I only recently discovered Lorcan's memorial page. I was so sad to find out all those years ago that he had passed. We were family friends and spent time with Alice, Joe, Lorcan and Debbie when we were young along with my mum and siblings Jasmine and Alex. I always remember Lorcan being a lovely, chilled, warm and funny man. I remember once when we came to visit your house for a few days doing a puppet show at Lorcan's house and how much fun it was. He used to wind me up (in a funny way) and then would win me back over with his personality. On this occasion Lorcan had secretly put a leek in my welly boot and when I went to put it on he said something like 'You can't wear them anymore, there's a leek in your boot.' I then found the vegetable. Everyone found it hilarious, and I remember being really annoyed with him about it for some reason, but he tickled me and said something funny and then I could see the funny side of it all. I very suddenly lost my lovely dad last month and can relate to how Alice had described feeling about Lorcan. Much love to Lorcan and all his family xxx

Father's Day 2020. Reading through everyone's comments. He is really missing out on some Premier League craziness post lockdown. I used to watch the 10 o'clock news with him. He would say 'news news news news news news news time'. Keeping up his love of news - I always struggle not being able to discuss current affairs with him. Even if half his opinions soley came from The Guardian and that irritated me! I wonder what he would have made of some of their editorial decisions over the past few years. Would he have been a Corbyn fan? I still have quite significant Ptsd episodes from his sudden death. Sudden death is a totally crazy concept. It cuts through your reality and it creates an ever present anxiety - always on edge. Always thinking your loved ones are going to die overnight. Hard to get close to people for fear of it happening again. Time heals some stuff but the wounding is forever. Some of you knew him more than I ever will. I was too young. I don't know him really. All your comments and memories are very welcome. I piece together what kind of person he was from your memories. The saddest thing about grief is how it can rob what little memory you did have. Some kind of protective mechanism, it's too painful to remember. I always thought this would go away, but it has yet to. I'm 31 now. I'm still 20 in many respects, so much of be died overnight when he did. Or was frozen in time. I wish I was more able to post a nice Father's Day message, thanking him - but the reality is I don't remember him or what to thank him for. I'll try: He always gave me hugs, he was very affectionate and warm. He always laughed at my drawings and my jokes. We definitly shared a sense of humour and sweetness. I thank him for these things. He also always had 6music on, and 6music has carried me through these years! He was too young to die. He was still only getting over his marriage break up. He had so much to learn himself still. To me he seemed repressed in many ways and recovering from life shattering changes. What would he have done after the pub? What did he want to do with his life? Would he have carried on writing? Would he have moved to Ireland with Angela? Would he have got back into music? Would he still be a landlord? I only knew him really when he was a landlord. More thank yous: He came to visit me and my brother all the time. He spent all his money on train tickets and things for us to do. He stayed with his in-laws even after the divorce, so it would be easy for us. He even stayed with my Mum's partner at the time, who offered his house. He had us for every holiday. He never, ever didn't show up. Sometimes he was unbelievably grumpy but he was always there. He took me to my interview for CSM. He inspired such confidence. I watched him walk into this incredible establishment as if he belonged there, which is not how I felt at all. I copied him and still to this day I walk in places as if I belong there which is a total cover up for deep, deep insecurity! He took me to galleries with the same confidence. Like we were allowed into these places. 100% I wouldnt have gone to art school without him. I wouldn't be where I am today without him at all. He elivated my life. He gave me intelligence to continuely learning my whole life. And to always question and stay curious. I inherited some of his less desirable qualities too. Its hard to grow up without being able to have some of these conversations or arguments with him to. He wasn't a saint, but when someone dies, that's what we elivate them to. I guess being alive means you still have the chance every day to keep developing yourself and keep working on things that have kept you depressed, or down or small or quiet. If he had still been alive during lockdown, it would have been the most impossible task to not be able to see him. Since they eased lockdown, it has been more painful for me than it has for a long time, because I can't go and see him and I'm watching so many people reunite with their families. In another reality we would have been having our own garden 2m parties and my life wouldn't be so lacking in this area. Anyway, I must be grateful. There is no other option except to carry on without him, which is easier now than it was 11 years ago when it was unthinkable, and required copeous amounts of alcohol to do so. Big thanks on Father's day to my uncle Damie who has never ever stopped being there for me. And to Ciaran too, who helps me feel like I have family everytime he visits. Thanks to everyone who shared memories about him. And Happy Fathers day to you, Pa. Xxx

I was heartbroken to discover this news on the interweb. I worked with Lorcan in Our Price in Birmingham for around 9 months after it opened towards the end of 1987, as his assistant manager. He lives in Cheltenham and I here in Newport, Shropshire, and so we spent many hours on New Street Station, or more accurately in The Shakespeare. I am now 56, and when I cast my mind back there have been perhaps a half dozen people over the years who changed my way of thinking, by showing that there is a more honest, a more morally sound way to live. Lorcan was one. He was very kind to my now sadly late wife, and for that alone I shall never forget him. Reading these comments it breaks my heart that we lost touch, yet when I choose to do the right thing in certain situations, Lorcan’s calm voice is one of those which I hear. Good night fella, you made me a better man. Graham Kenyon, Lancastrian exiled in Shropshire