Our Dad


Our Dad, John Patrick Brennan was born in Cloonagh, Co Sligo, in the West of Ireland on the 7th September 1939. His parents were Paddy and Delia. He was the oldest of 6 children. With brothers Martin, Peter, Tony, Noel and sister Mary.


Dad left school the day before his 13th birthday because there was work to do on the farm. However, he was always proud of his education. Dad always said he went to high school but what he meant was, it was on a hill. In truth he went to school because he had to, not because he wanted to. 


He left Ireland on 1st January 1959 with his cousin Martin Brennan at the age of 20. He left Ireland because there was no work, which was prevalent at the time, with many, many, Irish leaving home for mainly England, America and Australia. He never lost his love for Ireland, always considered it home and was proud to be Irish, even though he spent more time in England than he did there. He had nothing but good things to say about England,  saying it gave him a job, a life and a family.


Dad had various jobs around the country, he mentioned Bath, Newcastle and Hastings, amongst other places he worked but all based the roads and construction industry. Once you were with a company, you could be moved to a different part of the country with very little notice, being told on a Friday, to report to somewhere new on the Monday. Dad always said if you had good digs, they were clean, the food was good and plentiful then you would be moved on, if they were rubbish then you would be the there for ever. Dad had a sharp witty sense of humour, which often got him into trouble, an example of this was a landlady at a particular house who was feeding everybody on boiled eggs, little or no sign of any meat. There was a knock at the door when the eggs were being served, she said there was a stranger at the door and as quick as anything Dad replied, “it must be the butcher” Everybody fell about laughing, the landlady was not amused and promptly chucked them all out of the digs there and then.


It was tough hard work, but Dad looked at a job as a gift to provide for yourself and family, not as a chore. He was proud to say he had never claimed dole or benefits every in his life.


Before Dad bought his first car, he had a motorbike. I know he had an AJS 650 which Martin used to ride pillion but that wasn’t a comfortable place to be. Dad used to be upfront, with his cigarette lit and anybody behind would be covered in ash, getting their eyes burnt, as Martin once told me. After his third accident, Dad retired from motorbikes as he decided they clearly were not for him. So he ventured on to the four wheel version of transport…a car!


The afternoon after passing his car test he was driving a lorry; years ago it was easier to be promoted, unlike today.  The foreman saw something in Dad and promoted him from the shovel to lorry driver. Sometime later he bought his first lorry, a Ford Thames Trader, in yellow. The lorry proved to be the reason he hated yellow, because he never had a straight day with it, there was a break down or problem every day! Himself and Martin got together  and PJC Haulage was formed, which eventually became Brennan Transport. They had various yards, Knowle Hill, Swallowfield Pig Farm, Field Road, to name but a few, various contracts, Hoveringhams, Sparks Bros, Wimpey and eventually Foster Yeomans when they opened at Theale. There were many lorries and drivers throughout this time. Dad will always be associated with his Big Green Foden in Sparks colours which he kept going to the end. Lorries evolved becoming quicker, safer and comfortable, but Dad was always happy with what he had and took pride in being able to drive and work something that nobody else could. He wasn’t interested in new and shiny and indeed speed was never his thing! 


Drivers tell me when they reported a problem to Dad, he would ask could they still drive it and could they still work. If the answer was yes, then dad would say carry on and we will see how it goes! It was all about getting that next load delivered and when the work was done then he worried about the problem.


One of Dad’s main focuses was tyres! He would get miles out of tyres long after others had given up on them. He could often be found out at Foster Yeomans on a sunny Sunday afternoon, plugged into Kiwi’s electric, with a flask of tea, listening to Irish Eye on the radio, cutting his beloved tyres, getting the last millimetre from them. This was known as tickling the tyres. He was chuffed to bits with the extra miles he got out of them! 


Dad’s other love was buying and selling. Cars, vans, lorries, anything really that other people found no value in but he strived to sell and make a profit on. That’s when you would see the twinkle in his eye, a little grin, him reaching for the phone and dialling a number from his little black book, held together by elastic bands and hope...!   


In the late eighties he bought and sold countless vehicles from Motorway tyres. If people had a car to sell, they contacted Dad, if they wanted to buy a car Dad normally had something to sell. People turned up at the house at all times of the night and day, and they were always welcome. When this dried up, he moved onto car boot sales, selling anything he could get his hands on, car accessories, Vaseline skin cream, Jurassic Park Plasters, ladies tops, the list goes on but he loved doing them. It was the interaction with people he loved, he was a great peoples person, could talk to anyone from all walks of life, finding the most obscure thing funny.


Dad loved the simple things in life. He smoked, which was his one vice in life, he never drank alcohol or “Porter” as he called it. His needs were simple, if he was warm, dry (he hated the rain!!), he had something to smoke and a fine meal, he was happy. He was especially happy if the meal was finished off with Ice Cream! He loved nature and animals. Any animal would receive as much fuss as they wanted. Dad loved his cat, Oliver, that incidentally wasn’t his to start with but kept coming into the house. Dad would make a big fuss of him and after a while he was ours to keep. He loved his grandchildren, playing cards with them, listening to their banter, joke with them, turning up with his blue corner shop bags full of sweets and chocolate every week. He always seemed to have good timing and would arrive just before dinner or bedtime with the goods!


The last few years of his life were not good to him, when Dementia and Covid got hold, but he fought it all to the end and every so often you would see a little twinkle in his eye.


This is just a small part of Dads life with many many more stories, that could be told, and most people will be able to remember a ‘John Brennan’ moment that makes them smile. He was generous, kind, funny, always laughing and smiling, always ready to help others with no fuss, very hardworking and never in a rush! Dad you were a legend and we were lucky that you were ours.
You are returning home to your beloved Ireland 62 years nearly to the day.


We love you Dad and miss you so much already… Rest in peace.