Name: Martin Appleby
When and where: Sunday, April 10th, 2016 at his home in Sticklepath, Devon
Beverage: a lovely cuppa tea
Last time we met in person: October 2010
Friends on Facebook: since August 2010
Friends in real life: since August 29, 1993

Before I finally took the plunge and moved to Cornwall in 1996, my friends and I would usually travel down to Newquay for Bank Holiday weekends and rent a holiday flat, or sometimes spend a few days in a B&B. Our pub of choice was the Red Lion, overlooking the harbour, and it was there on the evening of August 29, 1993, that I first met Martin. (Thanks once again to a photo with writing on the back, I know the exact date.) My friends Rachel, Brian and I were staying in a particularly grotty flat that weekend. My memory of the night is quite vivid, because I didn’t touch alcohol at all in those days. Consequently I was always the sensible one who made sure everyone was safely rounded up and accounted for at the end of the night, together with their belongings, which is how I got the nickname Auntie SairSairs. On the evening in question, Rachel, Brian and I were having a drink outside the Red Lion when the cutest little dog I’d ever seen came over to say hello to us. She stayed to hang out with us for a while, and before long her human came over to join the group. The dog’s name was Jack, and the human’s name was Martin.

At some stage of the evening, it was decided that after the pub closed we’d go back to the flat and get Brian’s guitar, then all go down to Fistral beach for a sing-song. As we began walking towards the beach, we noticed a lot of police who were trying to turn people around. We just wandered through the road blocks, guitar slung over shoulder, and continued on our way to the beach. When we arrived, it became clear that just about every person in Newquay under the age of 30 had a similar idea. The beach was busier than on a summer afternoon, and police were everywhere: riot vans, dogs, even a helicopter buzzing overhead with searchlights. Martin, more seasoned than most of those present in the area of civil disobedience, advised everyone that if they got below the high tide line, the police couldn’t make us leave. As I recall, a police dog handler tried to appeal to Martin, voices were raised, the dog lunged toward Martin and the handler pushed him out of the way. The next thing we knew, Martin was being bundled into the back of a police van. Before they shut the doors, he pushed Jack into my arms and gave us a white plastic bag and asked us to look after them for him. Jack didn’t want to be left behind, she barked and cried so much, so she ended up in the back of the van with Martin. They both spent a night in the cells, and we made our way back through the road blocks with this mysterious bag of stuff. I remember walking several paces behind Rachel and Brian (who, it’s probably fair to say, were both rather tipsy) as they passed a cluster of police officers and hearing Rachel say “Just act natural!” in a loud stage whisper. [facepalm]

We met up with Martin the next day to return his bag, telephone numbers were exchanged, and we would then continue to team up with him and Jack just about every time we were in town. While we were all in our B&Bs or flats, he’d be camping out on the cliffs or in his van. As a landscape designer, he’s very comfortable in nature. When Jack passed away a couple of years later, along came a sleek little black puppy called Gonzo with teeth as sharp as needles, who would grow up to be just as cool and full of personality as her predecessor. Just like Jack, she’d go everywhere with Martin, and never on a leash.

So, fast forward to 2016, and here we are driving from Cornwall to Wolverhampton. Although we’ve remained in touch constantly, I’d not seen Martin for quite a few years so Mal and I made a special detour to visit him at his amazing cottage in Devon. This was also the first time I’d had a chance to meet Squidge, the beautiful little dog he got a couple of years ago. She looks so much like Gonzo it’s easy to forget it isn’t her. Over cups of tea, we spent a couple of hours catching up. Topics we covered included nutrition and health, politics (including the US elections and the EU referendum) and we talked a lot about the land Martin bought a few years ago, which he has been developing into a nature reserve, and all the red tape he’s been coming up against as a result. We were hoping to get to tour it today, but the weather wasn’t ideal. That’s something to look forward to the next time I’m over.