BrotherHood

BrotherHood BATTERED FOR BILL People around me know that the relationships with my family have had their moments, particularly with my younger brother, with whom I used to be very close. I have his name tattooed on my back. A friend recently reminded me that my brother had been in touch with her to try and learn my new ‘phone number. I had texted her, ‘Please never give that man my number.’ Another friend rang me on Thursday 16th October to tell me that my brother was in the Argus. Paul Bott, for that is my brother’s name, was going to box for 50 consecutive rounds to raise money for the NHS ward within which our father had died in January 2008. After much soul-searching I texted Paul. He texted me. I texted him and he texted me. Then I texted him to which he replied, via text. I thought, ‘Bo****cks to this’, and rang him. Both laughter and conversation were immediate and natural. I saw him the following Sunday, Christmas Day, New Year’s Eve and several times since. ‘Phone calls are regular and many a text has bounced off a satellite. Thus, I was at Cheetah’s Gym before 11am on Sunday 18th January 2009 to cheer my brother on. The boxing ring, and its cellar environment, were as though Dickens had written Rocky. I sat to quietly watch as men queued up to hit my brother. The paper had implied that women and children would be involved but all I could see were very determined looking males. They were all serious boxers going for it. My intrigue turned to wincing as Paul’s ringside towel changed colour. After half an hour he looked tired. The sparring continued with one chap being extremely, frighteningly sharp. Wincing bred concern which was fuelled to dread after a ‘totter’ and the news that the last 5 rounds were to be against the Sharp Man. At some point tears appeared and the final round evoked sheer sporting excitement in the captured crowd. Despite some wobbling, Paul then presented two representatives of Grant Ward with a bottle of Champagne to be drunk by staff at the exact, anniversary moment the following day. In all the fun no-one had prepared the novelty, comedy cheque, but the appropriate e mail had been received. Against all medical advice, having suffered from ‘flu during the week, Paul boxed 50 rounds in 2 ½ hours to raise a sizeable amount of money. I am bursting with admiration and love for my brother. To anyone in difficult familial circumstances, I can only recommend time and space; followed by abject, mutual forgiveness. Ronald William (Uncle Bill) Bott; 1924-2008; RIP