Wednesday, September 06, 2006
Obituary Eugene Mullan ( 19??-September 2006)
I met Eugene at Caerleon Writers' Holiday in 2005. He was tall, dark and handsome, an English teacher like me, and the author of an award-winning book. I was on the course in erotic writing run by his good friend Mitzi Szereto and I kept in touch with both of them.
After Caerleon I exchanged emails with Eugene, lengthy thoughtful emails about our respective lives, teaching, and life in general. His reply to me about classroom discipline was:
'Good idea to have a few stock responses to impertinence ... certainly don't lose your temper ... the "naughty" ones enjoy that and will look for ways of winding you up ... and it frightens the more timid children ....
Better to "act" at being angry in short bursts and direct it at an individual who needs putting in his/her place ... not a whole class ...
Look as if you are enjoying yourself ... praise good behaviour as much as possible ... troublemakers at the front of course ... never go back on your word ... "a final warning" means just that ... never punish a whole class for the misdemeanours of a few ... sometimes speak very quietly so they have to concentrate to hear you ... set ground rules early and don't change the boundaries ..... '
His comment on singing was:
'That was very sweet of Mitzi to say so ... but I'm really a "one trick pony" .... as far as playing music is concerned ...
my two brothers are very good ... I was always the least musical in our family ....
as for singing .... I don't mind saying that I can sing a bit ...
I don't know if I could teach you to sing ... other than I know that it is all about finding the "centre" of your voice ... which may be higher or lower than your speaking voice ... and breathing .... and confidence ...
I am singing on Friday too .... let me know how it goes for you ...
doo-wa ...doo-wa
Eugene x '
He was dealing with the law courts about his divorce, unhappy about the divorce proceedings, later happy when it was over, and happy about his new house, but needed a break. I invited him to attend Writers' Summer School in Derbyshire.
I was living in London and he was living further north or visiting friends in Leicester and Sheffield so we did not see each other again. We continued emailing and I last wrote to him on a Thursday in September 2006. You can imagine my horror on opening an email from Mitzi at midnight on Friday with the subject: Bad News.
Eugene had died from pneumonia after being confined to bed with food poisoning.
Mitzi said he had had food poisoning previously. Possibly from food which had gone off whilst he was away on holiday.
I keep churning this fact over and over, as if I could turn the clock back, rewind the video, if only I could find the exact moment when things went wrong.
I thought, maybe he believed that having had food poisoning previously and recovered, he assumed it was not a serious problem, instead of thinking it was a lucky escape and a warning.
I am shocked, uneasy, in denial.
I wrote to Mitzi and she put me in touch with Linda and Andy, 'long time friends of his in Sheffield. They go way back.'
Andy sent me information about Eugene's career.
Linda gave me the email of Wendy Gallagher who wrote:
'I first met Eugene in 2003 thro Linda Lee. I last saw him on August 6th.
Here is some of what I know.
He took me to a Blake exhibition and I learned to appreciate Blake via Eugene's enthusiasm. I introduced him to ballet and he instantly adored it, especially classical, tho the last ballet he took me to, in May, was Deborah Culker's co, which we had seen and loved once before.
Eugene was a runner. There is a very steep hill in beautiful countryside on the outskirts of Sheffield where he used to run regularly. Once, when he was about to miss a ferry in Scotland, he broke into a graceful, loping glide and covered the distance to the boat in seconds without getting out of breath.
He was a gardener; his garden orderly and tended according to season. He had a small but deep pond in his garden which he acquired, with its fish, along with his house. And there came baby fish which delighted him as, apparently, the only way they cd hv come into being was by Eugene's having carried eggs in the crevices of his wellies as he tended to the pumping system. (Well, I understood at the time he explained it to me!).
He loved flowers and loved sending them.
He loved the fragrance of lavender.
He packed for trips two days before departure and always took too much and wondered why.
He enjoyed wine and real ales.
He liked to eat steak.
He loved to cook. But not often enough for himself.
He strung fairy lights on the bedroom ceiling.
He loved going to art exhibitions and encouraged local artists.
He had a beautiful voice and played guitar and banjo. He made me cry with pleasure at the sweetness of his voice when, early in our relationship, he simply took his guitar and sang to me. He was wonderfully supportive of his friends.
Not only was he an extremely talented writer, he really understood the craft of writing and was generous with his time and analytical powers. But not indulgent: I consulted him about a story; he said "You need to cut it by 50%" He gave me a tiny tape recorder to record my late night and early morning ramblings.
He starred in local productions - annual G&S - occasional drama.
He was multi-talented, passionate, loyal.
He is admired and loved by many people.
He didn't take care of himself physically and only showed irritation at any suggestion of healthcheck.
I cannot understand that he no longer is.'
Eugene is survived by two sons.
Mitzi writes that Eugene was with a friend in France 'only the week before and he was so happy when he rang me on his return -- I think he'd spent the happiest week of his life with her there. So maybe that's some comfort. Thing is, it should have continued. He had been through too many rough times and happiness should not be so fleeting.'
Mitzi expecting to be teaching in Greece at the time of the funeral wrote:
'I've decided to visit a church there and light a candle for him. If I can get hold of a priest, I'll ask him to say a prayer (or rather get someone to translate what I want to said priest). Eugene lived in Greece for several years and always dreamed of going back there to live again. So I think it's appropriate.'
If anybody wishes to send any comments about Eugene, details of his life, or photos of him, or general issues raised, such as teaching, death, food poisoning and pnemonia, please contact me at angelalansbury@hotmail.com or phone 0208 428 9638.
