My older brother John and I have enjoyed a jokey argument for the last 50 years or so. Both of us, like my other two brothers, were born in ‘God’s Own Country’ : Yorkshire in the north-east of England. However, my mother and father were from Sligo and Dublin respectively. I have always felt connected to my ancestors and, perhaps because I have a very Irish name, felt that Irish culture expressed what I was. I am Irish and hold an Irish passport. John went bush. He was a fiercely proud Yorkshireman which, if you don’t know, is the factory setting. He was English and had a British passport. Brexit was a taunter’s dream for me.

John Thompson 1951 – 2024

Although cancer had weakened him mightily he was smiling as they played him the commentary of Leeds United beating Norwich in the semi-final of the League 1 Play-Offs.

Three days later he passed away.

When he died, almost without thinking, I went on to Facebook, which, as my friends and acquaintances know, acts as my parish bulletin; and I did three things. I posted the white rose of Yorkshire on my profile. I added the song ‘When an Old Cricketer Leaves the Crease’ by Roy Harper and I further added what is considered the Yorkshire anthem, ‘On Ilkley Moor’.

I also wrote to Leeds United to thank them that one of J0hn’s last experiences was joy at their success. They were kind enough to reply and promised to pass my letter on to the team. Maybe a little bit of him will be there in the spirit of the team at Wembley on Sunday.

Post Dictum

Leeds United were beaten by Southampton 1-0. Previously John and I would have been texting each other about the game and many times I felt that impulse to reach for my phone. Each time reality slapped me in the face. He is dead. And I missed him so much.

I tried to rise above it so as not to affect my companion, my anamchara; ‘the show must go on’. But I couldn’t and it didn’t.

Another day.