We knew Chris for around twelve years, meeting him and Christine in Bol, Croatia. Chris was always a larger than life character; strong views, strong minded, didn't suffer fools gladly or otherwise, intelligent, well educated and good fun. Chris had a great sense of humour and would deliver wry insights on life which were both perceptive and extremely amusing. He was proud of his cultural heritage and always stayed true to his roots and what he believed in. Chris loved a drink and we enjoyed his and Christine's company, having many an interesting, funny and entertaining evening in the bars of Bol.

There are many evenings or events we could share, including the famous Cherry Brandy occasion, but perhaps we won't go there, Christine!
The night (and it was a whole night) we will share is one evening when Chris and Christine came for dinner. We ate on our small balcony, enjoying food, wine and other alcoholic beverages. Christine decided to walk home in the wee small hours and I decided it was time for bed too, so left Chris and Andrew drinking (grappa by this time) and talking. As the bedroom led off from the balcony, I could hear the calibre of the discourse and, believe me, as the grappa bottle got lower so did the quality of the conversation. Alcoholic drivel and laughter would probably best describe it.
At length, Chris decided he maybe ought to go home. As he intended driving home on his scooter, I practically begged him to stay the night. He refused, and I listened to his confident but unsteady progress down the stairs and corridor as he ricocheted from wall to wall, knocking down various items such as deck chairs, laundry drying racks and other seaside paraphernalia as he went. There was quite a lot of mumbling and a huge amount of cursing, at which point I heard Andrew follow him, knocking down anything Chris had left standing. More cursing and laughter ensued. Eventually Chris left, much to my consternation. Andrew collapsed in a heap and was a very sorry picture the following morning.
His distress was compounded, however, by a text message from Christine, thanking us for keeping Chris for the night! Andrew was extremely worried and set off, looking all over Bol for Chris and his scooter. To cut a long story short, Andrew eventually found Chris at home with Christine. Apparently he had attempted to get on his scooter, but kept falling off it. He did think about coming back and knocking on the door but, true to form, the man who always said he could sleep anywhere and on a clothes line if necessary, simply curled up in the yard in front of our apartment and slept soundly for the few hours left of darkness and then went home in the morning, none the worse for either the grappa or the concrete bed.

Chris loved Christine and his family very much. Sometimes he had a very unique, northern way of expressing his love, but that was just what made him Chris.
We shall miss him, as will so many other people.
Rest in Peace, Chris, and we hope the beer's good, wherever you are.
Mandy and Andrew X