John Godley, Lord Kilbracken: John Godley, the third Lord Kilbracken, confounded Nancy Mitford's observation that "an aristocracy in a republic is like a chicken with its head cut off; it may run around in a lively way but in fact it is dead".
The man who preferred to be known as John Kilbracken packed a multiplicity of careers, including soldiering, writing, politics and farming, into his 85 years. His work was national, international and local, and he proved that energy and an inquiring mind cross all borders and defy glib categorisations.
He inherited an estate in Co Leitrim on the death of his father in 1950. The Godleys were merchants from Yorkshire who settled in Ireland in the 18th century. "I don't consider myself an aristocrat," he told writer Anne Chambers. "The Godleys were middle class until a 5,000-acre estate came their way through purchase, marriage and litigation . . . of this I own one-sixteenth and a house built by my great-great-grandfather."
His childhood was spent in London and Sussex, from where he took trips to Ireland.
Educated at Eton, where a taste for gambling made him the school "bookie", he remembered rounding up his fellow Irish students on St Patrick's Day to make sure they all wore sprigs of shamrock and no one stood out. He later attended Balliol College, Oxford, and his first publication was a slender volume of poetry.
During the second World War he fought for Britain, flying Swordfish torpedo planes, which were little more than death traps, escorting convoys on the North Atlantic, and he was decorated for his courage. He remained close to those with whom he served and proud of their bravery. When war ended he became a reporter on the Daily Mirror.
In 1950 he inherited Killegar in Co Leitrim from his father, who had been trying to sell it. Kilbracken couldn't bring himself to sell his inheritance. So he decided to base himself there, taking on what work he could to raise funds to stock the farm. He tried selling cream cheese and Christmas trees without much profit. A stint escorting buxom American actress Jayne Mansfield around London paid for two cows, and a Sunday Express feature article on "My four days with Jayne" paid for two more. The best milker was named Jayne. Naturally.
He wrote a society column for a London newspaper, but was wont to abandon chronicling the bright young things to tackle serious subjects. A trip to Moscow, as an unaccredited journalist, during which he "gatecrashed" the 40th anniversary celebrations of the October 1917 revolution and spent 30 minutes talking to Soviet leader Nikita Khrushchev, yielded further additions to the Killegar herd. There were less successful excursions - he never did find Rommel's treasure in Corsica. His lighter pieces in Tatler magazine recall the writing of Patrick Campbell, also the son of an Anglo-Irish lord.
He compared his stewardship of Killegar to being in thrall to "a skilful, selfish, beautiful, extravagant woman, absorbing all my money, my energy, my time." In old age he recalled the kindness of his neighbours in bringing in a difficult harvest. One morning 10 of them presented themselves in the farmyard. They had come to help, in the Gaelic tradition called "meitheal". They would not take a penny for their work. "So we shoved back the furniture and had a party." The old house rang to the sounds of Courtin' in the Kitchen, The Bold Fenian Men, and a spirited recitation of Dangerous Dan McGrew.
When the paratroopers fired on protesters in Derry in 1972, Kilbracken's anger knew no bounds. He rejected the British army version of events, returned his wartime medals and applied for Irish citizenship.
His appearance was unusual, and became more so as he aged. More than 6ft tall, yet weighing little more than 10 stone, he had long hair and let his beard grow. His accent was that of his class, and people remarked on his melodic pattern of speech.
Initially he had joined the Liberals in the House of Lords, but in 1956 switched to Labour, campaigning for an end to partition in Ireland and for the rights of Kurds in Iraq. He saw parallels between the two issues. He chaired a relief committee for Kurds and wrote about them for many publications, including the Dublin-based current affairs fortnightly Hibernia. It is an irony that his warnings were ignored, as were those of a fellow Irish peer Lord Shackleton on the subject of the Falklands.
He supported Tony Blair's removal of hereditary peers from the Lords, though it deprived him of a useful platform. In latter years he wrote many pithy "letters to the editor" of The Irish Times. He was a lifelong member of the National Union of Journalists.
His books included Tell Me the Next One (1950), Living Like a Lord (1955), A Peer Behind the Curtain (1959) and Shamrocks and Unicorns (1962).
In 1982 a book for young birdwatchers, The Easy Way to Bird Recognition, won an award from The Times Educational Supplement. This was followed by two more guides on trees and wildflowers.
Anne Chambers included Kilbracken in her recent study, At Arms Length - Aristocrats in the Republic of Ireland (New Island, Dublin, 2004). Her contacts with him revealed a humorous and quizzical man, and the Irish in him always surfaced.
She notes that he, like other members of his class - the Rosses, Longfords, Killanins and others - adapted to changed circumstances in Ireland with resourcefulness and courage.
"It is perhaps 'us', the rest of the Irish population, who have not quite kept pace [ with them]," she says.
John Kilbracken married Penelope Reyne in 1943; they divorced in 1949. He married Susan Heazlewood in 1981 and they divorced in 1989. He is survived by his son, Hon Christopher John Godley, who inherits the title, a daughter, Lisa Arno, and a younger son, Seán Godley.
John Godley, Lord Kilbracken: born London, October 17th, 1920; died Cavan, August 14th, 2006