Felix is my godson – and he has made me so very proud to be his godfather. Felix was a blonde bombshell baby: cute, cuddly and funny. He had sparkly eyes and the cheekiest of grins. For most visitors to the Murdin home in Stone Street, Cambridge, in the late 1990s, the highlights were some exquisite cooking and the latest piece of stunningly intricate artwork. But for me, from February 1997 onwards, the centre of attention was unquestionably Felix. There were baby and then toddler games; the occasional attempt at a bit of a song (from both of us!); and walks in and around the city.
Then I recall visits in the early 2000s to Terrace House in Ashburton. On one of my early visits, Felix showed me his room – a veritable boys den: and Felix was chuffed to bits that it was his den. On a later visit to Devon, I picked up Felix from his school in Torquay and drove him home. Now in his early teens, Felix was slightly shy – but it wasn’t long before we hit on one of his favourite topics – computer games - and then he was away. I was impressed by his passion for and intricate knowledge of the subject - even if to his somewhat luddite godfather, it all sounded like a different language!
In the noughties, Felix ventured – twice - to the heart of Europe to visit me in Brussels. And we had a blast! He and Lucian learned to appreciate Belgium’s culinary delights: frîtes with mayonnaise, of course! And in the evenings, in between games of cards and card tricks, I furtively encouraged Felix to try a couple of slurps of some of Belgium’s famous beers. (This I saw as one of my key god-fatherly duties of course!). Felix cut a dashing figure as an usher at our wedding – handsomely sporting a waistcoat and purple buttonhole.
Steve and I were so proud to have Felix with us - part of our close circle of cherished friends and family; an integral part of our big day. Felix also sent me letters and emails. “Thank you for the wonderful letter - and of course the cheque,” he wrote to me on his 17th birthday, no doubt with those
eyes sparkling. “Today I shall put it into the bank, along with my other spoils, and then I shall be a wealthy man!” Felix’s words are always imbued with a bit of teenage-boy shyness mixed with flashes of total charm. But most of all, they are filled with genuine warmth and love. In Leicester, Felix went knocking on the door of show business, making his debut in 'Antony & Cleopatra' no less! (I suspect Felix was a little relieved that, unlike one of the leads, his part didn’t call for him to appear in drag!)
Before the first-night performance, Felix and I met in a student-hang-out café, where Felix had already charmed the waitress: she knew him as a regular. Felix talked about his course, his new digs, his new student life in Leicester: he was clearly happy. He’d had a huge amount of fun rehearsing the play, getting to know the cast, being part of the team. He was determined the play should be a success, so much so that he turned down my offer of a meal that evening, as he was under strict instructions to be at the venue in good time and get into the part. He performed with aplomb – every entrance and line executed with focus and clarity. He was word-perfect. After the show, I did my stage-door-Jonny act and waited for Felix to emerge. But he was shy of his fans – and didn’t appear. I sent another member of the cast to find him: in his usual modest way, it hadn’t occurred to Felix that I might want to congratulate him on his performance!
I shall remember Felix as the most genuine child - and then young adult: honest and loving; fair and unassuming; not a boastful or unkind thought in his head. I shall miss those letters and emails; and I shall miss all that he and I still had to do together. But no one can ever take away all those precious moments; all those charming qualities; all those cheeky smiles. Thank you, Felix, for being a unique and enriching presence in my life; you’ll always be with me, always cherished, always loved. And to use your own words, your presence has made me ‘a wealthy man’.