John King obituary

My father, John King, who has died aged 90, should have had the starring role in a film about his life. It was so exciting and varied and he was so clever and witty. He could even have written the script. His talent in that direction had made him a favourite speechwriter at the Foreign Office in the 1960s.

The only child of a policeman, he went to a south Wales grammar school and, despite being regularly top of the class, left aged 14, to get a job with the gas board to help supplement the family income. Like many of his generation, his own fortunes were transformed by war and empire. He joined up, was commissioned into the Royal Welch Fusiliers and in 1941 found himself on a ship to Nigeria.

After a short stint there, he and his men were packed off by sea to India for intensive training and assigned to Orde Wingate’s Chindits, special forces fighting behind Japanese lines in Burma. To confuse the Japanese, they used to communicate in Hausa, the language of the Nigerian troops, and my father rapidly became fluent.

After the war, with a mention in dispatches, he joined the Colonial Service and returned to Nigeria. He said he was accepted as assistant district officer in Katsina province because of three skills: playing bridge, holding his drink and riding well enough to play polo. Sometimes he went six months only speaking Hausa as he rode around a district the size of Wales, mapmaking, hearing complaints and recording flora, fauna and local history. Along the way he cared for a lion cub, giraffe, hyena and ostrich and he enjoyed lasting friendships with the northern emirs. The result, upon independence in 1960, was an invitation to stay on and ease the transition of power.

As the Colonial Service was disbanded, John had to start all over again. In 1963, with a young family in tow, he passed the exams for the Foreign Office but a diagnosis of skin cancer prevented him travelling. His adventures continued. At the navy department, Ministry of Defence, navy department, a career highlight came when rum rations were abolished. He wrangled £3.5m compensation for the Navy Central Fund and one witty commander distributed badges – on one side “For God and King” and on the other “King for God”.

Once, working with George Thomas MP, he hitched a ride on the royal train. He thought it hilarious as, passing through Cardiff, he waved to a fruit-seller friend and she waved an apple back at him, then dropped both it and her jaw when she saw him seated opposite the Queen.

In 1948 he married Pamela White, with whom he had a daughter, Melanie. After their divorce he met Mary Beaton, my mother, one of the first female administrators in the Colonial Service. They married in 1956 and had two daughters, me and Amanda.

With great love he cared for Mary through her Alzheimer’s until her death in 2004. When he, too, was diagnosed, he determined to …read more