My son, Jon Mycroft, who has died unexpectedly aged 44, lived very individualistically, leaving home in 1998, aged 20, to join a protest against the Birmingham Northern Relief Road, which became the toll motorway linking with the M6. Later, he was a peaceful protester at G8 summits, such as in Genoa, Italy, in 2001. The Guardian reported how demonstrators there were attacked indiscriminately by riot police. Like others, Jon fled the city grateful to be unharmed, and turned back to his eco-friendly lifestyle of self-sufficiency and woodworking.
Sailing was one of his loves. With friends, he renovated a small sea-going catamaran but also crewed for others in two transatlantic journeys, gaining experience for his RYA yachtmaster’s certificate. He lived in various spots in northern Spain, where his key aim was to avoid overusing the Earth’s resources in any consumerist existence, and earned what little money he needed by busking or giving English lessons. Jon would have set off across the Atlantic again, but the birth of his daughter in 2011 meant he chose to stay in the province of Asturias to share her upbringing.
Jon was born in Sutton Coldfield, West Midlands. His father, Andrew Mycroft, and I were both schoolteachers. Jon went to local schools, including Bishop Vesey’s grammar, and left during the sixth-form to take up a work placement.
In his 20s he adopted the epithet Jon Trumpet (an instrument he learned in school). He became a talented musician, performing for his own satisfaction and the enjoyment of others. When asked how he could play this powerful instrument so softly, he said he took care not to scare the birds when practising outdoors. He taught himself the guitar so he could play and sing along, and performed some songs of his own composition.
Jon’s respect for trees and woodlands followed him everywhere as the basis for a life well lived. He once wrote in a letter to his grandfather: “Life sweeps me off my feet; so many things to love, live and learn.” Always, he enjoyed social living and interaction and seemed able to make relationships with an easy rapport, even with strangers. He reported spending days in the Pyrenees with a shepherd who could neither hear nor speak – nevertheless they communicated.
His young daughter cites “adventures with Dad” (including wild camping) as her particularly special memories. He shared with her his love of books and music, and ensured she was confident from her earliest years as a dual-language speaker.
Jon is lovingly remembered by many friends for his caring nature and quirky humour. He is survived by his daughter, his two sisters and me.
