put petrol in his Postman Patmobile and we had our own parking space behind the West Stand. And I always had a reason for not missing the game.
I originally got to know Bob through the Netaddicks chatroom, in fact it was in that chatroom that he told me of his illness and his intention of giving up his season ticket, and it was on that occasion I promised - along with Porkpie - to get him to the games if he renewed. It is a matter of intense pride to me that he never missed a game for want of a lift and when I was offered the opportunity of moving to Sweden it would have been a terrible dilemma for me had Bob not already passed away.
Bob died on January 13th 2004. I picked him up as usual on the 10th and we watched Charlton beat Wolves 2-0. Bob was taken to hospital that evening and contracted pneumonia because the nursing staff didn't realise they needed to move him from time to time and that he couldn't ask them. But Bob must have been very painfully aware of the publicity surrounding Diane Pretty just down the road in Luton and this end must have been a blessing in disguise compared to the prospect of dying from MND itself.
Attending Bob's funeral was one of the strangest and at the same time most gratifying experiences of my life. I remember the phone call from Bob's partner Margaret telling me of his death and I recall almost having to ask if it was OK to attend the funeral. The crematorium chapel was bursting and I went and stood in a corner to allow his family and friends pride of place - after all, I was only some guy who used to watch football with him - but how wrong I was. Bob had written his own eulogy, which was read by one of his friends from the cricket club and of all the people he had to thank (and after a long illness there were many of them) I was the only one mentioned by name. And afterwards people came looking for me - "which one is Kevin?" - and it became clear that Charlton had been the thing that Bob talked about and that he looked forward to. Plus it was the only time he got to see his son Ben. Bob had always been very generous giving me small gifts of scotch and cigars and such like but it was only on that day that I understood just how much it had meant to him and I have felt like a winner in that relationship ever since. It is possibly the one thing in my life I can look back on with undiluted pride.
And I still miss him today. Not perhaps the total invalid who could scarcely communicate and was in constant pain and who winced every time I hit a bump in the road, but the Bob who (literally) dreamt of buying Jermaine Defoe from Wet Sham and putting him to work in the burger bar and fining him a week's wages every time he burned one.
Now that you mention it I recall the conversation we had (was it not the first game we played after Scott Parker left) and our concious decision to make the journey in spite of everything just because we could.
p.s. I'm pretty sure it was 10,000,000 (you missed off a 0!) hits Claus "the Turtle" Jensen clocked up that morning before his hit counter went back to 0.
I remember you asking me to help out with the drive which unfortunately i never did- I also remember seeing you in the carpark after the Chiltern CASC/ Richard Murray meeting after Bob's funeral and it was so blindingly clear that you were absolutely gutted by his passing..
Hope all is well with everything else with you mate........
Had the pleasure of meeting Bob a few times and it truly was a pleasure.
How very right you are. As Bob and I were about to set off for the Valley that last time his next-door-but-one neighbour emerged, kids in tow, wearing a Wolves shirt and asked us for advice regarding public transport to the Valley. As he left he made the obvious remark about letting them have the 3 points as they needed them. Well, we didn't give them the points and they were duly relegated although I don't think the 3 points would have made any difference in the end.
But I have often reflected on that conversation. With the benefit of hindsight I doubt if very many of us would have chosen to stand in Bob's shoes that day rather than in those of the Wolves supporter, and I suppose that experience has helped me to take 2 relegations more or less in my stride.
Basically waking up to feel pissed off about yesterday's result is a joy and a privilege and being physically capable of kicking the cat is an added bonus.
Great post Hugo...and I'm sitting here pissing myself at the Defoe dream
Bob was on some pretty heavy medication, I think, which meant he could never attend evening kick-offs.
That dream was strangely detailed. Some bits of it were reasonably plausible (like Charlton winning the league title 20 years running) whilst others were rather far-fetched (like me being appointed finance director. Except I suppose it was Bob's decision and he was returning a favour). And he never did explain how he got to be so fabulously wealthy in the first place. But the Defoe bit is the bit I remember clearest.
How could it ever be a sacrifice having to spend time in company like that?
A lot of people have commented on my relationship with Bob and the selflessness of it but it never felt like that to me. I maybe missed out on a few after-match drinks and probably extended my journey time by 30 minutes either end but it always felt like a symbiotic relationship to me - I had the pleasure (and it usually was, certainly until he became too weak to talk, we had loads of fun together with Bob's impish sense of humour) of Bob's company, I saved a lot of petrol money /train fares because it was a very rare occasion when Bob allowed me to put petrol in his Postman Patmobile and we had our own parking space behind the West Stand. And I always had a reason for not missing the game.
I originally got to know Bob through the Netaddicks chatroom, in fact it was in that chatroom that he told me of his illness and his intention of giving up his season ticket, and it was on that occasion I promised - along with Porkpie - to get him to the games if he renewed. It is a matter of intense pride to me that he never missed a game for want of a lift and when I was offered the opportunity of moving to Sweden it would have been a terrible dilemma for me had Bob not already passed away.
Bob died on January 13th 2004. I picked him up as usual on the 10th and we watched Charlton beat Wolves 2-0. Bob was taken to hospital that evening and contracted pneumonia because the nursing staff didn't realise they needed to move him from time to time and that he couldn't ask them. But Bob must have been very painfully aware of the publicity surrounding Diane Pretty just down the road in Luton and this end must have been a blessing in disguise compared to the prospect of dying from MND itself.
Attending Bob's funeral was one of the strangest and at the same time most gratifying experiences of my life. I remember the phone call from Bob's partner Margaret telling me of his death and I recall almost having to ask if it was OK to attend the funeral. The crematorium chapel was bursting and I went and stood in a corner to allow his family and friends pride of place - after all, I was only some guy who used to watch football with him - but how wrong I was. Bob had written his own eulogy, which was read by one of his friends from the cricket club and of all the people he had to thank (and after a long illness there were many of them) I was the only one mentioned by name. And afterwards people came looking for me - "which one is Kevin?" - and it became clear that Charlton had been the thing that Bob talked about and that he looked forward to. Plus it was the only time he got to see his son Ben. Bob had always been very generous giving me small gifts of scotch and cigars and such like but it was only on that day that I understood just how much it had meant to him and I have felt like a winner in that relationship ever since. It is possibly the one thing in my life I can look back on with undiluted pride.
And I still miss him today. Not perhaps the total invalid who could scarcely communicate and was in constant pain and who winced every time I hit a bump in the road, but the Bob who (literally) dreamt of buying Jermaine Defoe from Wet Sham and putting him to work in the burger bar and fining him a week's wages every time he burned one.
Now that you mention it I recall the conversation we had (was it not the first game we played after Scott Parker left) and our concious decision to make the journey in spite of everything just because we could.
p.s. I'm pretty sure it was 10,000,000 (you missed off a 0!) hits Claus "the Turtle" Jensen clocked up that morning before his hit counter went back to 0.
That post by Hugo remains one of my favourite comments on this forum. Brought a tear to my eye.
Good old Distant, and hope wherever Hugo is, he’s having a fine time.