Nimbos rang last night with the awful news that Craig Hinton has died. The web has since caught up with facts and people’s memories. The same things are said: a lovely, funny bloke, always eager to share the best and most salacious gossip.
I didn’t know him well, but Craig was a fixture in the pub and on mailing lists. He was the first person I knew to pick up on the mentions of “Bad Wolf”.
My abiding memory is his telling me in strictest confidence the plot of his forthcoming novel. I giggled at thoughts of breast implants controlled by aliens and killer contact lenses.
“But don’t let anyone else here know,” he said, with a comradely twinkle. He’d told me and me alone because I was someone special.
I then watched him go person-to-person round the pub, telling everyone exactly the same thing.
I know people switch to "thou shalt not speak ill of the dead" mode at times like this, but Craig was anways genuinely sweet on the odd occasions I spoke to him at the Tavern. It's a shame I won't get to do that again.
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