John remained with the Dickinsons.
John had curious habits: he had an aversion to the margarine my grandparents used, so would bring his own butter, wrapped in paper and transported in his back pocket. It was a messy habit, but one he persisted with.
He was a solitary character, with little interest in the people around him, but loved to pore over sports statistics and had a remarkable capacity for remembering the most arcane athletics results.
My dad remembers meeting John at his boarding school, so they could go off to suitable locations together — Holyrood Palace, the castle, museums and art galleries.
They got on well enough.
Other boys from the school called him by his middle name "Bevan" and would ask him if he had caught any "woozles" lately. John had a habit of rubbing his fingers together repetitively in front of his forehead as if grabbing at flying creatures.
He finished school, but his marks were patchy, with teachers noting he excelled in subjects he was interested in, and failed to engage in those he wasn't.
Lacking in consistent results, he was deemed unsuitable for higher studies, but landed a job in the library at the Edinburgh Zoo, where he was tasked with compiling a new guide book.
It didn't work out. John took a proprietary attitude to the library and became annoyed with how other people used it, so he was let go.
Later, someone found the notes he had made and realised they were the most brilliant anyone had ever come up with.
Not much else is known about my uncle after that, except that he spent about six months at the Royal Edinburgh Hospital in Morningside, where he received shock treatment.
It had little effect, and the last time anyone remembers seeing John he was pushing a wheelbarrow down Princess Street in Edinburgh. He had become a delivery man.