by Alicia
From the moment I met John over 11 years ago, he made me feel like a part of the family. Every time we walked through the door at Tubby Walk, he’d greet us with a cheerful “watchaa’,” and the atmosphere was always warm and welcoming.
As we know, John was definitely not a big spender —he was appalled by parking fees, and the idea of spending more than £2 on a pack of Magnums was out of the question. But whenever I visited, he’d break out the premium sausages and toad in the hole, because he loved having someone to share it with. I’ll never forget the time he and Linda sneaked into my graduation, helping themselves to some free prosecco.
John was unexpectedly adventurous, especially when it came to takeaways. I remember once ordering Chinese, and we ended up with some mystery meat dish—he dove right in without hesitation. Another time, I’m pretty sure he ordered one of the spiciest items on an Indian menu (I don’t think he knew what he’d ordered and just saw lamb).
As we know, he had rather a sweet tooth, indulging in everything from wine gums to Vimto to meringues. I remember a Father’s Day in Hyde Park when he polished off an entire Eton Mess meant for four people—all by himself.
Though he wasn’t often found in the kitchen, Christmas was the exception. Carving the turkey and ham was his job, and he took it seriously, slicing everything to perfection for our roast.
John carried a unique aura of magic and positivity. Even at 83, he never seemed old—except maybe in his love for black-and-white movies and Al Jolson. He had a young spirit, and I’ll never forget his joy in setting off indoor fireworks, hoping all the while that Jane and Charlie’s sofas wouldn’t catch fire!
I’m deeply grateful for all the happy memories we shared, and his legacy will continue to live on in our hearts.
