An early memory of my dad comes from when I was young - riding around on his back, white knuckled, clinging onto his work-tie while he ‘trotted’, occasionally bucked and neighed! A boisterous and highly fun activity that was also bestowed to all his grandchildren (before his knees wore out!), but one ‘training’ that helped all of us enormously to learn to ride and balance on a real horse when older. In fact I have never once fallen off!


My dad was a full-of-life, charismatic gentleman who was out to enjoy life to its fullest. Whenever trying to describe my dad to new friends who hadn’t yet had the pleasure of meeting him, he was portrayed as a cross between the comedy actors of our time - Terry Thomas and Basil Fawlty! He loved seeking fun experiences and new adventures - a trait that I think has been passed on to myself and my two sisters. 


Dad absolutely loved to travel to new places both in the UK and further afield, initially facilitated through his Army posts in Cyprus and Africa. After I was born he also worked away on many projects in Africa which kept him absent from home for what seemed like months. Our dear mum was left care singlehandedly for myself and my two big sisters. We knew Dad was back home when we were woken up unexpectedly - often in the early hours of the morning - to be greeted with a great big cuddle, with much jumping on the bed, excitement and a pile of suitcases packed with new gifts to explore! He was a great recounter of stories - and would tell us exciting tales of the country and culture he had travelled to - I remember feeling agog when he said he snake, monkey and rat (which ALL, apparently, “tasted like chicken”). 


The gifts were so exotic, like nothing we had ever seen before. Wide-eyed in those early hours of the day, we were each rewarded for his long absence with the gift of a boxed doll in its brightly coloured national costume; a trinket souvenir, like a chunky handcrafted African heavy metal bracelets that weighed down your arms; shell boxes; lightweight wood sculptures depicting natives; intricately carved boats; pretty seed necklaces; a carved gourd drinking bottle; embroidered silk pyjamas and colourful kaftans and, once, a real snakeskin embossed leather bag (which was questionably ‘venomous’ and would therefore generate hysterical squeals when we touched its skin). 


Our dad, being the intrepid traveller that he was, never passed up an opportunity to work abroad. He was drawn to the sunnier climate and ambience of a different culture. And the money - he wanted to provide well for his family and he did.  Often working in the countries for long periods meant he got to know them intimately, like a local. He was a useful encyclopaedia to us as we started to venture out ourselves, giving us sound advice mainly around safety; the name of a local friend; a good restaurant or activity to explore and it deepened our own appreciation of a new place. I don’t know a single place that he hadn’t travelled to (also as evidenced by the huge collection of dolls we each accumulated!). His stories brought places and the people he met to life - and made many friends internationally - often welcoming them into our home to return their accommodation of him, and to help them to experience some of our own western food, warmth and hospitality. On one occasion when I was about 8 years old we had a real African Prince (in full regal dress) come for dinner who, to our stifled amusement, burped loudly at the table to show his enjoyment of our mum’s cooking. Then to our horror he picked up our pet Siamese cat by the tail, shook it, telling us ‘we eat these’!!


Although our dad was away a lot - our mum was amazing, she held us all together like glue. She always had time and a welcome home smile for my dad - weary from work and travel. When my dad was in a fixed address they would write to each other daily. Our dad would always phone us whenever he could and often teased us by pretending to be someone else and taking on the dialect of the country he was in, asking to speak to ‘Mr Donald’ before revealing his identity! This would make us fall about laughing at the joke, being so easily fooled! However, we soon wised up to this trick and on at least two embarrassing occasions that I can remember it backfired when I told the caller to “Stop messing about, dad!” only to realise that it was in fact a real overseas customer or friends of my parents wanting to leave a message! 


The highlight for me, being the youngest and still at home was travelling out as a young teenager with my mum to the middle east to spend time with dad around his work. In spite of both my parents thinking I was reading wall to wall Agatha Christie, I drank in the most amazing sights, smells, sounds, cultural riches (around my crime busting of course!). These were experiences that helped to define me as an adult - and I feel so privileged that I was able to explore the world with my dad’s insight and his ‘rough guide’ insider knowledge. My mum and I would often meet him in Athens (a half way point where his plane would connect from/to UK) making a holiday of it, before we would have to wave his plane off at Athens airport, with tears, knowing it would be another few months before next leave. We also flew out and met him in Jordan, and then Damman in Saudi - my mum smuggling a bottle of whisky in a boozy home made cake so he could enjoy the taste of alcohol after months of abstinence in the dry countries. That said, stories soon emerged that dad had become an expert at making Sadiki or Moonshine (a concoction of yeast water and sugar) in a bath with colleagues which was “a bit like vodka”, he said, “only stronger”. When he ended his contract with the Finnish engineering company Makro Talo Oy we drove his brand new Renault 18 back from Saudi, through Jordan, Syria (including a wrong turning at Damascus to Beirut where rocks and stones were thrown at our car for having Saudi numberplates), Turkey, Greece and across Europe to home. I remember the UK customs officer looking quite perplexed when our means of transport - a left-hand with Arabic number plates drove up to the barrier at Dover. He wasn’t sure what to do, but my dad quick on his feet to come up with an explanation said that he was driving it back to Saudi again soon - so we got waved through without being taxed! It was actually my first car - and one that always reminded me of a wonderful trip full of colour and adventure when I stepped behind the wheel. 


Dad loved to engage with people - he was always so interested in who they were, what they did and what they had to say. This has been reflected in all the messages of love we have each received. He was memorable. With his warm and friendly manner he was soon treated like an old friend even by those he had just met. Because of this - en route from Saudi to the UK we received unexpected invites to go snorkling in the Red Sea Jeddah courtesy of the local diving school; we visited a bakery during Ramadan and then invited to celebrate Eid with the Jordan baker’s family eating ‘sheeps eyes’ and sweet treats that had been prepared for this Muslim celebration; slept in reconfigured barrels in Turkey, slept in the car in Munich! Travelling with my dad, there truly was never a dull moment. 


Dad embraced life - relishing all its rich offerings. He was a soldier working in different army corps (even with SAS training which we understood to include getting peed on as an alarm call when asleep in his sleeping bag!). He learnt languages - enough to engage and make friendly exchange with his African, Arabic, European friends; he got his bus driving license; pilots license; learnt to dive and windsurf, waterski and sail (he clearly wanted to be 007 when he ‘grew up’). He bought an Army Harley Davidson in his late 50s and wore his army helmet and gear to ride it! He loved cars and driving, and he always had the latest gadgets and we were one of the first homes to have internet and fax. He was an educator and a lover of world war history and the battlefields. He did his last parachute jump at age 75, only stopping because he had spinal rod surgery (he reckoned it stretched him out). He loved his family - deeply - and made it his job to remember all our birthdays after our mum died. 


Our dad was charismatic, kind and terribly fair. I think having three daughters who vied for his affection made him act this way - he always treated us equally and never favoured one over another. 


I am deeply sad our dad has parted from this world, but know that he is going to embrace his latest adventure - enjoying the challenge of trying something new, meeting new people. 


Simon, Sophie, Zak and I were so proud of all he achieved in his life and as him as a father and grandfather. We loved him dearly and he will always be remembered - with a smile and a chuckle. 


Rest peacefully dad xx