About five years ago I needed to forward a message to Deji and routinely requested him to send me his What'sApp number. Nothing prepared me for his simple response that he had none and he was the happier for it. I thought I was the odd one for not being on Twitter, Facebook, Instagram etc. But even I had succumbed to the lure of What'sApp as a communication platform. I didn't think it was possible for anyone to resist it. Deji was generally unimpressed by the excesses, the rat race and the herd instinct that now define contemporary Nigerian elite culture. He was happy to follow his own instincts and preferences on how he lived his life. I remember that at the time when petrol stations were offering "Ordinary" and "Super" brands of the product to customers, he insisted on running his car on the "Ordinary" brand, claiming that his analysis had not shown any justification for the brand/price difference. At Igbobi College where we had been classmates he was the definition of a bookworm, usually to be found hiding in the unlikely space behind the Assembly Hall stage studying. He was consistently rewarded for his efforts by being one of the top scorers at school examinations and the final WAEC final examinations. I have had a deep visceral bond with Deji since our school days because of our shared core values and interests. Even after relocating from Lagos to Ibadan over four years ago we had kept in touch fairly regularly whenever we needed a good laugh or when I needed his valuable professional advice on all matters technical. I feel diminished by his sad passage. May his spirit rest in peace and, through divine mercy, rise in glory. And may God grant Bolaji, Kemi, Muyiwa and his siblings and other relations the fortitude to bear the loss. Gboyega Banjo

Summer 2019, I had the pleasure of witnessing a heartwarming scene at Finchley Central Station. My Dad was walking beside his lifelong friend, Uncle (Dr Adenubi) whose infectious laughter had always been a cherished presence in our family. I went up to them and they said they were off to Central London, a city filled with memories for both. Their animated conversation echoed through the small hall of the station, despite both men nearing their eighties. Their friendship, steadfast through the decades, was a joy to behold. As we continue to miss Uncle's love and laughter in our lives, we hold on to these precious memories, knowing that part of his legacy lives on in the cherished moments he created, and the enduring friendship he shared with my Dad. Rest in peace Uncle.

“I knew you must be related!” Daddy and I were harvesting potatoes on my allotment in England. He insisted that he had found all the potatoes in the bed. I insisted that potatoes were very wily and he had to look carefully so as not to miss any. Daddy was confident he had done a good job. I said OK, ooo. I will check your work. I found at least 20 more potatoes. As each one was un-earthed we both screamed with laughter. The poor lady with the allotment near to mine had to come round to find out what was going on. Yes, ooo. Daddy and me are related. He loved to come to the allotment with me and when he left us that summer he said that was the favourite thing about his visit. After that I always saved a bed of potatoes for us to harvest together. In 2020 when he braved COVID to come and visit, he asked to go to the allotment for a quick visit before we went home for his two-week quarantine. That was my Daddy. He went from being my strict Daddy - use your fork and knife, why are you running barefoot, do your homework – to being my friend. Our shared love of growing (and eating) food created a deep bond and we would often work away in happy silence on each day’s tasks. I cannot tell you how much I miss my Daddy. That said, I am so proud of the life he lived and the extent to which he, quietly and unostentatiously, touched so many people’s lives. Ẹ sùn re Daddy

My favourite father-in-law phrase: “That’s a good one”. It was always accompanied by his infectious laughter. I’ll miss you - o.