John Petitt (1 Sep 1969 - 11 Jun 2025)

John, although you’ve gone , you’ll never ever be forgotten. You’ve been called to help others… That’s what we say. Until we ALL meet again x

The best one

Knew John for about 5/6 years we’d bump into each other going to work and we became friends. A lovely fella,will forever be missed

Thank you everyone for your lovely messages and generous donations and for all the love and support.

Christina , Theo , Francesca. X

A great man and a great Cabbie.

With deepest sympathy

shaunomeara64@gmail.com

Rip sj

Eulogy

I look out at the congregation and notice one face missing. The one person who has brought all of us here to this room. And after today, it is unlikely that we will all be in one room together. This joint loss will be noticed in many ways by all of us. Some may have lost a colleague, an old friend, a new friend, a cousin, an uncle, brother, a husband or in my case, a father. Dad wouldn’t have wanted us to dwell on what we have lost, and so I have written a few words to remember him by, and hopefully some of these words will resonate with you, as a celebration of his life, relationships and achievements.

Dad was born at home, the middle child of Anna maria and Trevor Joseph Petitt in Brunswick Park, Camberwell in September 1969, at a time when we were sending men to the moon, and after a summer that Bryan Adam’s wrote that catchy tune about the best days of his life or something along those lines.

As a child, I’m told he was chatty, excitable, extroverted, which as I’m sure we can all agree, where things he thankfully never grew out of. Younger brother to Lorraine and older brother to Joanne, he was described as having a childhood full of laughter, being protective of his sisters, dependable and full of quiet love. (Which come to think of it, may be the only time he’s been described as quiet.)

He attended St Joseph’s primary school in Camberwell, where I am told quite a few in attendance today were also present. And for those who don’t already know, this is also where he met the love of his life, my mother. Mum remembers him at that time as clever, sporty and popular (even amongst his teachers). I have no doubt that her memories of him are factual, rather than through rose tinted glasses, but if any of you have any other stories of him at that age, please come up to me and share them at the reception. I’m told he was very much the same throughout secondary school and college, surrounded by friends, football and the occasional fights with the neighbouring schools, building camaraderie and memories with his nearest and dearest.

The second chapter of his life began on April 1st 1989 when after returning skint from an unsuccessful day at the races, his luck was about to change. A beautiful Mediterranean young lady offered to buy him a drink on a night out and the rest as they say is history. Dad called up the next day, they went on a date to the west end to watch “Tequila Sunrise” and the cassenova dropped all of his popcorn over the row in front. Luckily, that wasn’t enough to derail a lifetime of love. And thus the collective “Christina and John” or as they would later be called “mum and dad” came to be. In the early days of building their life together, mum was taking her professional exams, and dad whilst working at Westminster council, taking pub lunch breaks from 11-18:00 and flicking elastic bands at his colleagues somehow managed to squeeze in revision for a little test called “The knowledge”.

For those of you who don’t know, the knowledge is the collective name for the theory and practical exam that all London taxi drivers must take to obtain a licence. They have to learn over 25,000 “runs” and be tested live in front of an examiner. I was amazed to find out that this test actually alters brain structure. The hippocampus is an area of the brain essential for spatial navigation, helping us understand and remember the layout of our environment. Studies have shown that London taxi drivers, have larger hippocampi compared to the general population, after rigorously training and learning all those routes. I also found out as a result, the caveat is taxi drivers were on average worse at retaining short term memories due to their bulky brains, so I guess countless arguments over household chores could have been saved had dad just bought a satnav.

Dad integrated well into mum’s large Italo-Grecian family, loved by all, especially my grandmother. He was the son she had never had, and he couldn’t put a foot wrong. Dad was also blessed with the patience to sit and listen to my grandfather, which left dad in his good graces also.

Dad and mum went galavanting around the world in ‘91, which ignited their travel bug, were engaged in ‘92 and then committed each other to a life of love, laughs and all the rest in a ceremony in ‘94. In the space between their nuptials and the new millennium, they moved into their first home, pioneers of the family, moving the 20 or so miles south of Camberwell to Surrey, became godparents and became an aunt and uncle to my cousins.

2000 rolled around the corner, along with parenthood, and sleep deprivation (for my mum). Dad on the other hand was the only father of twins who actually managed to get some good sleep in. By working at night, he would get a few hours of undisturbed sleep in the daytime, which meant he was ever present in our waking hours, and was a hands on parent, feeding, nappy changing, taking us to baby classes, something which I am ever grateful for, and times he remembered as the best days of his life.

Even from my earliest moments, I can remember how dad would always pitch up at school plays, sports days, and other day to day events early so as to gain front row seats, with his camera, always there and ever present. It’s only in later years that I’ve managed to appreciate this on a deeper level, experiencing the love and commitment through watching old footage, the cheers from behind the lens, the encouragement and the presence that has helped shape me into the man I am today. (Even if it was mum who told him to turn up many hours earlier than necessary). On the topic of cinematography, any of you have been unfortunate enough to be around on our birthday will have been forced to watch the video of mine and my sister’s birth. The man was a professional with a camera, and managed to capture the entire c-section, our first breaths and introduction to life, all whilst one of the junior doctors had passed out from shock in the background.

In 2006 dad tried his hand in international property development. He became the proud owner of a 400 year old pile of rubble in the village in which his mother in law grew up, and subsequently left for a better life. I kid of course, Braia for me is one of the places I have some of the happiest memories with my dad. He’d often arrive a week or so later than us, in order to help escort Nan and grandad over, a job he’d always get lumbered with. Italy was as much a job as it was a holiday, but it was his project, and after opening the house up for the year, he’d sunbathe, eat good food, and spend time with family. He was well liked around the village, and comically each year was selected to carry a life sized statue of the Virgin Mary in a religious parade of sorts. He’d adorn the white gown, and bear the weight of the world in the scorching heat, without complaint. And I suppose an act like that for me really sums him up; Dad was the type of man who saw a job that needed doing, and just got on with it.

