Frank Colet

Our Dad was a special person. Not just in the way that all dads are special to their kids, but special in the many, many unusual things he achieved and did.

For example, it was only recently that Tracey and I found out that in his youth he was a drummer in a band, despite, to our certain knowledge, having no sense of rhythm or musical ability whatsoever.

We’ll come on to some of Dad’s other unusual abilities in a minute. Born in 1929, Dad grew up in Finchley and like many good Jewish boys, went to Christ’s College. Other than collecting shrapnel (and sometimes unexploded armaments) during the war, he had an uneventful childhood. In his teens he worked on a farm as a tractor driver in Letchworth, staying with his Aunt Julie, apparently without hindering the war effort. He was called up for National Service just after the war. Living in Mill Hill with his parents, the Middlesex Regiment based in what is now Millbrook Park, seemed like a cushy posting. Indeed it was, or at least until he was told he was being posted to Palestine. Fortunately, having refused to go, he avoided what would have been a terrible dilemma as the Irgun were fighting the British.

Instead he was posted to Belfast, starting what turned out to be a long and happy family history with Northern Ireland. Dad’s military career was going great guns, if you’ll pardon the pun. He reached the giddy rank of Lance Corporal and was made company pay clerk. One weekend he went on leave, forgetting to make up the pay packets, thus ignoring the one and only bit of responsibility given to him. By Monday morning, he was back to private Colet and peeling potatoes (punishment known as “Jankers”).

One of his first proper jobs was at the prestigious Fortnum and Mason in Piccadilly. Unfortunately, rather than serving royalty and wearing a tail coat, he wore a brown overall rather like Ronnie Barker in ‘Open All Hours’ and worked in the warehouse.

A career in the schmutter business beckoned. He soon found that he excelled in sales and travelled around London and the Home Counties, visiting what in those days were quaintly called ‘gown shops’.

he sold his beloved Jaguar to pay for an engagement ring

It was in one of those shops in 1955 that he met Mum. She was a window-dresser and a romance quickly blossomed. As I mentioned, Dad used to play in a band and just to emphasise his raffish credentials, drove a fabulous 1936 2.5 litre Jaguar SS1 Drophead Coupe. Mum was clearly something quite special, as eighteen months after meeting he sold his beloved Jaguar to pay for an engagement ring. You can imagine what a 1936 Jaguar SS1 drophead would be worth now… Thanks Dad.

Once married, they moved into the house on the Barnet Way in Mill Hill. This is where some of Dad’s special talents really came to the fore. Over the years, he single handedly converted a dilapidated semi-detached ‘chalet bungalow’ into an amazing three bedroom, two bathroom home, complete with sunken bath with mosaic tiles.

Construction, plumbing, electricals, double glazing, roofing – Dad’s self-taught DIY skills knew no bounds. He even designed and installed his own central heating system. Amazing, let alone for a nice Jewish boy from Finchley.

Mum and Dad were founder members of Mill Hill Synagogue and of the ‘Young Marrieds’ group. The social scene was buzzing and they formed lots close friendships there, many lasting to this day.

Dad’s self-taught DIY skills knew no bounds

One of my earliest memories is watching Dad building a speedboat under the carport (which of course he had also built). I was in one of those wheeled stroller things tied to one of the carport supports (the stroller was tied, not me). The leash was rather important as the drive was on a very steep slope leading straight down to the busy A1 dual carriageway. I recall being told when I was naughty, ‘go and play with the traffic on the A1’.

I remember he took us on a trip in the speedboat down the Thames, once as far as the Tower of London. Spotting a nice bit of beach, we pulled in for a picnic. It was only when an angry Beefeater threatened us with incarceration in the Tower that we realised Dad had dropped us off at Traitors Gate.

Dad’s passion for sailing reflected his attitude to most things he did. He threw himself into it with gusto. He built and sailed several dinghies, catamarans and powerboats. Sailing on a cold British reservoir or on the Thames in winter was not appealing to Tracey or me. So my only regret is that I found that I also loved sailing many years after Dad had stopped.

founder members of the Carmel Caravan Club

Family holidays were always spent in tents and later caravans in France, Italy and Spain. We have wonderful memories as kids mucking about on beaches and in forests with the family friends we always went away with. Ever the socialites, Mum and Dad were founder members of the Carmel Caravan Club, the worlds first, and probably only, Jewish Caravan Club.

Dad went into the garment manufacturing business and was successful in supplying several well known brands. This was of course before all UK clothing manufacturing moved overseas. The highlight was manufacturing the Emanuelle ready to wear collection around the time of Diana Princess of Wales’s marriage.

In the 1990s Dad and Mum bought a plot of land in a beautiful spot adjacent to fields and woodland in Mill Hill village. Dad suddenly found he had yet another hidden skill as an architect. He designed their amazing and unique new house in Hillview Road from scratch. Whilst he didn’t build it, he did construct a lovely replica wendy house in the woods, in which Lee, Nikki, Danielle, Ryan and Libby would later play for hours.

Some of our fondest memories with Dad are from that time in the huge garden. We had bear hunts in the copse, explored the stream for non-existent fish, stole raspberries from his fruit cage or enjoyed Dad’s trademark burnt-offerings that he insisted on calling barbecues.

featured on a BBC TV programme about cooking in later life

On retirement, Dad and Mum lived for much of the year in Spain, where they made many new and wonderful friends. Fortunately they also spent time in their flat back in Mill Hill, so we still saw a lot of them. In 2014 they moved back permanently to the UK, but decided that there was still much of the world to see. It’s wonderful that they were able to go on many cruises, despite growing ill-health. In later years, Dad was Mum’s devoted carer. Dad was totally uncomplaining, stubbornly independent and resourceful. For example, he developed another new skill and passion when he took cookery lessons at the age of eighty seven. He was rightly immensely proud to be featured on a BBC TV programme about cooking in later life.

Both Mum and Dad had a new lease of life and took great delight when their great grandchildren Preston, Felix and Halle arrived.

Mum and Dad had sixty six wonderful and loving years together. Dad missed Mum terribly and was very frail towards the end. However only last week he rallied and came out with us to see Libby and Mike’s new house. He was looked after by his amazing carers Hilda, Christina and Helen, who were wonderful not only in caring for him, but laughing at his terrible jokes.

So, how to remember Dad? A life lived to the absolute full, a man of many talents (barbecues excepted) and totally devoted husband, father, grandfather and great grandfather.

We will miss him hugely, but remember so many good times.