Andrew
I first met John in the late 60s when I was sent, as ignorant southerner, to work in Birmingham and was looking for accommodation to share. By following a newspaper advert in a personal column (remember those?) I ended up in a house in Moseley with John, that turned out to have such thin walls we would jump out of our skins when the next door neighbour shouted at his unruly dog. We froze in that house and before the next winter moved on to sharing a flat in an apartment block just off the Hagley Road. John took me under his wing and taught me the joys of the Brummy, pub-based culture of the Duck in Edgbaston and the delightful country pubs for miles around. We ended up both moving to Belbroughton, our favourite among those many pubs and enjoyed each other’s company in the bar, on the odd summer holiday in France and through the delights of village life, until I left to work in the Netherlands in 1984. Even after that John and Pat welcomed me with open arms many a night when I had a work meeting in the Birmingham area the next day. Thank you for that always open door.
John, rest in peace: I know you will as long as you have a welcoming pub within walking distance.