Brendan Jordan “Jammy”

“May the road rise up to meet you, may the wind be always at your back”

Brendan sadly passed away unexpectedly on Saturday 5th March 2022 aged 80 years.

The beloved Husband of the late Joan. Much loved Dad to Ciaron, Declan and the late Liam.

Also a cherished Grandad and dearest Brother to Maureen.

Brendan’s funeral took place on Friday 8th April in St Marys of the Immaculate Conception R.C. Church at 12noon followed by Cremation.

Kind donations for Alder Hey Childrens Hospital.

For further information and to offer your condolences, please telephone our Funeral Home on 01270 584447.

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Brendan Michael Jordan was born in May 1941 to Martin and Teresa Jordan. Whilst
Brendan’s father, Martin, was one of 9 his mother, Teresa, was the youngest of 16 Sweeney
children. By the time Teresa was born many of her older siblings had already emigrated
away from Ireland meaning that they would sadly never be given the opportunity to meet.
Early in the 1930’s came Teresa’s time to move away from Ireland. Travelling from County
Leitrim across the Irish Sea she settled in Manchester where soon after arriving she would
meet her husband-to-be, Martin. The two married in Salford, before relocating to
Sandbach, Cheshire where Brendan was born, followed two years later by his sister
Maureen. In 1945, Martin and Teresa moved their young family to Sadlers farm in Acton,
Nantwich where they resided in a property supplied by the farmer who owned the land upon
which they worked. Five years later in 1950, a house was secured in Wilbraham Road,
Acton where the family lived for a number of years, providing the adventurous and free-
spirited young Brendan with a new world around which to roam and climb. Brendan often
spoke warmly of the freedom he enjoyed during those early years. The opportunity to
spend his childhood in such an environment no doubt lit the flames of his keen interest in
nature, wildlife, and the great outdoors that continued to burn strongly throughout the
course of his life. In recent years, Brendan took great enjoyment in taking long walks
around the area where he had grown up, reliving fond childhood memories and stopping to
talk with some of the locals along the way to reminisce about what had changed and what
had remained the same.

As a young man, Brendan developed a keen interest in anything electrical and on
leaving school went on to serve an apprenticeship with a local electrical contractor. A spell
with British Rail came next before a number of years working for ICL in Winsford. Brendan
made a great deal of friends along the way, many of whom he would keep in touch with as the

years passed by, swapping favours, sharing specialist tools, and picking each other’s
brains.

As a young man, Brendan’s other main love in life was motorbikes – the bigger and
faster the better. Brendan’s bike riding became notorious around the local area, a rebel
and a thrill seeker who would push things to the limit and sometimes beyond. Whilst
working at a local nightclub, a bouncer and giant of a man, once told one of Brendan’s
children how being on the back of his motorbike had been the most frightening experience
of his life and that having reached their destination safely didn’t know if he should ‘hug
Brendan or hit him’. Brendan’s love of motorbikes would take him all over this country and
others, including trips to the Isle of Man TT and across to Ireland to visit with his Aunty
Delia in Gurteen, Sligo. Brendan’s Norton was a source of great pride and riding a bike was
a sign of youth that he refused to ever let go. Never letting the dust settle on his
motorbike leathers, even in his 80 th year Brendan made the long trip across to his beloved
Ireland on his motor bike.

It was tearing around the local area on his Gold Star, that first brought Brendan to
the attention of a young girl called Joan Rhead, who at the time was a pupil at Nantwich &
Acton Grammar school. Reportedly impressed by his motorbike she agreed to go on a date,
with Brendan picking her up from outside school before screaming off down the road
together. Joan and Brendan were to be married soon after and went on to spend many
happy years together. Boxes full of photographs capture them throughout their youth,
typically with a drink in hand and always laughing whilst surrounded by an array of close
friends.

Brendan and Joan went onto have three children together, all boys and each gifted
with Irish names in a nod to their father’s heritage. The eldest, Ciaron, was born in 1969
followed four years later by Liam, and then 8 years later by their youngest, Declan. It was
whilst the children were still young that Brendan made the decision to go self-employed,
firstly as a plumber and electrician before moving on to become a gas central heating
engineer. Only having a motorbike licence at the time meant that Brendan was restricted to
driving a three-wheel vehicle, a Reliant-Robin, which due to its colour Joan nicknamed ‘the
Pink Pig’. With lengths of copper pipe always strapped to the side, the van soon became
well-known around the local area as Brendan built up his business. When the Queen visited
Crewe and the road outside the Rising Sun pub was cordoned off the ‘pink pig’ was the last
vehicle let through, meaning that the crowds who had gathered outside cheered loudly and
all raised their drinks as Brendan chugged past, grinning, and waving royally out of the van
window.

