The last “Philip” (or in this case, Phillip) Robinson of our journey was my father, whose perhaps greatest gift to me came in the first days of my life. As mum lay convalescing after my birth, as women were made to do in those days, dad slipped some travel brochures under her pillow for her to read when she was alone. Things were looking bleak politically in SA and so he had begun to look at opportunities to leave. Ruling out Australia and Canada, then New Zealand, they settled on the UK, the “Old Country” and mum’s homeland, and the one with most family connections. It was a decision that played an enormous part in who I am today.

Born Colin Clive Phillip Robinson on 16th October 1936, his earliest recollections were of living in Newton Park, Port Elizabeth before moving to the neighbouring suburb of Sydenham and starting school at Sydenham Primary School when seven. While at school he was seriously embarrassed by his mother who insisted he wear short white socks for the cricket team while everyone else wore their normal school grey socks, then being refused permission to join the Cubs because he would have to wear a belt and she insisted on braces. However, his mother couldn’t do anything about the uniform when he joined the school cadets. He would have loved to join the cadet band but it was soon obvious that he lacked the ear or any aptitude for musical instruments. However, time spent in the shooting butts was different and he usually scored fairly high.

During the period his father was transferred to Bitterfontein it was agreed that Colin would stay with his maternal Grandfather and Aunt in Sydenham. With his father being on the railways, the family was entitled to free travel so dad used to travel ‘home’ to Bitterfontein during major school holidays and experienced some of the life in that more remote part of South Africa. These experiences were not without drama though as on one occasion he brought measles with him which both his father and his sister, Wanda, caught. Another time he arrived having picked up head lice, possibly from the railway carriage, going back to school with a shaven head to the great amusement of the rest of the class.
However it was also very exciting for a city boy; he particularly remembered one occasion when the whole group of railway workers and their families went out into the bush for a night time braaivleis (barbecue). It was also hunting country, so there was fresh springbok available every day with one being eaten, one hanging for biltong, one in the outside coke fridge and one coming in the front door from the latest hunt.

Back in Port Elizabeth, the block of flats that his Grandfather lived in overlooked the primary school. One day he and another pupil, Hughie Gunston, were have an argument after school and getting ready to square up to each other when out of nowhere his aunt came flying across the road to sort them out. She terrified poor Hughie who never forgot that moment, so that even when he was best man at my parent’s wedding he reckoned he was still scared of her.
Just before his Grandfather retired he bought a small cottage at Humewood (Port Elizabeth) next to Happy Valley and only 100 yards from the beach. That was a very happy time for dad, meeting his grandfather at his place of work about 100 yards away from the school and then driving home in his 1936 Morris. With his grandfather being a stickler for observing the speed limit dad was made to hold a 30mph notice on a stick out of the car window if anyone tried to overtake them! It annoyed some drivers but apparently the police found it most amusing. Dad could also trace his arachnophobia back to this time.  He was friends with a younger kid a couple of doors away and one day while playing in his model car, he was furiously ringing the bell when it suddenly grew big hairy legs. As the tarantula made its presence known you couldn’t see the young Colin for dust.  Other great memories of this time include being sent a whole buck from the surplus of venison in Bitterfontein, skinning and distributing it among the neighbours, and on another occasion they received a record from his uncle Tommie in England, a cabaret artist. The disc arrived with a special needle to play it, but was all twisted and bent and they had to spend a great deal of time straightening it out without damaging the cutting. When then were finally able to play it the quality wasn’t the best but it was great that Granddad could hear his son performing. After a few years the family were all back in Port Elizabeth living in Newton Park.

They were always a regular Church going family and as soon as he was able dad took up Sunday School teaching. He also joined the newly formed Church Guild for those 16 and over becoming responsible for the group arranging speakers and outings, etc. around the religious activities of the Guild. One of the regular events was Easter camp. This was a District wide camp for all the Guilds in Port Elizabeth and Grahamstown. They used to pile a lorry high with kit, food, baggage, etc., and then a few of the older ones would travel on top of this pile to the camp which was about 75 miles away while the rest travelled in open lorries to the site. A great time was had by all and it was the event of the year. It was at one of these camps that he first met Natalie Ellicott.

Soon after they were married, the company dad had worked for since leaving school decided it was time for him to move on so he got a position with another Quantity Surveying firm in Durban where he could finish university and stayed with them for two years. Then a friend from his old firm who had moved to Johannesburg offered him a job with a contracting company up there, so they upped sticks to Johannesburg where he ended up with a company working exclusively with Anglo American Mining Company doing engineering surveying on the gold and diamond mines in and around Jo’burg.
The work was very interesting but for mum and dad Johannesburg wasn’t (apart, of course, for the birth of their first child (me)). By this time they were seriously considering emigration and dad was applying to firms in both New Zealand and the UK.

