Domestic Blitz

Dave is my oldest friend. We met way back in primary school and bonded over scale models and a fondness for inconsequential facts.

Dave is probably the most intelligent person I have ever met. He has an encyclopedic memory and can recount what I was doing 5 years ago, date and time of day. That's no exaggeration - he really can, I've tested him.

We were nerds together through school. His dad had built him a shed out back of his place and we'd hide there with our ship models and history books away from our fucked up families.

Dave's family had a penchant for alcoholism and suicide that would see off one of his brothers and his father. His mother was heavily inebriated for most of his childhood and his other brother was a full time car thief. Not that Dave would ever talk about that - he'd rather talk about ancient Rome and the latest model of the Graf Spee.

We knew that Dave would go far. He'd pass with honours any exam placed in front of him and would continue to do so as my schooling unravelled amid a dizzying variety of pharmaceuticals.

Socially awkward, Dave would still come to our parties. He'd be hanging out the window lest he got a whiff of dope smoke.

Dave was perfect as the straight guy you could always rely on as a comparison. We'd be having so much fun, then there'd be Dave, morose, out of place. We were certain he'd eventually commit suicide - we just weren't sure of the time and place.

Dave went on to Varsity while our school band, 'Swipe' petered out. He was doing science and history and didn't know whether he was going to be an astro-physicist or a history professor. He could do both if he liked.

Our guitarist, 'Rock' and I went on a series of motorbiking road trips that would leave us both hooked on smack. We drifted around various squalid flats, losing jobs and getting high, until he found a beautiful girlfriend and cleaned up.

A little later I, too, fell in love - with Dave's girlfriend. I contrived to hook up with her in a stunning bit of self-serving cunningness that even surprised me with it's success.

I felt a little bad, sure, but some things were meant to be. W and I remained together for 6 years and she probably saved my life. Dave never said anything but I know he was profoundly hurt. He cared for her a great deal.

I lost touch with Dave for a few years while I spent time in Europe. Eventually, though, I was to return and Dave and I met up again.

The change in him was unbelievable. From class nerd, he'd embraced punk rock with a passion. He now had a band, 'Domestic Blitz' that had been something of a pioneer on the scene in Wellington. He wore stove pipe trousers and jacket loaded with Union Jack buttons. He'd shaved his hair and clumped around in Doc Martin's.

Dave now had a vast circle of acquaintances and admirers including a fair number of women. The fact he never seemed to be interested in dating them led me to question his sexuality. They liked him - I couldn't see why - unless?

Dave also had a prodigious appetite for other people's stash - he took his Scottishness seriously. I'd kind of cleaned up - I was now the straight guy.

We never so much as talked as hung out, unless I primed him with a few scotches. Then he do 'morose' or ramble on about me being a 'bloody commie.' It bugged him and I'd blatantly tease him to death about it.

About the late seventies, I tried to regather my education and subsequently won a place at WTC. I took Drama and Geography as my majors and set about studying, taking odd jobs to pay for our house, be a daddy to our two children and work on a failing marriage. After a year, the strain was too much.

The roof of my domestic life fell in among much rancour and accusations. I called on Dave, depressed and desperate. He didn't know what to say - merely took me to some ghastly club where we sat on our own and got pissed. None of his friends were around - punk had metamorphised into New Wave and left him behind.

I thought he wasn't interested in my problems. Instead, he rambled on about nothing in particular and people I didn't know.

But, he did care. He got on the phone and rung people he knew would help. Soon, support arrived - support old Dave felt he was unable to offer personally. He hooked me back up with old friends and helped me reclaim some social life.

Later, I heard he'd gone on tour with Siouxie and the Banshees as - God knows what. He's also friends with Robert Smith of the Cure. Dave has a unique ability of coming on to celebrities without appearing a suck-up. He's also writes to Robert Fripp of King Crimson and the guy out of Van Der Graaf Generator - they write back, go figure?

He soldiers on someplace - probably back down in Wellington. Most likely he's in some job way below his skills so he doesn't have to break a sweat. If he'd topped himself I'd have heard on the grapevine.

I'll never forget the old bastard.

Don