Gerald Jacob Bardon

Dad was born on Queen’s Road, Upton Park, E13, on 13 August 1932.

Queen’s Road was a traditional street market. His parents, Lili and Ruby, owned a shop selling fabrics with a small stall outside. It was a vibrant marketplace with traders, many from the local Jewish community.

He had vague memories of the Silver Jubilee of King George V and Queen Mary in 1935.

Being Jewish, the family was aware of the situation in Germany before the war. They hosted a girl from Czechoslovakia, paying £50 to the Government to ensure she would not be a burden on the state and could only work as a domestic. My Dad said he could not remember her name.

In 1938, his sister Rosalie was born, making the household quite lively with the Czech girl also living with them.

Around 1938/39, Dad was visited by a great-uncle from Paris, France. His mother begged them to stay in the UK, but they believed in the strength of the Maginot Line and the French army. Dad recalled, “We all know how that ended up.”

excelled academically from an early age

When he was six or seven, the Czech girl started teaching him French and German while he helped her with her English. By the time Dad started at Stratford Grammar School, he was fairly fluent in both languages.

Dad excelled academically from an early age. He was ahead of his class at prep school, and his love of languages and history continued through junior and secondary education.

At the start of the war, the family evacuated to Camber Sands in Kent. Dad commented, “We couldn’t have been closer to the Germans if we tried.”

In 1942, his sister Valerie was born, completing the family.

As he grew older, he joined the family business, partnering with his mother to make and sell blouses wholesale to shops in the West End.

In 1958, he met Mum, and they were married soon after in 1959 in Leicester. They moved to an up-and-coming area called Chigwell in Essex in 1960. Soon after, Lloyd, myself, and Denise were born, completing the family.

reluctantly retired at the age of eighty four

When he married Mum, he set up his own business as a market trader at East Street Market in Elephant and Castle, later working at Brixton Market. He thrived there, making many friends and becoming a favourite with customers. Locals even used him as an “alarm clock”—if he didn’t show up, they would worry and check on him.

The market was such a big part of his life that he only reluctantly retired at the age of eighty four.

Dad was a well-read man with a deep interest in politics and history. He read every Sunday paper from cover to cover and could see every side of a political argument. There wasn’t much he didn’t have a reasonable opinion on. He had a great sense of humour and loved The Goon Show, Hancock, and more.

While working in the market, he was an active member of the Street Traders’ Association and played a pivotal role in securing rights for market traders. He was as comfortable interacting with local politicians and MPs as he was with the people of the community.

Outside of work, he was a passionate West Ham supporter and held a season ticket until the end. “The bubbles kept blowing no matter the score!” His love of sports also extended to cricket.

He was blessed with four grandchildren; Gabriella, David, Miles, and James, who he was extremely proud of. Dad also had a best friend in Henry, the family Labrador, whom he initially insisted he didn’t want but later adored.

In 2019, Mum and Dad moved from the family home to a flat in Woodford Green. Downsizing meant Dad had to part with some of his beloved books, which was difficult for him.

Even in retirement, Dad stayed active by visiting the British Library to continue studying history and politics. During this time, he likely realised his memory was fading and began writing his memoirs, which we found among his papers on Monday.

Dad was diagnosed with vascular dementia after the COVID restrictions were lifted. His world became smaller, and his physical health declined. Over the last two to three years, it was heartbreaking to see him deteriorate. In truth, our father slowly started leaving us two years ago. Over the last six months, his health declined significantly, and he spent more time in the hospital than at home. While we are devastated by the loss of a husband, dad, and grandpa, we are grateful he is no longer in pain or discomfort. Although Dad was adamant about living to one hundred, we are grateful he made it to ninety two.

The bubbles kept blowing no matter the score!

At ninety two, as you can imagine, we have countless stories about him. To sum him up, Dad was a bright, intellectual man who took joy in his interests, the people he interacted with, his beloved Hammers, and, most importantly, his family.