I remember: a big Brother Chris who at 8 seemed so much older and wiser than me as we went on adventure walks down Carlton with my Nan-nan Dolly's Sheep Cur, Dixie who always stopped and chose a nice pebble to take home.

I remember hot summer Holidays in Scarborough, flying kites, fishing for crabs, exploring rock pools, assaulting the Castle with our Knights, cheering at the Naval Battle and returning weary to Mr. Temple's boarding house.

I remember long hours at Cannon Hall, a walk around the 'big' ouse', net and bucket for the pond, big Brother catching Bull heads and sometimes a Trout in the lake before a picnic on the grass and bombing home as passengers in Dad's Combination. .

I remember us both building model aeroplanes to fly on the 'Pit Field' at Athersley my 20" 'Cub' and Chris's 6 foot 'Marauder' floating on the warm summer thermals sometimes followed by an evenings airgun target practice supervised by Dad.

I remember our old School, Edward Sheerien, halting Assembly to announce Chris had won 'Apprentice of the Year' when training with N. G. Baileys and me being called up, unexpectedly, to collect it from the Headmaster Roy Hilton while he spoke of Chris with joy. 

I remember a tiny fragile baby girl too eager to emerge and a proud nervous Dad pausing through the maternity window, followed a few years later by a little blonde clone of Chris: Sharon and Andrew who both grew to become lively, beautiful, hard working and wise adults.

I remember two slightly cautious old gimmers, Chris and I, deciding to join the Staincross Rifle Club our old Dad had been a member of 60 years prior and being welcomed immediately, both of us entering a world of kindred spirits, all ex tradesmen with stories to tell and advice to exchange. Something we should have done 20 years ago.

I remember 62 years of a big Brother with never a bad word, always there through thick and thin, always happy to help, always putting a positive spin on the worst times and always, always, a best friend as much as Brother. The hole in my soul will never be filled, goodnight Chris.