Sad news

During the course of the day I have received one facebook message, one phonecall and one email from different people in France, all giving me the same sad news. Gerard, the proprietor of the Makhila Bar was found by his son this morning - he had hanged himself.

It was common knowledge that in recent weeks he and his wife had split and that the Makhila was up for sale, which in itself was shock enough as they had appeared to be a very happy couple and were such a well known part of the Carcassonne social scene - but you never really know what lies under the surface.

Nevertheless, it is still a big shock and difficult to take in. I saw him only a few days ago, just last weekend - as usual we exchanged handshakes, smiles and 'ca va's'.

He was an instantly recognisable character - loud shirts, bald pate, big moustache, colourful reading glasses pushed up onto his forehead. He was larger than life, a gentle man but with fierce eyes that betrayed his Basque heritage and his love of rugby. He had no time at all for football.

Gerard was a patron of the Carcassonne rugby union team and the Makhila was their official watering hole. When the team won the celebrations went on well into the night. During the successful campaign for promotion from Pro D2 I was able to discern the result on a Sunday evening by opening my kitchen window and gauging the noise level and type of music coming from the Makhila at the top of the hill two hundred metres away.

The Makhila is a Basque Bar. It is brash and loud. It is a temple to bullfighting and rugby and food and drink. I have spent many an evening in there, although less so this year, often right to the end and sometimes beyond. When everyone started smoking inside it took me a couple of minutes to realise I was part of a lock-in.

The bar was full of big men with bigger moustaches and even bigger thirsts, but Gerard's wife, Francoise, was as much a part of the place as he was which is why the news of their split was such a surprise. I have eaten many a plate of tapas, drunk many a glass of pastis, many a glass of red wine and been handed as many 'on the house' too.

The Spanish Festival which took place last weekend was the Makhila's weekend. They always had the largest 'bodega' and the largest crowd and the loudest music containing all the usual French and basque drinking anthems. A couple of years ago an inordinate amount of rosé was consumed on this very day - 27th August - Debrah's birthday. There were some hangovers the day after that.

His empire had been growing. Last year he set his son up as the proprietor of a basque delicatessen based in 'Les Halles', the towns permanent meat and fish market. It specialised in basque products - wine, hams, cheeses, quince paste and everything chilli and pepper. There was always someone I knew sat at their bar with a coffee, or wine, or both, no matter what time of the day - usually some time in the morning. It was here last Saturday that I last saw Gerard.

If he was outside the Makhila when I drove past in the Audi he always gave me a wave. I shall miss that and I will miss his presense in town. I don't think I will be able to go into the Makhila ever again.

Whatever drove you to take your own life, Gerard, may you rest in peace.