Today, I’ll be saying a very fond but sad farewell to David Kennedy, a very dear friend, who was taken by cancer at the stupidly young age of 59.
Kenno was what I most enjoyed calling him, as to do so would mean we were in a social setting. It was David whenever we dealt with one another over work-related issues; he was, for the best part of 30 years, the Head of Communications for the organisation which looks after the interests of all local councils in Scotland, and I, for quite a number of those years, was either a political advisor and/or spin doctor for one of those councils. He was brilliant at his job, making it look easy thanks to his professionalism and dedication, along with an incredible ability to get on with everyone he dealt with, be they politicians, journalists or work colleagues. I don’t ever recall meeting anyone who didn’t like David Kennedy, the communications guru.
I got lucky. Two of his closest colleagues at work were James and Alan – better known round these parts as Jacques the Kipper and Aldo, and through them, I got to socialise with Kenno outside the work environment, and before long, we saw ourselves more as friends than as folk who occasionally chatted about the Scottish political media.
By far, his biggest love was for his family – his wife Jane and their kids, Rachel and Adam. He was also very close to his parents. In later years, he doted on the family dog. His other big passions were football and music. His team was Heart of Midlothian FC and his pop tastes were incredibly eclectic, but his biggest idols were Paul Weller and Dusty Springfield – indeed, the puppy which came into the family home a few years back was named Dusty. He was also something of a mod at heart, to the extent that many years ago he bought himself a scooter which he called Ruby, and they spent many warm afternoons and evenings heading out on adventures around the country roads close to where he lived, in a small semi-rural town some ten miles south-west of Edinburgh.
Kenno was brought up in what, back in the 60s, would best be described as a classic working-class family, and the traits and values passed down by his parents never left him. He remained a committed socialist his whole life, but of the pragmatic rather than dogmatic type. He grasped the educational opportunities afforded him and in doing so, not only ensured his career would be spent in white-collar industries rather than in any sort of back-breaking manual labour, but made his parents incredibly proud of his achievements.
It didn’t take long for us to realise and acknowledge that while we might have been products of two cities separated by 45 miles on different sides of Scotland, we really had an awful lot in common. We even discovered our teenage years had seen us go out and earn money delivering newspapers to the houses of our neighbours, and coming to something of a realisation that this may have subconsciously led us both to our eventual careers.
In saying all that, the best times we always had would come when we weren’t being serious with one another. The occasions when I would accuse him of not really being working class as he was from snobby Edinburgh where his secondary school offered the option of playing rugby as well as football; he would retort by reminding me that I now resided in one of the poshest districts of Glasgow and indeed lived in a property (he called it a castle) which was known to all and sundry as Villain Towers. When I would accuse him of having dull and boring music tastes, on the basis that all his gigs seemed to be only singers/band who had chart-topping hits and were always in venues that were large-scale and comfortably seated, he would accuse me of not really liking all the stuff I mentioned on the blog, and that it was just a front and a sad effort to still appear hip and/or trendy.
Kenno was, as you might expect from a man with such a great grounding in communications, a very early adopter and user of social media. His Facebook postings to his well over 600 friends were always worth reading. He championed loads of causes, and he wrote of his admiration for those who achieved political and social change in an unjust world. He was also an incredibly witty and funny person, capable of sending himself up something rotten. He was forever posting the most ludicrous betting tips; every time Hearts took the field, Kenno would be urging you to place a bet on them winning, coming up with two or three other equally unlikely suggestions for an accumulator that invited ridicule – and he got it in spades. Oh, and he was forever reminding everyone of what was the best day of any week, doing so with some sort of photo of Bob Hoskins and Helen Mirren as they appeared in the 1980 film, The Long Good Friday.
A few years ago, we were out having a few drinks and laughs when Kenno mentioned that, despite his surname and the fact he loved a pint of Guinness, he had never set foot in Ireland. Making a mental note of said fact, it would later lead to me hatching a specific plan as part of what I intended to be a year-long run of events to celebrate my 60th birthday.
Seven of us, including Jacques and Aldo, ended up spending an unforgettable weekend in and around Westport in County Mayo back in May 2023. Kenno, more than anyone, relished the occasion, incredibly happy that he had made it across to Ireland and that it had gone beyond his wildest expectations. Such was his infectious personality that he instantly became friends with a good number of people in the town, all of whom told him to hurry back. He was keen to take them up on their offers, determined the next time to take Jane along so that she could see for herself just what made the town and people of Westport so very special.
Sadly, it never happened. Kenno, until maybe a year or so ago, had lived a very healthy and untroubled life, and then he was diagnosed with an aggressive form of cancer that was already at an advanced stage. He fought his illness as hard as anyone could, undergoing a nine-hour operation, six cycles of chemo, six rounds of radiotherapy and two lots of targeted drug therapy. But the bastard disease claimed another victim.
Jane, Rachel and Adam are determined that today will very much be a celebration of David’s life, and I have no doubt it will be. Just about every one of those Facebook friends will be there, along with as big a number again who don’t use social media. We will come from all corners of Scotland (and beyond) and all walks of life, and we will pay a full and deserved tribute to an extraordinary man.
Rest in Peace, mate….and be assured that you really did make the world a better place for those of us lucky enough to have known you.
mp3 : The Jam – A Solid Bond In Your Heart (demo)
Better known as a hit single for The Style Council, this early fully-worked-up demo take also includes a few lines that would later be used as part of Beat Surrender, the final 45 released by The Jam. And in the TSC video, Paul Weller can be seen riding a scooter………
THE NEW VINYL VILLAIN 