Hey everybody, it's Hector.

I've just arrived back from Copenhagen and all I can say is that

we've had an amazing few days. Days full of sadness, days full of tears, days full of laughter,

days full of stories, days full of just looking out the window and daydreaming and asking what's it all about.

Me and Freddie did everything together.

It was back in the days a sound garden, rage against the machine, near Van and Pearl Jam.

We adored those bands and they were the soundtracks for the car.

They were the soundtracks for all our crack.

Freddie headed off to Denmark around 1997 with a backpack and a sense of adventure.

He did the odd job or two and then he fell in love. He had two children, a boy and a girl.

He moved jobs and studied Danish and as he got better with the local

language, he joined the passport office in Copenhagen Airport. He loved it there. And like many a

streetwise Nabman, he could spot a dodgy passport or a scam a mile away. Over the years,

Freddie trained more than anyone else I know. His passion was the gym. He loved

pumping iron. He loved getting in under the bar. He trained all over the place. Some of the best

gyms on the planet. He went to America to train. Iceland. Scandinavia, the UK, Galway City

gym. He knew them all. About 15 years ago, Iceland, Scandinavia, the UK, Galway City Gym. He knew them all. About 15 years ago, Freddie

decided that alcohol didn't suit him. He gave it all up and never went back. He had the strength

of ten men on his journey and he came out the other side with flying colours. He was a new man,

a humble man, a better man and I was so proud of him that he

could do this and told him so many times, yet I was. My brother died suddenly on his bicycle at dawn

on a summer's morning in Copenhagen on his way to work. He's now flying high in the skies

...