My Big Star

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All three articles are different really but they all tell the same story. A man was killed on the A35, between Kilve and Willton, which are just outside of Somerset. Each story have made out that it was the crash that killed him, but it wasn't.

John Edward MacDonald was a 61 year old long distance lorry driver from Stirchley, Birmingham. His family had moved from Birmingham to Liverpool and back and forth all their lives, and after his 6 six siblings were born, the family moved back to Birmingham for good. John went on to become an usher in a cinema in Quinton, a paint stripper in a family company and a driver for anyone and everything. He drove for the Physically Disabled Able Bodied club in Birmingham and for the Stroke Club so he was always helping someone out, especially if they were a staunch Bluenose like himself.

After the family company closed down, John carried on his career of driving and got himself a job at Solus Garden and Leisure, the local garden centre. His job took him everywhere in the country - every Wednesday he would get up at quarter past four and catch the ferry to the Isle of Wight, where he would then deliver the goods to many garden centres. Other times, he would go down to his second home, Weston Super Mare. He and his wife Lillian had a caravan down there and they would often take their five grandchildren down for the weekend. It just so happens that on Friday 25th January, he was given the wrong drop down to Somerset. He happily obliged - John would do anything to get down there.

I can't help but think that if he wasn't given that drop, then he'd still be here.

John was given three drops around Bridgewater and its neighbouring towns - he had already finished two of them by nine o'clock. He was just on his way to his last drop when he began to feel ill. John drove his seven and half tonne lorry off the road to safety, where he "kissed" the trunk of a tree. He then proceeded to fall out of the cab of the lorry onto the ground, where he passed away. It wasn't the crash that killed him, as the newspaper articles suggest. It was a severe heart attack which basically caused his heart to explode - one comforting thought is that he didn't suffer at all and that it was over in a second.

God knows he hated pain, did our John. You only had to touch his "bad thumb" and he'd scream in pain. It's reassuring to know that he didn't suffer, and another helpful thought is that he's a hero.

My Grandad was a hero. If he hadn't have come off the road, so many other families would have been going through what we're going through now, and for that I'm so grateful. Of course, I'd prefer it if I had my Grandad back here, moaning and shoving his opinion down our throats, but I can make do with the fact that he saved peoples lifes. I raise my glass to my Grandad, and I applaud him for driving off the road.

On the 8th February 2008, the funeral took place at Stourbridge Crematorium - on the back of the Order of Service, we gave the people who went a choice. They could either give flowers or they could donate to Devon Air Ambulance, who flew my Grandad in to Exeter Hospital. We've already collected five hundred pound for the charity and we hope to receive more. My Grandad would have been proud of the fact that everyone wanted to help the charity that tried to help him.

John Edward MacDonald could be an amazing bloke but he could also be a stubborn berk. He had his opinions and boy did he bloody let 'em come through. England was his country, Birmingham was his city and that was it - he stuck by them until the end. If he saw someone he didn't like on the telly, he told us so and ranted about them until everyone told him to shut up. I wouldn't have made him any different because he was my Grandad.

++++++++++
++++++++++sleep right, twinkle bright.
++++++++++rip john macdonald