Fish on Friday, mass on Sunday and Jim Reeves.

Welcome to the three staples of a London Irish upbringing in the 60s and 70s. It’s impossible to overstate how popular Jim Reeves was among Irish people of my parents’ generation, yet he was neither Irish nor Catholic. He just seemed to embody the warmth and decency the Irish people admired. And the fact that he was dead, killed tragically in a plane crash appealed to them even more. And it wasn’t just the Irish. At the height of Beatlemania, the deceased crooner had the UK’s best selling singles of 1964 and 1966. I always thought he was dreadful but, listening to that wonderful rich baritone, I’ve since changed my mind. Oh God, next thing you know, I’ll be going to mass.