Funeral Notices

Adam died unexpectedly at his home in Brighton on 3rd August 2023. He was 53 years old.

He is missed and loved by his family and friends. Adam will be privately cremated on Wednesday the 6th of September.

A personal note from his brother, Paul:

Adam wrote on his CV that he was raised and educated across three continents and I can see the twinkle in his eye when he thought of that line; he always had a gift for the dramatic.

Drama, the dramatic arts, was life blood for Adam. He was never happier than when he was working in the theatre, watching the theatre or talking about the theatre; it was a passion that never faded. After working on The Lion King musical in both New York and London, he decided to use his degree in stage management to organise offices instead. After all, offices he once quipped, are just daily dramas with a large body of actors waiting to be told what to do. He eventually settled in Brighton where he helped manage office life with the flair of a theatre director: with humour, withering sarcasm and (mostly) benign dictatorial control. He could be a challenging character, but he was respected for what he achieved – task him with a personal project, be it relocating an entire office or putting on a fabulous presentation event and he would always deliver.

He spent the last 20 years of his life in Brighton, a city that he loved for its larger than life presence, and the comfortableness it affords to those that want to live their lives how they wish. He travelled when he could, spending time with friends with trips to Thailand, Barcelona or anywhere the sun shone; partying at festivals in places off the beaten track, be it Hungary or Iceland. He knew how to have a good time, whether it was squeezing every last drop out of Glastonbury’s Naughty Corner or clubbing all weekend in any city that had the most current vibrant scene.

But that vibrant life hit the buffers when he was beset with a host of chronic illnesses during the last few years of his life. He sadly became more reclusive and withdrew to the comfort of his flat where he could watch the dramas play out on screens rather than in the outside world.

I’ll remember him as the only one in my life that was capable of holding a single conversation which could start with the latest Eurovision gossip, proceed to make me belly laugh reciting Titus Andromedon dialogue, explain more than I ever wanted to know about the latest stage musical trends (and why he needed another cast recording from Chess), breathlessly list his latest sci-fi book, film and TV recommendations, ending with a deep dive into his current health fads and why mega-dosing on vitamin C will definitely not have unforeseen consequences. No one can fill that hole for me. He was complicated, unique, infuriatingly stubborn, generous, whacky, troubled, passionate and intensely interesting. My life and the lives of those that knew him are the better for having had him in them.

I love you brother, I miss you, and whenever I hear The Flaming Lips singing ‘Waitin’ for a Superman’, I’ll be thinking of you [yes, I know you’d prefer me to listen to Elaine Paige singing something instead, but you did enjoy the gig, no you did, you definitely told me you did, you spent hours telling me about the staging, don’t you remember Wayne rolling around the crowd in his ball and how the band had to stop because they used so much strobe lighting they caused an epileptic fit…okay…I get it…I understand now, you’ll always be there arguing and laughing in my thoughts; yes, I can do that for you brother].

Go gently Adam, you are loved.