My father, Sir John Cockburn, 12th Baronet of that Ilk, has died aged 89. He succeeded to the baronetcy in 1949, when he was 23. Having no money or family seat to inherit (as the estate went to a cousin), he worked at various trades, including as a fishmonger, corn-seed salesman and a wine representative for Averys of Bristol, and Berry Brothers in London, before setting up his own wine business.
He was the only son of Sir John Cockburn 11th Bt and his wife Isabel (nee McQueen), and his father had already retired as a lieutenant colonel in the army by the time John was born. He was brought up in Ross-on-Wye, Herefordshire, and educated at Abberley Hall, Worcestershire, the Royal Naval College, Dartmouth, and the Royal Agricultural College, Cirencester. He trained as a pilot during the second world war, but to his eternal regret he never saw active service, as the war finished just six weeks before he was due to finish his final training.
In 1949 he married Glory Mullings. They lived first in Gloucestershire, then in Monmouth, before moving with their two sons to a Jacobean manor house in Strixton, Northamptonshire, in 1953. When approached by the Conservatives, who warmly invited the young baronet to join them, he declared on the doorstep of the Manor House that he was a socialist and had little time for Tories. Fortunately, most people ignored his politics and some of these Tories, as well as local socialists, became his closest friends.
Against all the odds, my father’s wine business, Cellar Management, flourished. He specialised in supplying good quality clarets to London clubs and to Oxford and Cambridge colleges. Consequently, parties at Strixton, which included fabulous food (provided by my mother) and fine clarets, became a must for many, and our house always seemed to be full of academics, artists and musicians.
While at Strixton my parents had three more children, two girls and me. Unfortunately for us, a move to London became inevitable for business reasons, and in 1964 we moved to Wandsworth Common, south-west London, where my parents lived for the rest of their lives.
After a few years of living in London, my father started to miss country life and so he acquired a second home in Monmouth, which meant that his business began to suffer. Realising that something must be done, he had the following printed on all his stationery: “To be sure of an answer telephone any Wednesday please.”
“Everyone will ring on Wednesday and not waste their time calling me when I’m not around,” he said enthusiastically.
Although his clothes were all bought from a cut-price chain store in Monmouth and he drove a tatty white Peugeot van, he really was one of life’s gentlemen. He was never vain, stuffy or pompous and would talk to anyone and everyone. The lesson in life he taught his friends and relatives was that it pays to be positive and happy.
Glory died in 2011 and he is survived by his five children, Charles, James, Julia, Catherine and me.
