I didn't know James Redington very well but certainly well enough to call him my friend. We first met a few years ago at one of the Bristol Expos and I was immediately struck by his incredible enthusiasm and "can do" attitude.
He was soon channelling his energies and talents into his own indy publishing concern - Portent Comics - enthusing everyone around him with his ideas and passion. He was amazingly prolific, banging out new titles left, right and centre, many of them written by him and in a wealth of genres. It was impossible not to be impressed, and my wallet was always a little lighter after a visit to the Portent table!
Between conventions we'd keep in touch via email, usually to see what new projects the other had got on and to compare notes about the comics-related events we'd recently attended. Bizarrely, I'd emailed James only a few hours before finding out about his death (I was angling for a plug for one of my books in his new SBC column). One of those strange coincidences, I guess.
The British indy comics scene is going to be considerably poorer without James in it. He was a really lovely fella and I never met anyone with a bad word to say about him. Likewise, I never heard him say a bad word about anyone else. He had everyone's respect, admiration and love.
James' passing at the age of 28 has been a terrible shock. I looked at my own two beautiful sons this morning and wondered how on earth I'd find the strength to carry on if anything happened to either of them. I can only imagine then the torment James' parents are going through right now. For what it's worth, I offer them my sincere condolences.
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