This is the post I would never have wished to write.
Ever since I was fourteen months old, my brother Chris has been the companion and rival of my childhood, and lifelong friend.
Here we are posing for a studio portrait in the suits Mum made us for the Victory Street Party in 1945
In 1947 he first broke his leg in the garden of 29a Stanton Road. Our grandmother in Durham dressed us in her pink petticoats before we returned home to
greet our new sister Jacqueline
who was toddling by 1949 when we wore fair aisle jumpers Mum had knitted.
In 1950 we had another holiday in Durham where we sat on our grandparents garden wall,
and again in 1951 where we had a trip to the seaside.
Even Mum doesn’t know where this shot was taken in 1952.
No self respecting budding guitarist in a University band was complete in 1960 without his Hank Marvin specs.
At my wedding to Jackie on 2nd March 1968 neither the groom nor the best man was free of embarrassment when the photographer required us jointly to kiss the bride.
When, in March 2004 Sam completed his epic Atlantic Row in Port St Charles, Barbados, Chris was there, with Frances and Fiona, accompanying Jessica and me on the welcoming yacht.
Later that year the family celebrated the event with a special dinner. Chris, Frances, and Fiona were there with most of the family.
When Jacqueline celebrated her 60th birthday in Boston, Lincolnshire on 14th April 2007 he was his usual cheerful self.
He was the father of the bride when, in August of that year, Fiona married Paul. No doubt he was pulling my leg when Elizabeth caught us on camera.
Chris and Frances made several trips to Sigoules. Not far from there live his boyhood friend Mike Ozga and his wife Oona. We visited them April 2009, where Elizabeth photographed us.
Naturally he was party to my surprise seventieth birthday celebration in July 2012.
Chris was one of those very rare beings – a truly good man.
He died peacefully this morning after a short illness.