When he got a reply from a firm in London confirming that they would sponsor him and offered him a post in their Final Account section the move abroad was settled. There was just time to deal with all the trauma of packing, planning and moving from Jo’burg to PE to spend the last month in South Africa with the families, telling everyone they were only going to be gone for two years to gain experience but knowing they would not be coming back.

Colin started work at Young & Brown in Wood Street, Moorgate but the cost of travel to London, from where we were living in Rayleigh, Essex, was becoming prohibitive and so he took up a position of office manager of a small sub office in Southend. Over the years dad worked for a short while in Chelmsford and then for a London company with a contract at Littlebrook Power Station on the banks of the Thames near the Dartford crossing. It was here that he worked on the chimney that became known within the family as “Dad’s Chimney” and later, “Dad-dad’s chimney” as his grandchildren learned of his exploits. After about two years there he got a call from Head Office to come in for an interview with a client; Chevron Petroleum, who were wanting a surveyor to work on a project building the legs for an offshore drilling platform at Nigg Bay in Scotland. After a very happy couple of years travelling between London and Nigg and working with some very good American engineers, he found himself back in London, then Canvey Island before moving to Hemsby in Norfolk and working in Great Yarmouth with Trett Contract Services, Shell and British Gas. Other places he worked include Sunderland, Glasgow, Zambia, Hong Kong (twice), Holland (twice), East Germany and Denmark (twice) and yet somehow, despite travelling extensively for work and being away a lot, he was never ‘absent’. Towards the end of his career he also went independent forming his own company Colrob Engineering & Contract Services Ltd before retiring in 2001.

Away from work he was keen on DIY although his projects often started well without necessarily getting those finishing touches – after over ten years living in Maylandsea mum had to be resigned to moving to Norfolk without her built-in wardrobes ever getting doors. Still, he did finish two extensions and a rather marvellous climbing frame. We had regular holidays, often camping somewhere in the UK, or at other times touring Scotland, Wales or the west country in a Morris Traveller with the kids set the task of seeking out vacant B&Bs in the growing gloom (probably just to keep us quiet). Sometimes we went down to Devon and stayed with Mum’s uncle Stan on his farm. All were very enjoyable and exciting in their own ways,  but in 1971 Colin pushed the boat out and drove the family to Mošćenička Draga, (then in Tito’s Yugoslavia on the Dalmatian coast – now Croatia) in a red Morris Mini. The small boot was full of engine spares and the roof-rack laden with three large suitcases, three kids under 10 in the back and about 1100 miles each way. Three nights on the road, a week in the resort and three nights back; quite the adventure!

Colin finally got to join the scout movement too, as a leader (I think his first nom de guerre was Baloo), shortly after I joined 6th Rayleigh cubs. By the time we moved to Maylandsea, a small village on the River Blackwater, I had moved up to scouts and he came with me. 1st Maylandsea Sea Scouts were very active and very popular, so much so that the troop had to split and Colin became the first leader of 1st Maylandsea Ark Royal. The next few years were extremely enjoyable with 1MAK going from strength to strength, camping trips home and abroad, including jamborees and competitions, sea kayaking and river canoeing in home-made vessels; as Colin had worked out that buying one fibreglass mould was better value than buying several canoes! Colin was also rising through the ranks of the scout movement becoming District Commissioner for Maldon and Dengie and then the Assistant County Commissioner for Essex before moving to Norfolk in 1982. He did get involved with Norfolk scouts but the growing regulation of activities eventually became a source of great frustration. Not that he was ever reckless; his view was that proper training, proper preparation and knowing what to do if things went awry, coupled with not doing the stupid thing, would see you right. “Health and Safety” rules should be a safety net not a tether.

In 1990 they bought a house in France. Well, actually more of a run-down shell of a farmhouse and dad, mum and mine and my brother Michael’s families spent several very enjoyable working holidays fixing the place up in his unique way, frustrating the hell out of the local bricolages, before finally enlisting the help of a local ex-pat to finish the job.

After retiring Colin became active in local affairs, holding a position on the Hemsby Parish Council with responsibility for the Parish Quarterly Magazine, and with the Hemsby Festival for about five years, becoming chairman for the last two. Mum and dad also took to cruise holidays and visited many parts of the world doing so.

After living for some 35 years on the Norfolk coast, in 2015 mum and dad moved to the Isle of Wight and were very happy, before dad fell ill in the summer of 2017. He recovered enough to enjoy Christmas with us in Portsmouth but by Easter he was again in a critical condition and he died on 13th April 2018.