Father-of-six Terry Madden

YOU could hear Terry Madden before you saw him. He toured streets with his trolley, offering, in his rich voice, to sharpen your tools and knives.

Terry, who has died aged 61, had been a charismatic street trader and rag’n’bone man, a natural raconteur with so many scrapes to recall.

His childhood was spent between Mayo, where he fell in love with the Irish countryside and horses, and London where he attended Quintin Kynaston School – now the Harris Academy – in the same year as Suggs, the Madness frontman. The pair would go to Chelsea matches together and their friendship lasted for the rest of Terry’s life.

Another lifelong friend, John Worroll, met Terry aged 14 at The Winch youth club in Swiss Cottage.

“He took me into the world of being a skinhead,” he said. “He was charismatic. He took me to get a haircut and told me to get a number one. I was completely bald and I wasn’t allowed to go to school for two weeks.”

He added: “Terry was into his reggae and ska. In 1978, we went to the Electric Ballroom to see Desmond Dekker. Terry said to me, ‘C’mon let’s dance on stage.’ So he climbed up. The bouncers tried to get us off but Terry was such a great dancer, Desmond told them to leave us alone.”

Terry met his lifelong love Tracy as he walked along Mill Lane to school. She was heading the other way and the pair caught each other’s eye. They became inseparable and had seven children together: six daughters – Hayley, Katie, Claire, Coleen, Kirsty, Roisin and Angel – and a son, Jon-Jo. Terry and Tracy lived in Somers Town, Gospel Oak and West Hampstead, and in more recent years they settled in Kentish Town. Football – and Chelsea – were never far away.

He loved football culture and it was a natural progression for Terry to see how following his favourite team could also be a good opportunity to turn a profit.

He became a key figure in ticket touting outside London football grounds.

“He had the gift of the gab and he loved using it,” recalled his youngest daughter, Angel. “He loved to get a crowd round when he had something to sell. He knew how to charm people, he would find a common interest. He could speak to anyone, no matter who they were or where they were from.”

Terry was a big Chelsea fan and used to go matches with Suggs, who met at school

His family recall how he could leave the house with £1 in his pocket in the morning and come home later with £500. From working market stalls to selling out of a suitcase, he could be found flogging handkerchiefs in Petticoat Lane or fake watches and faux-gold jewellery from a suitcase on Oxford Street. Portobello, Church Street and Camden Town markets were other haunts.

Daughter Roisin added: “He was the last of a dying breed. His approach to money was to get it fast and spend it fast.”

When the spring had arrived, he’d pack a sleeping bag and a jam sandwich and visit villages to sell door to door.

He called it “Hedge Humping”, following ancient routes he’d learned from travellers, keeping alive a tradition of the itinerant salesman. Summer nights would be spent sleeping outside under hedges or curling up in a hay loft. Then with a magpie’s eye for items of worth, he worked as a rag and bone man with a hand barrow, and then set up a scrap dealership.

In the 1990s, Terry kept two horses at an Iverson Road yard and would do his rounds with them. He never owned a mobile phone and would always leave his house without a door key. If the family wanted to get hold of him, his children would fan out and visit a pub each until one of them brought him home.

A parishioner at St Dominic’s in Gospel Oak, every Christmas Eve he would balance his love for chewing the fat in the pub with his faith, having drinks in the Robert Peel in Queen’s Crescent before heading along for midnight mass.

Food – simple fare such as boiled bacon and cabbage, fish pies and Sunday roasts – was another source of joy, as were his favourite tipples red wine, Jameson and Guinness, while giving him a jelly baby would garner a grin. In recent years he had gone door to door with a trolley to sharpen knives, with many waiting for his regular streetside call and enjoying his company as much as needing cutlery looked after.

Terry was diagnosed with cancer five years ago but never complained or allowed treatment to slow him. He visited two of his favourite pubs, the Southampton Arms and The Old Oak, to have a pint the day before he died.