I was going to write something on Facebook, but Nick was a blogger and so this belongs here.
I heard this afternoon that my dear friend Nick Booth died yesterday after a fall at the weekend. It’s not right. It shouldn’t be like this. We ought to have been celebrating his 60th birthday next month. We should have continued to intermittently tramp around bits of South Birmingham together as we got older and older. We should have sat in odd cafés and nattered and sniggered and laughed our socks off at our respective ridiculousness.
Nick got me, in a way that few people truly do. Maybe it was being Brummie boys of a certain age. Maybe it was our shared love of seeing people do things for themselves and each other in community. Or maybe it was just because he listened better than anyone else I know. As a natural-born journalist, he listened and he didn’t forget.
At first it was the power of podcasting that drew us together. I have David Wilcox and Simon Baddeley to thank for separately suggesting we might have common interests, but it would have been hard for us to avoid each other in those early days. We were both most at home in loose, unconference-y spaces and we connected through our dark but gleeful, sixth-form humour with a dash of self-deprecation.
I think Nick’s most generous gift to the world was Social Media Surgeries – they had just the right balance of ease and informality together with a desire to get shit done and really help people who were helping others and embodied the Podnosh company values of “Think, Make Things Better and Give a Fuck!”
We attended the G20 in 2009 together, swooning under the Obama-fever but mostly just wandering around laughing at how bonkers it all was and we were for even being there.
I also had the privilege of working directly with Nick (and the late John Popham) on the Nominet Trust’s “Our Digital Planet” project – luring people into portakabins and generally being “the ice-cream man of the internet”.
But mostly we enjoyed the ambient awareness of each other’s lives that came with blogging and being on Twitter. When we were fortunate enough to be in the same neck of the woods, we got to hang out and snigger at things it would be inappropriate to list here, even if one of us hadn’t just died. I had a look through our various private messages and there’s not much in there except lots of “I love you”.
I did love him and I already miss him desperately.
Perfect Path 
That is tragic news. Nick was all that was right about the internet. His kindness, good humour, ability to focus on the important human stuff.
He is going to be missed by a lot of people.
I couldn’t have asked for a better co-conspirator on G20Voices, thanks for giving us that, Shane.
oh Lloyd. That’s truly is a hammer blow to the heart. Rest in peace Nick.
Yes! that’s exactly how it feels.
what a beautiful post. Thank you. I never really knew quite what a privilege it was to call him my little brother, though always love him dearly.
(Logged in via WordPress, which I would never have known about without Nick)
Oh Jaki, thank you for showing up here. You’ll have enough on your plate already, but if you can, please do pass on my love and condolences to the rest of the family. And let me know if there’s anything else I can do to help in anyway at all.
it took me an uncomfortable dip back into twitter to realise some of Nick’s friends would of course blog about him. I’ll share it with the family. xx
Very sad news.
Another historic podcaster. One of a kind.
This so so lovely to read. We are really struggling with the loss but it’s so heartening to know that our dad made such an impact and affected people’s lives in this way. ❤️
Hi Emma, I’m glad if it helps in any small way. He really did help a lot of people. One of the things he and I shared was the befuddled puzzlement of how to be a good dad to grown-up offspring. I don’t know how often he got to say this, but he was super proud of all of you.
thank you for your words! He did actually tell us very often how proud he was of us and how much he loved us. What we didn’t say too much was how proud we are of him! Xx
Emma,
I have been a close friend of your father for over 40 years and know of you through him. He loved you and Josh immeasurably. His sudden loss is so tragic. Please accept my condolences.
Desa
We all loved him. Actually when I first met him in the 1980s I thought he was an arrogant twat. Yep. However, we got over that over the years given so many mutual friends, sharing environmental, social and political discourse (including bad haircuts, inadvisable and temporary beards), wine, smoking and stopping smoking et al over the decades across a myriad of times to the point where established a strong mutual respect. Only a week ago we had dinner with himself and Catherine for which he single-handedly cooked way too much food and arguably just the right amount of courses at his home, discussing everything and nothing and realising we were as it happens in the same furrow in the field. We hugged. I am glad we did. I am like so many gutted. RIP.
He always said to “say ‘I love you’ if you felt it, because you just never know….and loved ones should always know”. I will miss him terribly all my days. The best of the best was simply Nick X
I was so shocked to hear of Nick’s tragic death on LinkedIn so came here to pass on my condolences to his family and friends. I knew Nick from doing Common Purpose together back in 2025 – he was deeply thoughtful and insightful yet funny and friendly then, and whenever our paths crossed since. Having lost my Mum at a similar age, I know the pain his family will be feeling, but I know you will have happy memories and a pride in who Nick was to keep you strong.
I first met Nick through his Social Media Surgeries when I worked at Gateway. We reconnected through social media, of course. The thing I remember most is when my dad died and I was, I guess downplaying how I felt, Nick said, some things are just a bit shit. Those few, plain words summed up exactly how I felt. This is shit. I wish to send my sincere condolences to Nick’s children and family.