My memories of Stuart Hunt.

A friend has left us. Stuart Hunt has been part of our lives for many years and while I was looking through the photographs for a suitable picture of him, I realised just how much he was a part. If I had to list the things that remind me of Stuart, the first thing I would mention would be fire!  Stuart loved fire and anything that was not nailed down would be burned on the braai fire.  He felt the cold and could be found huddled as close to the flames as possible.  Stuart was fiercely protective of his friends and although he didn't show it, we all knew that if anyone would help, it would be Stuart.  He loved music and he was a proficient ball-room dancer.  I loved dancing with him, because he was that good.  His phrase, "Don't bounce" comes to mind.  He insisted that dancing is flowing and he was right.  Stuart was an architect and his mind was as sharp as a tack when it came to building design.  He drew up plans for many houses.  Stuart was passionate about motor bikes and his bike was always maintained as a spotless machine.  We used to rag him about making sure that his bike idled for fifteen minutes before it was ridden, but he did things by the book. We all rode for Ulysses bike club (now Odysseus) and I don't think there was a more loyal member than Stuart accompanied by his love, Megan who he dubbed "The Poison Dwarf."  Organisation was Stuart's forte.  If we were embarking upon an adventure, be it a breakfast ride, rally or a weekend away, emails from Stuart would fly around cyberspace to make sure we all knew exactly where, what and how. He was always so enthusiastic and it was infectious. He loved the camaraderie of friends and would document all our doings with photographs and music. I bet he has categorised everything in his amazingly precise handwriting. I remember how excited he was to be surrounded by so many friends and family on his sixtieth birthday. Stuart earned the nickname of Grumpy due to his acerbic retorts, but Stuart was not really that. I saw him tear up more than once because he was so damn sentimental. He was a kind man. Stuart had a brilliant, dry sense of humour and one had to listen carefully to muttered commentary to hear how funny he actually was. His rare smile was a joy to behold. His latter time was difficult. We sadly watched his health decline and he alienated himself to a large extent. He had his reasons because Stuart always had his reasons. We all tried to understand and let him be. The last time I saw Stuart he smiled at something I said so I kissed his cheek and said my silent goodbye to him.