Dad’s backseat was part taxi, part therapy couch, part red carpet. He’d tell us lists of stars he’d picked up, we’d get sent photos of selfies with Celebs, autographs, stories with such detail and interesting information about people it was a surprise he hadn’t a career in journalism, or television. You might imagine work as a taxi driver is a lonely place, but as it turns out, it’s not. Dad would meet up for dinner with fellow cabbies, sharing details of jobs and gossip, and with the introduction of social media, the thousands of individual taxi drivers would become one entity. He was very proud of the work that he did, and providing for his family. And so when Covid struck, he was deeply affected by how empty London was. He was fearful for his livelihood, as we all were in that time I suppose. He was used to a lively and dynamic London, that had fell silent. But ever resourceful he was on the job hunt whilst times were tough, and considered applying to be a delivery driver whilst the lockdowns prevailed. As it turned out, he was unable to apply due to too many points on his licence. And through it all he never once dreamt of turning his back on his profession, his colleagues and turning to that four letter company that I dare not mention with this many cabbies in the room, and this close to dad.

Dad also had many good friends in his home community. Parents from the school, our neighbours, the pub quiz team. They weren’t nearly as good at the quiz as they were drinking, but they had a good time and put the world to rights. When he wasn’t with friends he’d be fixing up the house, be in the garden, never stopping, and always doing something, and maybe when all the jobs were done, he’d sit down with mum of an evening to watch a show biscuit tin in the crook of his arm, and they’d both fall asleep instantly.

I was just about to start my new job last year when dad fell ill. And just like that the clock began ticking. In a cruel way when you know your time is limited, you start to change. You do things you wish you had done, you see people you haven’t seen in years, you start to realise the things that matter. Mum and dad had just celebrated their 30th wedding anniversary in style, and their whole world had done a 180 in The space of a month.

From diagnosis right until the very end, dad was so calm, and brave about the whole scenario. He kept his happy go lucky attitude and humour the whole way through. His short attention span which was previously a hinderance ended up protecting him from dark thoughts and fear of the inevitable.
It wasn’t all doom and gloom though. We had visitors from all stages of dads life pitch up and spend an afternoon or the day at the bedside. We had whole weekends in hospital watching the football with him (I don’t think arsenal won a single match), and we had special moments in which truths, sentiments and words of wisdom were shared. Look after family, enjoy life as much as possible, and don’t have any vices. Dad persisted right until the bitter end, being present in conversation, keeping upbeat and making light of a situation most men would have mentally succumbed to in the early stages.

I would like to thank all of you for coming to pay your respects and for your support in this incredibly difficult time. I would like to thank in particular my sister’s partner James, a fellow arsenal supporter, who throughout this whole ordeal, stepped up and became the man of the house, helping my family in any way he could. Dad saw you as another son, and I know that this loss has been incredibly difficult for you. I’d like to thank my partner Sam, for being there for me at all times, a support I couldn’t have dealt without and the person who has lifted me up throughout . Thank you also to my incredible Mum, Sister, Lorraine and Joanne, who were there with dad at every waking moment, dedicated, caring and attending to his every need. And thank you dad, for giving me a lifetime , love and support. Thank you for teaching me to ride a bike, tie my shoelaces, drive a car, work hard and to care for others. Thank you for being my personal chauffeur, my ally in family feuds, my biggest cheerleader and teaching me how to enjoy life to the fullest, just like you.

Dad, we will all miss you, the man that you were: generous, funny, caring . London will be that little bit quieter without you. And as the taxi light goes out for the last time, and you make that final journey up to the pearly gates, make sure you keep the meter on so that you have some cash to buy a beer with your dad, flowers for your mum, and a biscuit tin of chocolate digestives to have on the sofa.

And as a final request from dad, he would want me share with you all, in the words immortalised by Loony Tunes’ “porky pig”. “that’s all folks”


Thank you.

God bless mate

Our thoughts and prayers for the Petit family. Remembering wonderful times and sending lots of love

Rest in peace John

Buon viaggio John

So sorry for your loss. RIP John.

In memory of John, Lorraine's favorite brother. Commiserations to the family.

Dear Christina, Theo and Francesca. We’re all heartbroken over the loss of John. He meant so much to all of us. He brought so much kindness, fun and laughter into our lives. Our family gatherings will never be the same. He will be deeply missed and always remembered for the great man that he was. We're thinking of you and the whole family. Sending our deepest condolences, love and prayers to you all. May John Rest in Peace. Primo, Maria, Antonio & Cristiana xxx

Dear Christina, Theo and Francesca. We’re all heartbroken over the loss of John. He was such a brilliant dad, husband, brother, uncle, cousin and friend. He meant so much to all of us. He brought so much kindness, fun and laughter into our lives. It’s hard to imagine things without him. Our family gatherings will never be the same. He will be deeply missed and always remembered for the great man that he was. Please know that we're thinking of you and the whole family. Sending our deepest condolences, love and prayers to you all. May John Rest in Peace. Primo, Maria, Antonio & Cristiana xxxx

Sending condolences and love to Christina Francesca and Theo. Xx

In loving memory of John. All our love from Joanne, Gareth and George x

From one cabby to another RIP John thinking of you and your family on this sad 😢 day

My thoughts are with you Christina, Francesca and Theo. John was a true gentleman with a wicked sense of humour. I always enjoyed our conversations even though it was business, he always made me smile. I can also remember those Hawthorns parties, where we always got up to mischief.

Rest in peace my old friend. Gone too soon 💔. Condolences to Christina and all the family x

Sincere condolences to you all - rest in peace John.