I'll be there for you

"NO ONE can just become a player, they have to be born as such." These are the immortal words my friend Liam Kidd constantly utters. Liam popped down to see me recently after hearing I was going through a bad patch. It is easy to get caught up in your own life and we hadn't touched base for some time, so we had a lot of catching up to do.

When we met it was obvious he had changed. He was always a loyal and charismatic character - a "player" - but he has moved on to better things and as a result, his priorities have changed. He was always very image conscious, and I guess he still is, but now it doesn't rule his life.

To help you understand, I'll need to take you back five or six years. Liam, myself and our friend Jonathan Horner (nicknamed Jack for the obvious reasons) were all "players" and the Glasgow nightlife was our stage. At the time Liam had a great job in sales - he could sell snow to the Eskimos - but wasn't entirely happy with his job, so he chucked it and threw himself into music management.

One of his friends had a great rock band, but needed a manager. Enter Liam stage right. Suddenly from the relative security of the nine to five club, he was organising gigs, publicity and studio time. He learned as he went along and he learned fast. He could get people excited about anything and he was invited to Dublin to meet U2's manager about the possibility of taking his band, Auntie Rose, on tour with the Irish group. Pumping all his money into the band meant he had to live on a shoe string.

I had given up a secure, well-paid job with a fashion company to pursue a career in DJ-ing - before everybody in Glasgow was spinning the decks. I had a vision of what I wanted and, like Liam, used all my money to fund the venture, along with Jack.

Looking back, we were well ahead of our time. We were bringing DJs up from London, putting them up in hotels, and paying them fortunes. I don't think there was one night we made any money, but we had to give it a go.

Still we were good friends and had great nights out. We looked good and had the best of clothes. At the time, image seemed crucial to a good night out.

What bonded us together was the fact we never had 10p between us to rub together. Yet, by some miracle, we still managed to get into the clubs for free, get blind drunk, and do it all again the next night. We were players and we were good.

Fast forward to now and things have changed a great deal. Liam was telling me about his new job with great enthusiasm. He had begun working for JC Decaux, the world's largest outdoor advertising company, whose trendy work is seen on bus shelters all over Scotland. Unfortunately, it is not uncommon to see the ads with the glass shattered - makes you proud to be Scottish, doesn't it?

The company had hundreds of applicants for the job, but with Liam's immaculate presentation and smooth patter, the post was always going to be his. He had real excitement in his voice when he told me about it and that feeling was infectious. This was the break he needed and I was really made up for him. There was no jealousy, just genuine delight he was doing well.

We began making plans to see Jack, who is now down in London where he is in charge of several high profile bars and nightclubs. So while Liam and Jack forge ahead with their careers and romances with two lovely women, I have cancer and am single. What a difference a day makes, because it only seems like a day since we were the best of friends, struggling with life and attempting to find our niche.

We are all turning 30 this year, which we find amusing. To be honest, we're surprised we've made it this far. Despite having the best wardrobe of clothes, I can't help myself from buying more gear, even though I am dying.

I'm losing weight by the week, so I recently offered Liam some of my designer clothes - there's no point in them sitting about the house. It was at this point that Liam made an astute observation. "Jono, for four or five years, it all mattered. Looking good, being seen about town, having the right labels. The only thing we didn't have was money. But now we're all making good money, it doesn't matter any more. Life changes and we have different priorities. Your priority is health, and we all take each day as it comes. We don't know what's round the corner."

Four years is not a long time, and I could see Liam was visibly upset about the hand fate has dealt me, while he was enjoying his own good fortune. I have always taken his advice over the years and passed it onto others: "No one can become a player, they have to be born as such." We are players of some distinction - what we can become is more knowledgeable, by taking life as it comes, learning from it and enjoying it while you can.

When Liam left, I told my mum about his good news and how pleased I was for him, but she could sense my disappointment - no, that is the wrong word, I meant disenchantment - with my own life. Mum knew what I was thinking: where would I be if I didn't have cancer? She consoled me by telling me I would be abroad or in London, perhaps even married, but whatever I would be doing, I would not be staying at home and spending all this time with her and dad. She plays the Devil's advocate well.

I have a quote of my own: the candle that burns twice as bright burns half as long. I love my mum and dad, and if took cancer to show this, so be it. If you are lucky enough to have your health, let your parents know you love them. It costs nothing, but is worth a fortune Email Jonathan at: Deadherald@aol.com

Copyright 2001
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