Another day, another funeral and it was off to Westerleigh for the celebration of Rob Dean’s life. Being both a Tory and, much worse still, a Shithead, Rob would not seem to be a kindred spirit but he was because we had one thing in common: the Beach Boys. And he was funny, and lovely and everyone else said the same.
Deaner was only 57 when he died on 1st May. Even though he’d had some health issues in the past, I suppose I’d come to believe he was indestructible. The funeral celebrant and various family members referred to him as “larger than life”, which is entirely true, but I remember him being louder than life.
Some years ago, the Beach Boys legend Brian Wilson was playing a show in Bristol. We arranged a meet-up in the Hatchet and of course I heard Deaner long before I saw him. “Awright, Rick? That (expletive deleted) Gas lost again.” “Hi Rob. Pint is it?” And it was. Anyway, as Wilson was in town, Deaner felt it only right that we had a sing-song in the pub and struck up a raucous version of ‘Barbara Ann’. We all joined in but soon the landlord was telling us to be quiet. “There are other customers, you know.” So, obviously we all shut up until Deaner – who else? – sang “A Ba-Ba-Ba-Ba-Barbara Ann, Ba-Ba-Ba-Ba-Barbara Ann…” and off we went again, with the great man using the table as a drum. We were once again told to be quiet but this time the landlord said if we did it again, he’d kick us out. Well, what do you think happened? Within a few minutes, we had been ejected.
I would bump into him from time to time, more often than not at Beach Boys/Brian Wilson shows and I saw him as this unstoppable force of nature. And then it stopped.
There was a large turnout at Westerleigh and very little religion, other than The Lord’s Prayer, read out by the celebrant at the request of the family. Family members read out beautiful poems, there was lots of Beach Boys music, including an incredible version of Kokomo, Deaner’s favourite Beach Boys song, performed ‘live’ by the Surf’s Up band of which he had been a member for many a long and happy year. Indeed, the band showed immense courage and strength to hold it together and Deaner would have been very proud of them. And then it was over.
I stood around for a few minutes, taking in the fresh air and wondering whether to speak to relatives and friends, a few of whom I knew a bit but most I didn’t know at all. It was best to leave and allow family and friends to mingle and not get in their way, so I began the inevitable long quest to work out whether I had parked my car.
As I drove off slowly through the crematorium grounds, I played the Beach Boys’ ‘Til I Die (Steve Desper remix) through my music system. I almost wanted everyone to hear it but of course that was just me being self-indulgent. It was time to go.
I had been meaning to visit Deaner in his adopted town of Berkeley, Gloucestershire, but of course I never got round to it. And the game of ‘What if’ begins. What if I had gone up, had a boozy afternoon, followed by too much food, accompanied by Beach Boys music. Another memory that didn’t happen. I’m going to have to stop this “I really must do this thing one day” and actually do it.
God only knows what we’ll be without you.
