Mongrel, Koro And A Death Of A Dear Friend
Without Prejudice
His nickname was Mongrel. Rumour has it he was one of the Mongrel Mob in New Zealand once, but we were never sure. His head was tattooed.
His real name was Peter Maskell and my little family called him, Koro, a respected old man in Muldy language
He was the children's Godfather, Jade, Tiana, Tegan and Dylan. They adored him, he carried photos of them in his wallet. He stood skinny and dressed in black, long beard a la ZZ Top, a fierce warrior in his time and a loving Dad who had lost a baby once. He said the death made him drink.
I first heard of him through my daughter and New Zealand Son In Law. I had heard of his nickname , Mongrel, and asked my Irish fiancé Nev what he was like.
"Pretty much as you would imagine" was his reply.
He himself was a legendary drinker and recognised and honoured another legendary drinker.
He drank at The Old Dandy , before it turned into an upmarket pokies venue. It was just a pub in the old days, famous for fights that sent men hurling through windows.
Mongrel was in his fifties then. He died last night watching the news in a facility in Cranbourne. Quietly. My daughter dropped him home just days ago. He was fine. He had broken his arm once falling at a party and never bothered to get it fixed. It mended itself.
Yvette carried the home phone in last night with the sad news and I cried. He had always been good to me and offered me help whenever I needed it. Once a gun when I had trouble with an ex and I laughed and waved his offer off.
He went to live with his God children, my grandchildren and my daughter and Son In Law and one day I trimmed his beard and cut his toenails for him, they were starting to grow into his skin. He let me. An old soldier with a drink problem.
Everyone that met him liked him. Grown men cried when they found out he died. He was certainly no "mongrel", a humble man in his early sixties who cared about others.
He will always be missed.
Xxx
His nickname was Mongrel. Rumour has it he was one of the Mongrel Mob in New Zealand once, but we were never sure. His head was tattooed.
His real name was Peter Maskell and my little family called him, Koro, a respected old man in Muldy language
He was the children's Godfather, Jade, Tiana, Tegan and Dylan. They adored him, he carried photos of them in his wallet. He stood skinny and dressed in black, long beard a la ZZ Top, a fierce warrior in his time and a loving Dad who had lost a baby once. He said the death made him drink.
I first heard of him through my daughter and New Zealand Son In Law. I had heard of his nickname , Mongrel, and asked my Irish fiancé Nev what he was like.
"Pretty much as you would imagine" was his reply.
He himself was a legendary drinker and recognised and honoured another legendary drinker.
He drank at The Old Dandy , before it turned into an upmarket pokies venue. It was just a pub in the old days, famous for fights that sent men hurling through windows.
Mongrel was in his fifties then. He died last night watching the news in a facility in Cranbourne. Quietly. My daughter dropped him home just days ago. He was fine. He had broken his arm once falling at a party and never bothered to get it fixed. It mended itself.
Yvette carried the home phone in last night with the sad news and I cried. He had always been good to me and offered me help whenever I needed it. Once a gun when I had trouble with an ex and I laughed and waved his offer off.
He went to live with his God children, my grandchildren and my daughter and Son In Law and one day I trimmed his beard and cut his toenails for him, they were starting to grow into his skin. He let me. An old soldier with a drink problem.
Everyone that met him liked him. Grown men cried when they found out he died. He was certainly no "mongrel", a humble man in his early sixties who cared about others.
He will always be missed.
Xxx
