Peter Corris died yesterday, in his sleep. What an end. I’m not sure that’s the ending Peter would have written for Cliff Hardy his shadow and subject of his detective novels. Cliff would have died in the arms of some babe.
But in his real life Pete was surrounded by Babes, wife Jean Bedford, step daughter Sofya daughters Miriam and Ruth and their kids. I spent a lot of time with Jean and Pete during the National Times years, by the time I joined the paper Peter was a contributor and Jean the Arts Editor. They lived in a hall that had been the Coaldale RSL club, down the south coast, a bugger to heat. The girls were little there was horse and the conversations went well into the night….I think I remember flagons of wine …. we all chain smoked.
Years later Peter and Jean moved back into Newtown so we ran into each other on the street often, by then I had to touch Pete lightly on the arm and tell him who I was, his sight was that bad. The thing I’ll always remember when I think of Pete, is his resilience, he had been diabetic most of his life but didn’t let the lose of his sight stop him from working or getting about the hood. If slowly.
There will be very worthy words said and written about Peter Corris but I’ll remember him as a very good man, who loved his family who didn’t let a chronic illness stop him doing what he loved.
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