I met Eugene at Caerleon Writers' Holiday in 2005. He was tall, dark and handsome, an English teacher like me, and the author of an award-winning book. I was on the course in erotic writing run by his good friend Mitzi Szereto and I kept in touch with both of them.
After Caerleon I exchanged emails with Eugene, lengthy thoughtful emails about our respective lives, teaching, and life in general. His reply to me about classroom discipline was:
'Good idea to have a few stock responses to impertinence ... certainly don't lose your temper ... the "naughty" ones enjoy that and will look for ways of winding you up ... and it frightens the more timid children ....
Better to "act" at being angry in short bursts and direct it at an individual who needs putting in his/her place ... not a whole class ...
Look as if you are enjoying yourself ... praise good behaviour as much as possible ... troublemakers at the front of course ... never go back on your word ... "a final warning" means just that ... never punish a whole class for the misdemeanours of a few ... sometimes speak very quietly so they have to concentrate to hear you ... set ground rules early and don't change the boundaries ..... '
His comment on singing was:
'That was very sweet of Mitzi to say so ... but I'm really a "one trick pony" .... as far as playing music is concerned ...
my two brothers are very good ... I was always the least musical in our family ....
as for singing .... I don't mind saying that I can sing a bit ...
I don't know if I could teach you to sing ... other than I know that it is all about finding the "centre" of your voice ... which may be higher or lower than your speaking voice ... and breathing .... and confidence ...
I am singing on Friday too .... let me know how it goes for you ...
doo-wa ...doo-wa
Eugene x '
He was dealing with the law courts about his divorce, unhappy about the divorce proceedings, later happy when it was over, and happy about his new house, but needed a break. I invited him to attend Writers' Summer School in Derbyshire.
I was living in London and he was living further north or visiting friends in Leicester and Sheffield so we did not see each other again. We continued emailing and I last wrote to him on a Thursday in September 2006. You can imagine my horror on opening an email from Mitzi at midnight on Friday with the subject: Bad News.
Eugene had died from pneumonia after being confined to bed with food poisoning.
Mitzi said he had had food poisoning previously. Possibly from food which had gone off whilst he was away on holiday.
I keep churning this fact over and over, as if I could turn the clock back, rewind the video, if only I could find the exact moment when things went wrong.
I thought, maybe he believed that having had food poisoning previously and recovered, he assumed it was not a serious problem, instead of thinking it was a lucky escape and a warning.
I am shocked, uneasy, in denial.
I wrote to Mitzi and she put me in touch with Linda and Andy, 'long time friends of his in Sheffield. They go way back.'
Andy sent me information about Eugene's career.
Linda gave me the email of Wendy Gallagher who wrote:
'I first met Eugene in 2003 thro Linda Lee. I last saw him on August 6th.
Here is some of what I know.
He took me to a Blake exhibition and I learned to appreciate Blake via Eugene's enthusiasm. I introduced him to ballet and he instantly adored it, especially classical, tho the last ballet he took me to, in May, was Deborah Culker's co, which we had seen and loved once before.
Eugene was a runner. There is a very steep hill in beautiful countryside on the outskirts of Sheffield where he used to run regularly. Once, when he was about to miss a ferry in Scotland, he broke into a graceful, loping glide and covered the distance to the boat in seconds without getting out of breath.
He was a gardener; his garden orderly and tended according to season. He had a small but deep pond in his garden which he acquired, with its fish, along with his house. And there came baby fish which delighted him as, apparently, the only way they cd hv come into being was by Eugene's having carried eggs in the crevices of his wellies as he tended to the pumping system. (Well, I understood at the time he explained it to me!).
He loved flowers and loved sending them.
He loved the fragrance of lavender.
He packed for trips two days before departure and always took too much and wondered why.
He enjoyed wine and real ales.
He liked to eat steak.
He loved to cook. But not often enough for himself.
He strung fairy lights on the bedroom ceiling.
He loved going to art exhibitions and encouraged local artists.
He had a beautiful voice and played guitar and banjo. He made me cry with pleasure at the sweetness of his voice when, early in our relationship, he simply took his guitar and sang to me. He was wonderfully supportive of his friends.
Not only was he an extremely talented writer, he really understood the craft of writing and was generous with his time and analytical powers. But not indulgent: I consulted him about a story; he said "You need to cut it by 50%" He gave me a tiny tape recorder to record my late night and early morning ramblings.
He starred in local productions - annual G&S - occasional drama.
He was multi-talented, passionate, loyal.
He is admired and loved by many people.
He didn't take care of himself physically and only showed irritation at any suggestion of healthcheck.
I cannot understand that he no longer is.'
Eugene is survived by two sons.
Mitzi writes that Eugene was with a friend in France 'only the week before and he was so happy when he rang me on his return -- I think he'd spent the happiest week of his life with her there. So maybe that's some comfort. Thing is, it should have continued. He had been through too many rough times and happiness should not be so fleeting.'
Mitzi expecting to be teaching in Greece at the time of the funeral wrote:
'I've decided to visit a church there and light a candle for him. If I can get hold of a priest, I'll ask him to say a prayer (or rather get someone to translate what I want to said priest). Eugene lived in Greece for several years and always dreamed of going back there to live again. So I think it's appropriate.'
If anybody wishes to send any comments about Eugene, details of his life, or photos of him, or general issues raised, such as teaching, death, food poisoning and pnemonia, please contact me at angelalansbury@hotmail.com or phone 0208 428 9638.
