Nik

I still cannot believe Nik has gone.

It’s been a pleasure to meet and work with him for 40 years. He was always there at social events, good crack at work — whether on a spare or a break, sitting on a seat at the top of Northumberland Street in Newcastle for an hour, or walking around Leeds city centre with a trip into the record fair at the Corn Exchange, with Nik telling me how much the heavy metal vinyls were worth.

Nik made work feel less like a job and more like a day out with your pal. A friendly manager once said to me: “You probably spend more time with people at work than you do with your own family, working these shifts.” Well, I cannot think of anyone else than Nik Brown I’d rather have had the pleasure to know, and to crack on with over a coffee (and a green tea for Nik).

He loved recalling all his trips abroad — Lanzarote, Cuba, and his visit to the Havana Club with Ali. His passion for motorbikes, his trips to Donny, his heavy metal bands and concerts, and chilling out with his best pal Paul Carpenter — he was living life to the fullest.

I always thought Nik was a guy who would live to a hundred plus, being chilled out, never flustered, taking everything in his stride, and never seeming to look any older. He was a friend to everyone who met him.

It’s devastating for Ali, Chris, Sammy, Nikki, and the rest of his family — including the dogs he talked about endlessly. He was a proud husband, father, son, and grandfather.

Memories of Nik always bring back a smile: from him walking into the signing-on point as a traction trainee, to seeing him covered in coal dust from shovelling coal on the steam train between Carlisle and Kirkby Stephen — and still having that grin! He spoke of holidays with the family in southern Scotland, at Gatehouse of Fleet if I recall — he said it was fantastic.

We talked often of our own kids, now grown up with families of their own. That wicked sense of humour, always up for a laugh, was just part of who Nik was.

When my time comes to climb that stairway, I can just imagine Nik peering behind those gates, whispering: “Ozzy, Lemmy, turn up those amps to full! Bully (Neil Bulman, Nik’s friend), grab that guitar — we’ll blast him off those steps!”

This time, I won’t be up those ladders cleaning the gutters as Nik blasts the car horn all the way up the street with his cheeky grin.

It was a pleasure to meet and work with you, Nik. Until tomorrow and beyond — too many memories to ever forget you, pal. We all miss you.

— Martin Robertshaw