Brendan worked extremely hard over the coming years, building up a loyal customer
base, many of whom he remained friends with and continued to call in on and do jobs for as
the years passed by. Through his work, Brendan also built close relationships with many
members of the local Asian community, earning himself invites to family weddings and other
special occasions. Brendan took pride in taking on jobs that others would turn down and
built a reputation for being willing to tackle anything, from the ground up to roof level.
Even in his last week, Brendan had been sourcing timber for a homemade cat ladder, which
to the horror of friends and family he had made to go up on the roof of his house to fix an
aerial for a television he rarely ever watched. Telling Brendan that something was
dangerous and that you were worried only made him worse. Telling him he needed to slow
down was equally futile and he would laugh as he walked into Plumb Centre or City Electrics
and have people ask, ‘have you not retired yet?’

Like many, it took Brendan time to grow into the role of father, mellowing with age
and finding a sense of balance between work and family life. In the early years, time off at
weekends meant forced walks in the freezing cold up Beeston Castle or Bickerton Hills,
being thrown over the wall at different events or having to scramble through the woods and
across the racetrack at Oulton Park because he refused to pay any entry fees. In the years
that followed this was replaced by standing on the sides of football and cricket pitches,
quietly supporting his youngest son, Declan, spending endless hours together developing
their love for sport. Rides on the back of motorbikes with young children freezing cold and
clinging on for dear life were replaced by trips in the van, listening to music. In the early
90’s Brendan made the decision to join his local tennis club, a short walk away from where
they lived. Due in large part to the many great people he met whilst there, Brendan
remained a loyal member of the tennis club for over 30 years, and it was a place that meant
a great deal to him. Whether it was the many hours spent with Declan hitting balls together
or joining up for a game of doubles at club nights or on a Thursday morning, it was a place
where Brendan was always looked after and felt at peace.

In 2007, Brendan sadly lost his dear wife, Joan, after a long and difficult battle with
cancer. Without Joan by his side, Brendan, an always strong and durable man felt strangely
vulnerable. The sad loss of his brother-in-law and dear friend, Tim McGonigle, shortly after
only made things even more challenging. It was around this time that Brendan moved to
live with his eldest son, Ciaron, and daughter-in-law, Carlie, whilst he considered how to try
and make a fresh start. After seeing the work Ciaron had done to the house, Brendan
decided that he wanted to move back into the family home where he was surrounded by
happy memories and familiar faces. With the support of his family and thanks in great part

to the kindness shown to him by neighbours, customers, and members of the tennis club,
Brendan was able to find some sense of stability and routine again. He would rise early and
go out walking for hours, calling in for a brew at different places along the way.

Brendan was also carried through by a love for his three grandchildren, Melody,
Maya (pronounced Mayor), and Jakob. Having girls in the family was something that
Brendan had to adjust to. He took great pride in Melody’s Irish dancing and as she grew
older how hard she worked and her willingness to ‘get her hands dirty’. He would proudly
take an interest in how Maya was doing at school and, not really understanding the interests
of teenage girls, bring her copies of the jokes section from Ireland’s Own magazine, which
she thanked him for with a smile and humility beyond her years. With his young Grandson,
Jakob, it was more straightforward though as he could effortlessly slip back into the role of
number one fan, always on the sidelines watching proudly as he took part in different
sports. Armed only with a stack of A-Z maps, Brendan would somehow manage to find his
way to football and cricket grounds the length and breadth of Cheshire and Staffordshire.
Fittingly, on that last Saturday morning, the final words Jakob would say to him were,
‘thanks for coming to watch me, Grandad.’

Brendan’s middle son, Liam, sadly died aged 45 and like his mum and dad will
always be deeply missed by those that knew him. Whether it be in London or Cornwall,
Brendan would always make the long trip down to spend time with Liam, drinking and
laughing together whilst being proudly introduced to a new group of friends.

In the last few years of his life, despite the difficult losses he had endured, Brendan
appeared to have found a deep sense of inner peace again. He continued to spend hours
walking outside and filled his days with work and other hobbies, grateful that he still had
good health and his independence. There were few things that gave Brendan greater
pleasure than listening to music and ending a day with a pint or a whiskey in a local pub. In
the Express, Brendan had found a place that allowed him to do both. People in there
welcomed him with kindness, danced jives, kept his glass filled, and did all they could to
make him comfortable in his last moments, for that his family will always be deeply grateful.

It’s doubtful that anybody who met Brendan has not at some point been touched by
his kindness and generosity. He had time for everyone, and nothing was ever too much
trouble. Wherever he went, he would always arrive quietly and, being a true king of the
‘Irish goodbye’, always do his best to slip away unnoticed and with the minimum amount of
fuss. As painful as losing him so suddenly has been and as deeply as he will be missed, for
those that loved him in time there will be some solace found in the fact they never had to
see him weaken or fade. Strong and independent until the end, he never had to endure the
pain of putting down his tools or hanging up his motorbike leathers.

Those fortunate enough to have known Brendan will understand that wherever it
may be that his soul has now come to rest, he definitely won’t have called ahead and on
arrival will have gently tapped his keys on the window or gone straight around the back to
let himself in. Woken by the sun, he’ll rise early every day and be out before everybody else
to enjoy the quiet freshness of the morning.

May he rest in peace.