Ok. Now to the story I’ve tried to hide from for the last fifteen and a half years.

Hmm. That’s not completely accurate. I did face up to it in 2017 when I was making the video for One Peculiar English Lad.

Julie and I were in the UK in June/July 2006, having been invited to two family weddings. The Hyde Park Calling concert was conveniently sandwiched between the two weddings, which was why I was able to go.

To the weddings, that is. If it hadn’t been for Hyde Park Calling I wouldn’t have gone! (Kidding, big sis!)

Prior to leaving Australia I had been in touch with Col Turner, telling him I was going to be seeing Roger Waters in Hyde Park, as well as doing some touring around the UK.

 

Col sent me a similar picture to this (at left). It is a plaque on a park bench in Cambridge’s Botanical Gardens which is  dedicated to “The Piper”, “RKB”, Roger Keith Barrett.

At the time I was sworn to secrecy over this park bench. Col, I hope it’s alright for me to reveal it here. 🙂

 

 

With Col alerting me to the existence of Syd’s park bench it put a trip to Cambridge on our itinerary.

While we were there we stopped at Grantchester Meadows for a few photos and a video or two

Obviously I hoped the scenery would reflect the mood of the song, as I had the intention of making it into my very own Grantchester Meadows video.

While it was a nice, warm day, whenever I did a video pan around it got a bit breezy and the sun went behind clouds, so when you watch the videos it actually looks more like the middle of winter!
Magoolie Factor strikes again!

Julie and I made our way to the Botanical Gardens, where we found dozens of park benches like the one in the photo Col Turner had sent. They each had a plaque like Syd’s, only they were all dedicated to someone who had passed away. They all started with, “In loving memory of…”

With so many benches to inspect, Julie and I split up to speed up the search for Syd’s. I remember calling out to her, “You’ll know Syd’s plaque when you see it. It doesn’t start with in ‘loving memory of…’because he’s not dead.”

Soon enough we located Syd’s bench and plaque, and took some pictures.

 

 

Interestingly, within the Botanical Gardens grounds was a gift shop with a sign saying “GILMOUR BUILDING”.

Upon making enquiries about it we found, sadly, it had nothing to do with David.

 

 

 

After a while we left the gardens and wandered around Cambridge a bit. Wherever we went I always kept an eye out for a balding gentleman on a bicycle, just hoping I might catch a glimpse of the reclusive Roger Keith Barrett.

We then headed down to Kent, where we spent the night and much of the next day before driving back to my sister’s place.

When we got back my niece was standing in the front doorway. I’ll never forget the first words she uttered..

“Syd Barrett’s dead. He died yesterday. It was on the news.”

I don’t know what my niece must have thought, or how my reaction must have looked, but the best way I can describe it is this: “then I saw black and my face splashed in the sky!”

I don’t recall falling to the ground on my hands and knees, but that was how I felt inside. I collapsed.

Of all the dumb things I’d ever done, of all the disasters I’d ever caused, of all the cruel blows the Magoolie Factor had ever dealt, this was the worst! I’d killed Syd Barrett.

Could it be that the very moment my backside made contact with the park bench Syd gave up the ghost?

I was numb. Speechless apart from the feeble muttering of six words, “I’d just sat on his bench….”

I don’t know what more I can say to the millions of Syd fans all over the world but I’m SO sorry.

I guess many will say there’s no need to blame myself. I was just in the right place but at the wrong-est possible time (again!). But given my track record it’s very hard to shake the feeling of either ultimate or at the very least indirect guilt.

But you know what the really sad, really stupid part is? I’d always held out this faint hope that I’d see Syd again. And I can’t stop thinking how ironic it was that I’d been walking around Cambridge with that hope swirling around in my head on the very day he died.

* * * * * * * * * *

I thank Liam Creedon for the opportunity to finally get all this stuff out in the open. And to those of you who’ve read Albert Magoolie Remembers More all the way through, thanks so much. I hope you’ve got some enjoyment out of it all.

I certainly don’t think this is the end, either. I’m confident that there are yet more chapters to add, even to the stories I’ve touched on in the previous pages. I’ll be happy to tell them if there’s anyone happy to read them.

Best wishes,
Albert Magoolie/Mooglie
albertmooglie@gmail.com