We got in and he drove us home in his minicab and helped us get in the flat, carrying some of the many things that go everywhere with you when you have a baby.

He stayed for a while and we got talking, about all kinds of things including some of his life story and especially about his boys and how proud he was of them. 

He wouldn't accept any payment for bringing us home, despite the fact that he drove his minicab for a living.

That was the start of a lovely friendship and we regularly saw Ernest - he would drop by for a chat when passing, or we would speak on the telephone. It was always great to hear his voice and the sound of his laughter - it was so infectious that you always ended up laughing too, regardless of how you'd felt at the start of the call. 

His minicab business was in, I think, Kidbrooke, not far from where we lived. His drivers weren't all the most reliable - he told me quite a few stories to that effect - but Ernest kept the business going. That part of South London had a bad racism problem and that, coupled with nasty competitors in the minicab trade, saw his cars frequently vandalised or worse, torched. 

I remember one day he told me that three of the cars had been attacked, with one burnt out. It was a real pressure for him to keep the minicab office open, and he would tell me about it when we spoke. I lent him my car for a while to keep things going - it felt like repaying his kindness to us. 

Through it all Ernest was dignified and kept a sunny disposition - always talking about cricket and tales of his life in Jamaica, always cracking a joke! He was always telling me about his granny and parents and how longevity ran in his family - he'd often say that living to be one hundred was pretty normal in his family.

I always admired how he worked so hard for his boys, to provide for them. 

Times were often tough but Ernest did what he could, even when the odds were stacked against him.

I remember that in about 2008 I got a call from him, and he sounded frightened. The Government Home Office had said that he didn't have the necessary paperwork to be in the UK and that he might be deported, despite having lived here for decades. 

 We talked about it and he got a lawyer. I wrote a letter stating that I 'd known Ernest for nearly a decade and that I knew his sons and that they had all been born here. It took some time and some sleepless nights on his part, but the threat was dropped after a tribunal, thanks to his legal team. 

 Through it all, and despite how worried he must have been, Ernest carried on and kept a positive outlook - he was that kind of man. 

 He met all my children, except my now two year old, and had a lovely way with them and made them all laugh. 

 He was a great friend, full of life, and I was very saddened to hear of his passing. I miss him very much and look back with fondness to the times that we knew each other. 

 Rest in peace, Ernest. 

 Richard Elsen