Mister Daudey 29/04/1916 – 24/11/2011
Let me take you on a journey back to my childhood, to a story about Mister Daudey, a remarkable, humorous, strong, and truly unique man who shaped my life in ways I’ll never forget.
A Toddler’s World in Breda
I was just a toddler, living with my parents and brother in Breda, having moved there three years earlier from Den Bosch, my birthplace. My grandparents, my mother’s parents, lived in Den Bosch on Jacob Obrecht Street. Right across from them was the Daudey family—a lively household with five children: four girls and one boy, Jan, who was my age. Every Saturday, Jan and I met in the sandbox, perfectly positioned between my grandparents’ house and the Daudeys’. Our family drove to Den Bosch every weekend, staying with Oma and Opa. We were a proper, standard young family, and the neighborhood could tell, especially on Sundays, by our polished clothes. As a 3- or 4-year-old, I already loathed those stiff outfits. To this day, I have a thing against overly formal clothes—they restrict your freedom to just be. When I’d ask, “Mom, can I go outside?” she’d reply, like a broken record, “Yes, but mind your clothes.” Clothes mattered to her, but not to me.
A New World Across the Street
A few years later, around age 7, Jan invited me to his house across the street. The Daudey family was the complete opposite of ours—180 degrees different in every way. Their home was relaxed, delightfully messy, and I felt instantly at ease. On Sundays, they had a tradition of heading into nature, wearing old clothes and packing snacks for the road. I was thrilled to join them, but my pristine Sunday outfits weren’t suited for the adventures ahead. Mister Daudey said, “We’ve got an old overall and boots from Jan—take off those fancy clothes and put these on.” Off we went, with the boyfriend of the eldest daughter in tow, to the Zuiderplas. We jumped over ditches (often failing spectacularly), climbed trees, and, well, you can imagine—a day of wet clothes, muddy hands, and pure joy. I’d never experienced anything like it. Back at the Daudeys’, I’d shower, slip back into my proper clothes, and return to Oma and Opa’s, where they were already sipping drinks. I kept these outings a secret at home, fearing my parents would stop me. They thought I was just playing with Jan’s Dinky Toys…
Building a Sailboat at Seven
Mister Daudey, the director of the MTS (secondary technical school) in Den Bosch, saw that Jan and I were handy kids. He showed us blueprints for a small sailboat and said, “Why don’t you two, Jan and Bas, build it in the backyard?” I could’ve cried from excitement—building a boat at age 7! For months, I’d ditch the Sunday clothes, pull on the overall, and dive into the project. It was pure magic. When the sailboat was finished, we took it to the Zuiderplas to sail. I dreamed of living with the Daudeys; it felt like home. Years later, when the family moved to a Den Bosch suburb, they built their new house themselves. Even the girls helped, laying bricks and operating the concrete mixer. I was there most weekends, soaking it all up.
From Boats to a Church Conversion
Years later, after my “hip” phase in the Orthenstraat, Mister Daudey asked Jan and me to help convert an old emergency church he’d bought in Bokhoven, a tiny hamlet near Den Bosch, into a home. See this page for details. By then, he’d also bought a small motor yacht, and we’d sail to Zeeland, where Daudey, a true Zeelander at heart, was born in Bruinisse. Those trips were unforgettable.
A Lasting Legacy
In short, Mister Daudey shaped my life profoundly. His easygoing nature and the trust he placed in Jan and me at such a young age were extraordinary. I owe so much to him—many of my later projects, from renovations to adventures, were a natural extension of the experiences he gifted me as a child.