David Grant

My Uncle Dave was born on 28 March 1945, son of Sid and Anne Golob, brother to Maxine, or Mac.

When Uncle was born, war in Europe was on the cusp of its conclusion, and it was fortunately a peacetime world in which my Uncle Dave grew up.

Growing up in the East End, Uncle Dave was part of what was then a densely populated and tight knit Jewish community. Uncle attended Woodbury Down school in Stamford Hill, playing football near his home in Grazebrook Road, Clissold Park.  One of the fond memories Uncle shared with me, was growing up visiting his zeida’s sweet shop in Hanbury Street. Having visited the site a few years ago myself, out of curiosity, I can confirm alas only flats and apartments now remain.

Uncle had many happy years together with Ann, his beloved late wife, who sadly passed away a few years earlier.  In more recent years he shared a caring relationship with Rosa, who I know filled him with much joy and happiness, and I know I can speak for the family by saying we very much enjoyed both of their companies.

a sweet, kind, and well-spoken man

Uncle didn’t speak much of his working life, but I know he ultimately rose to Company Secretary at a construction company, Watkins. Uncle lived with Ann for many years in Edgware before making the move to live in sunny Thorpe Bay in 2004. Visits to Thorpe Bay growing up, were always a pleasant experience. Ellie and I can never forget the thickness and softness of the carpets all through their bungalow.  Dinner times together wouldn’t be complete without the most important component of his evening meal, peas, for which Uncle never tired. I am sure from here on every serving of peas I will enjoy, I will think of dear Uncle Dave.

Some years ago I had discussed at great length with Uncle regarding our family history. Luckily, Uncle had a treasure trove of documents and facts, including copies of his father Sid and his grandfather’s Morris’s naturalization papers drawn up around a hundred years ago. Keenly aware of the current geo- political and social contexts, I discussed with Uncle how our family had once lived not far from Kyiv in what was then the Russian Empire, before migrating to London.

When I think of my Uncle Dave, I think of a sweet, kind, and well-spoken man. I will always fondly remember the chats I shared over the years, be that over the Seder plate, or in the bungalow garden, and of course not without a large helping of peas!

(Note from the writer: Max and Ellie, son and daughter of Sue & Jason Palmer, were nephew and niece of David and Ann Grant.)