I’m writing this because no-one (apart from his close circle of friends) will know of John Russell-Brown – or JRB as we called him. I have to admit I’m no longer one of them as I haven’t seen JRB for many years, but all will become clear later.

Sadly, JRB died of cancer on the 3rd October, in London. Apparently, he’d been ill for several years but decided to refuse any more treatment.

I first met Jon when I was applying to live in the housing co-op in East London which became my home for a decade back in the 1980-90s. JRB was a friend of friends and when I got a flatshare there in 1986 we were allocated a flat just a few doors down the same balcony from JRB. The whole balcony became thick as thieves as we had a lot in common – beer (real beer) being one of them, although thinking back to those times my poison was real cider. Oh, there was food too. Jon lived on his own and could be quite a private person. He never married and in all the years I knew him he never had a partner. That was never a problem. Many of us didn’t – we just all gelled. It was very heady days. Then, Jon was a dispatch rider, often travelling daft distances on his motorcycle to deliver stuff. These were the days before the internet – or Amazon when you could make a living doing such things.

Jon could be quite imposing in his leathers. He was tall, well-built (but not fat) bearded with close cropped hair. He was also a gentle giant. He had a stammer, which I think he was quite conscious of but none of us ever mentioned, why would we? He was just a lovely bloke – and very knowledgeable about beer – and politics. We became good friends and part of a small group I nicknamed ‘The Corbin drinking crew’ – Corbin House being the name of block on Bromley High St we lived in.

Jon was also very well read. We used to have parties in his small flat which was filled with books and beer memorabilia. I remember he used to make his own houmous which contained so many cloves of garlic you wouldn’t have seen a vampire for miles!

Sadly, when Lynn and I moved to Crouch End in North London I lost touch with Jon – apart from when I attended the Great British Beer Festival (GBBF) where I knew I’d catch up with Jon as he was a volunteer on the Foreign beer stand. Sadly, moving to Yorkshire (and Covid) prevented me being there for some time.

But I’ve never forgotten Jon, or those fabulous and special days living in Corbin House. God, we used to have fun. Travelling around London to different pubs, attending the Canterbury beer festival and many others – and simply having a great time.

I’ve hundreds of pictures from those days but right now this is the only one I can find that I’ve scanned. I’ll do better soon. Here’s JRB flying kites with the rest of us on (I think) Blackheath in May 1995. I know I have better pictures. I’ll find one soon.

Jon may have gone – before his time too – but he’ll always live on in my memory, and that of all those of us who knew him. Sleep well, gentle giant. See you on the other side…