Nicholas was our eldest brother. He was born in 1939, 14 years ahead of me, 9 years ahead of Michael and a mere 2 years older than Anne.


Anne remembers fondly how Nicholas looked out for her, all their lives. You can’t really ask for more than that in a brother.


Michael recalls so many lovely times
- being brought by Nicholas to his first film The Lady Is a Tramp, 
-his great series of stories about Danny the Dormouse, 
-countless wonderful meals and treats in Dublin and London, 
And so many important and career-defining business introductions. 
He recalls turning on the TV in Russia on a trip and finding Nicholas broadcasting to the world. I should add that Nicholas was in London, not Moscow!
Michael was, as we all were, in awe and excitement watching his life.
Above all he remembers all Nicholas’ kindness and benevolence.


My own earliest recollections of Nicholas are from about 1958,  when I was about 5 and he was 19, home from Oxford for the holidays. 
He had bought a state-of-the-art Cine camera, and he was about to immortalise the family on celluloid with a series of scripted short films with exciting titles such as “Andrew Runs Away”, “Michael and the Toys’ Revenge” and “Andrew’s Castle”.  Enid Blyton eat your heart out, the Famous Five had nothing on the Leonards!


I, for one, however, was no Mickey Rooney child star, but Anne did her own take on Liz Taylor in Black Beauty when riding  bareback on Gypsy her grey pony and rescuing me on Killiney Beach.  Michael excelled in a brilliant sequence where he appeared to fly over Killiney Bay on a toy horse. 
It was  Nicholas’ first foray into moving pictures and while you may not see the box set on Netflix any time soon, we have those movies saved at home as treasured memories, reminders of his trademark fun-loving ingenuity and enterprising spirit. 


I used to find traces of one of his earlier business enterprises in the form of mushrooms sprouting in the basement of Summerhill. These were remnants of when, in 1955 , he had (in his own words), “taken up floorboards…, put in straw and manure with help of Mr Brack, the gardener, and planted mushrooms for selling to local shop. After I return to school”, he wrote, “the smell of manure becomes so bad that house has to be vacated for a time.”…..


Later, in the late 50s when he was dipping his toe into print journalism I remember our parents’ great pride at his becoming Editor of Cherwell, the Oxford paper and soon after that getting a rapid succession of jobs on The Investors’ Chronicle, The Evening Standard and then at the incredibly tender age of 23 landing the position as founding Business Editor of the Irish Times. Even as a 9 year old, I  knew that this truly was something to be proud of.


The best decision of his entire life was to come in ‘64, when he asked Kirsty Mackenzie his Scottish girlfriend  to marry him. She was exotic, a Presbyterian no less, (a rarity in our part of the world). Our  (Catholic) parents were more than happy to embrace this ecumenical union, by the way, and the rest is history. 
Kirsty, Jennifer and Antonia, Eloise, Pierre, Sam and Dom, Pascal and Glenn, you were the lights of his life, end of.


Reading his CV it might have looked like he couldn’t hold down a job, such was the pace with which he moved, but at home we got used to it; it was simply what he did, moving with unbelievable energy, flair and no small amount of genius.
The pace was indeed dizzying and as his pioneering career in mainstream business took off, instead of writing about the news, he became the news, a business star. 


It is lovely to look back now and see the arc of his career, from journalism and publishing, to TV in Ireland, to umpteen business ventures and then back to TV, global this time,  to radio,  to writing and journalism again, and in probably his final career move in his late 70’s , to co-creating very clever cartoons, many of which graced the pages of the FT, no less. He was seemingly irrepressible.


Despite this extraordinary trajectory, he never lost sight of the people and things that mattered most to him, especially his family.


I recall very well the arrival of Kirsty in our house, his exotic Scottish fiance, a Presbyterian no less, back in ’64. Our (Catholic) parents got over that initial shock pretty rapidly and the rest is history. But seriously, to his family: Kirsty, Jennifer and Antonia, Eloise, Pierre, Sam and Dom, Pascal and Glenn, you were the lights of his life.


To me he was a wonderful Godfather, mentor and all-round good guy. He gave an embarrassingly nice speech at our wedding in 2001.
He was quietly generous in so many ways, sharing not only his good fortune, but also being supportive and encouraging to all of us.
I don’t think he ever missed our birthdays. 
He always looked out for, and had a real interest, in what our kids were up to. 
Only a few weeks ago he had been following Kate’s blog of her sailing adventure round the world and wanted me to tell her what a great writer she is. 
He loved to know what everyone was doing and  how they were doing.


To say that he was brave, stoic and uncomplaining in the face of crippling illness over the years would be an understatement: he was positively heroic.


I shall miss his calls for catch-ups.


He was a wonderful human being, a great role model and a bit of a genius. 


We are so lucky to have had him in our lives and his love will forever have a place in our hearts.


I am oh so proud to be able to say he was our brother.