At the end of last year I received a very sad text message from a close friend of mine. We had met as waitresses in the same restaurant eight years ago, and as so many of us do, formed an intensely close bond that has remained for the many years since.
Our friendship has helped us to survive many of the perils that your twenties bring - fallings out with friends, endings of relationships, changes in jobs, moves around the country - all tackled with hours of phone calls and WhatsApp messages.
But last year brought us a new challenge: the death of a former colleague.
He was a couple of years younger than me, with a young family. Extremely talented and passionate, one of the first people I met my own age that was properly engaged with the industry and saw it as a rewarding career path.
He went on to become a very successful chef, and although we didn’t keep in regular touch, we often met up when I was back in the area. His death was, and still is, a huge shock to us all.
For the first week, the details of his passing were not released, but it later transpired that it was due to an overdose.
Particularly sad, as my friend reminded me that when we worked together he wouldn’t even take paracetamol. He is a huge loss, and it’s a huge shame.
Ten years ago I worked in a restaurant near to my parents’ during summers and Christmases home from University.
Every Sunday evening we were closed, so we’d all have a couple of pints after lunch time shift. One such Sunday I was offered a lift from one of the chefs, I declined as I was staying on a bit longer.
He went on to crash into a tree outside the turning to my house and died after a coma a few weeks later. We found out just before a busy Sunday lunch, and then had to go through service as normal. We threw a huge wake at the restaurant for him. He was, again, incredibly talented with a young family, and a massive loss.
These incidents clearly have things in common: chefs dying young from drink and drug related issues. I hoped that my experiences were unusual, that I just happened to have had two colleagues die.
However, my chef friend Simon Ulph
