I met Stu almost 2 years ago when I moved to Montreal for an English teaching position. He was a roommate that quickly became like family. For 6 months at our St-Urbain house, I was lucky to have gotten to know Stu and share so many moments with him along with our other close roomies, Paul and Roxane. I was new to the city, and I remember him introducing me to Montreal though the way he knew best, the music scene. After all, it was what had brought him there from England to establish his new home base. One of my first memories with him is going to Piknic Electronik music fest, in the late summer. At the time Peggy Gu’s ‘It Goes Like Nanana’ had become the anthem of the summer and we would find ourselves humming it together all the time, not knowing how the tune came back into our heads. We would ride our bike-share, BIXIS around in the hot, muggy air from out home in Le Plateau to downtown as we checked out events in the city. He let me tag along to a few things, not knowing how welcome and at home this made me feel in the the first few months.
As he worked from home, and I sometimes did as well, we would take breaks by having deep chats in the kitchen, many times joined by our other wonderful roomies. He would always have us giggling from his little bursts of energy, quirky moves, and unique mannerisms that made him, well, Stuart. “What’s the craic! How the hell are you?!” was a greeting you could always expect from him upon coming home and he often outstretched his arm to offer a nice, cold Boreal beer. I will always remember his iconic one-pot mix of rice, lentils, and chickpeas. It was a pile of protein and fibre, loaded with an eye watering number of hot peppers; a meal he had every single day. Lots of things brought him joy, but for some reason, food was something he viewed as practical for sustenance and not for yumminess, and he was always happy to explain and argue this point to you. He was such a social guy, and we would always laugh to ourselves that he was barely home anymore from all the events and music gigs he would be at. I remember one time he came back from a nearly 24-hour forest techno event, just to nap and get right back at it the same evening! His endurance was amazing when it came to attending the things he loved.
He was truly always himself and I don’t think he could ever pretend otherwise. There could be seven people starting a mosh pit in our living room, and he could sit down and meditate among the chaos. Meditation and journaling were his anchors, and he had a monk-like dedication to them, which I think contributed to his grounded-ness and his emotional intelligence. He always walked such a beautiful line between this peace/calm and spontaneity/extroversion. He had a prized record collection that travelled with him from England, and he never failed to share or blast his tunes with whoever was nearby, letting album after album play throughout the house. His room was a dark, windowless space, closed off to most, but you could tell that for him it was a sanctuary where he could take time to produce his music (ouicheval). I remember how different and quiet the house left after he moved out, and it became obvious that his presence was part of the glue that kept us all there. His absence inevitably led to many changes, though we all remained very close friends. He was a thorough believer in preserving things as they should be. Records had to be listened all the way through once started, no skips; French, which he taught himself, had to be learned the Canadian away, (we were in Montreal after all); and a beer was perfect for any moment and should always be finished.
It warms my heart to think about how cheery he was about the world around him. There was a constant perk in his step as walked around in his black newsboy hat, which was later replaced with a Mohawk-type hair style which really suited him. He helped me through what felt like a small a heartbreak and a move to a different apartment ; I was always grateful for his wisdom through stressful moments. He was humble and treated everyone with respect, it was truly hard to wrong Stu, for he was so gracious, understanding, and forgiving.
He was incredibly brave as well. He left the apartment April 1, 2024, to travel the world, after saving up for over a year. He was a programmer by day, and though it paid the bills, you could see that no job could keep him from scratching the itch he had to keep exploring the world, and I truly admired him for that. He had already left Ireland for England, England for Canada, and he was now off to touch down in other countries in Europe and Asia, many times couch-surfing and hitchhiking. He never rushed or made strict itineraries, and he let the people he met and the places he ended up in guide him. I moved back to British Columbia in Summer 2024, and Stu was able stay a week with me in July. I run a small cut flower business and Stu was so happy to help around the farm. Despite the 5:30 am starts, he would be out there with me cutting snapdragons and sunflowers, happy to be there. After he went off on his own travels for a month, we met up to head to Vancouver Island to visit a great mutual friend we had from Montreal, Rya. That week on Qualicum Beach, spent catching up on the beach, hiking, and basking in the sun were some of the truest moments of friendship I had felt in a while and were truly healing.
Thank you, Stu, for being such a beautiful human being. I will always long for that last phone call we were supposed to have, but I am grateful to be left with so many awesome memories to cherish. I’ll always think of you when I listen to Aphex Twin or Boards of Canada. To Stu’s family, my thoughts are with you as you navigate this difficult time. Your boy is incredible, and I hope that through this page you can see how many people adored him and what an impact he had across the globe throughout his 30 years on this Earth.
Love you forever, Stu.
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