As Aristotle said: “Give me the child until he is 7 and I will show you the man” and I suppose the story of everyone’s life begins with what they learn in their childhood from their parents. For my father, his greatest influence was his father, Edger Lionel Robinson (better known to the Cheshire Constabulary as Percy Johnson, the bicycle thief, but that’s a whole set of stories for another day!).
His mother was housekeeper to a big house in Altrincham, so Edgar was brought up by his mother’s brother, Edgar, and his wife Lucy, who could not have children of their own. Uncle Edgar always took the place of a father. On leaving school, Edgar went to work in a cycle factory and, when Ford came and opened their factory at Trafford Park, he moved there. Lying about his age, he joined up during the First World War and continued in the peacetime army until 1922
At Bodiam that they a wonderful heard of Channel island dairy cows, to which my father become devoted. One in particular took his fancy, called Bodiam Emblemata: we ended up with a dog called Emma – my mother refused to call out the name “Emblemata” in public!
One thing I must say about my grandfather is that he had a wonderful sense of humour. He would plague my grandmother with practical jokes, and would often enlist my aid, such as the time he hid grandma’s poker in my wheelchair and we took it home with us! That is a characteristic my father clearly inherited: his sense of humour was legendary and he was always young at heart. He spent some time at the Metal Box factory in Wisbech, where the company put them in diggs. He, and the other lodgers had received what they thought was a bit of a raw deal from their landlady given how much she was paid by the company so, on the last night they stayed there, my father rigged up a contraption in the landlady’s bed so that every time she lay down the front door bell would ring. At last all that training with telephone wires in the Royal Corps of Signals paid off! Lest I give the wrong impression, in the Army my father learned Morse Code (which he could interpret when hearing it, for example, on the television well into his 80s) and, according to his pay book, there were multiple very secret courses about cyphers (about which he never spoke).
Sadly my grandfather developed motor neurone disease and died quite young. Leaving school, my father joined the accounts department at Henley’s cable works until called up for National Service. Although he never returned to the company he continued to play cricket for them until the end of the 1964 season. As a young man, he had trials for the Kent cricket team. The story goes that he was one of two cricketers competing for one place and my father lost out to a chap called Colin Cowdrey.
However, it did lead to wicket-keeping coaching from the Kent great, Godfrey Evans, who had 99 England caps. When we moved to Cranbrook in 1964 our next door neighbour was Ray Harding, who many of you will remember. Ray persuaded my father to play for Benenden, which he did for a number of years. His cricketing career ended when he was playing for Hastings Priory against a West Indies 1972 touring team. My father was hitting the ball all over the ground under the bowling of a player called Keith Boyce who, in frustration, sent down a bouncer which hit my father on
the fingers, an injury he carried to the end of his life. After leaving the army, he joined the American company Metal Box at their new factory in Strood. Their systems of accountancy were way more sophisticated that anything we had known before in this country, and my father took to them readily.
1964 was a big year for the family. My father joined Guinness: his experience of the new accountancy methods was greatly prized, not only at the hop farms, but throughout the Guinness Group. He was regularly asked to get involved with what today we would call ‘due diligence’ checks on new business acquisitions. Unfortunately, Lord Iveagh had a habit of having these checks done only after he had acquired a business, often with unexpected consequences!
Also in 1964, we moved to Cranbrook. My mother had been planning to train as a teacher before I came along and changed the plan. In Cranbrook she became the school secretary at the Mary Sheafe School and later Angley School. She was encouraged to teach keyboard skills and later some commerce. She took day release courses at Bromley and qualified as a commercial teacher, moving to Bennet Memorial not long before she died. 1965 was an even more significant year when the family welcomed a baby girl. I know some of you can remember Cham, our first Golden Retriever. Cham came from working stock and at one time she and my father spent time picking-up for our vet’s shoot. Although we had no plans to do so, my father was persuaded by the breeder to show Cham: she came home from her first show with three first prizes — and that was it! Andred Golden Retrievers was now a thing!
Should you need a life-long friend
All faithful, loyal and true
Choose one with four long slender legs
And a tail that welcomes you!
In 1971 we moved to our present house to give the dogs more space and over the years our two families lived happily side by side until our last Golden passed away in 2022. We never had a lot of litters, only when we were ready for the next generation to join the family. And every single one is a cherished memory. Until 1984 just about every weekend in the season was taken up with dog shows and we got to travel the country from Doncaster in the north, to Malvern in the west, Pontypool in Wales and as far as Newton Abbot in the south west.
Some here will remember our boy Soffa [Styal Sophocles of Andred] who did so well against strong competition in his age group and was just one ticket short of becoming a full champion. It was during this time we began to meet our friends in the Golden community, especially here in Kent: some of the survivors are here today. Frustrated that the breed societies organised shows and trials but not social events, we became founder members of the Southern Golden Retriever Society.
My father was the first treasurer. Later the welfare and support scheme for members evolved into Southern Golden Retriever Rescue, of which my father was also treasurer. His work in setting up the trust deed can only be described as masterly, and we know provided the template for so many other rescue schemes, to which my father freely gave advice.
As Rescue grew, my father relinquished the treasurership of the Society and continued with Rescue until his failing eyesight made it no longer possible, although he continued as a trustee for many more years, while Gillian was the Administrator.
My parents met as Sunday school teachers at Christ Church, Milton-next-Gravesend, married at Michaelmas 1951 and I was born 16 months later. In 1984, on the way to the SGRS Championship Show at Leatherhead along the M25 my father’s car hit a loose hub cap on the road. The car span round in a circle, but my father managed to bring it under control on the hard shoulder. Just at that point there was a bridge over the motorway. To save money, the bridge was too short and the buttress was built on the hard shoulder, and my father just could not miss it. My mother and Soffa’s
younger brother Samuel, both died in the crash and my father was very badly injured. He spent nine days in the intensive care unit and passed away twice. Not expected to live, the surgeons patched him up as best they could, which left him with injuries which plagued him for the rest of his life, especially his right leg, where he had no kneecap, just thee bones wired together as a temporary measure – a temporary measure which was to last more than 40 years!
In 1987, while I was serving abroad, my father suffered a hernia and was hospitalised. The ladies of the SGRS drew up a visitor rota, so that everyday he was in hospital he had a visitor. One of these ladies as Gillian. Although we had known Gillian in passing for perhaps 20 years before this, it was during this time that they really got to know each other, and they were married in 1988.
We had only ever had three dogs at once, but when they married Father had three, Gillian had three, then two of our older dogs returned home after their new owners had passed away, and Gillian bought my father a puppy, Teazel, as a wedding present. Suddenly we had nine dogs in the house! It was a fun time, each their own personality, although the numbers dwindled as nature took its course.
When the Bodiam farms became unviable for hop growing due to disease and the regulations under the Common Market hop growing ended. My father had a vision for the future of the farm, but the company wanted to sell up. Shortly afterwards, Whitbread invited my father to move to their farms at Paddock Wood to implement his vision, but in the end he declined. He also declined an invitation from the Haas Brothers, the world’s biggest hop growers, to move to Idaho. A time at the Teynham farms followed, with wonderful Gail to look after him. Then Guinness sold up all the hop farms and my father was given early retirement. It pleased him that, although his pension was actuarially reduced, he drew it for so many years that he got his own back!
For some years after Guinness, he was treasurer to the Council for the Responsible Use of Alcohol, later known as The Portman Group, and was behind their proof of age card, the first of its kind in the country. He left The Portman Group when his work in Rescue grew to the point where he couldn’t do both jobs and he wanted to spend more time with Gillian.
In fact, my father was a serial retire-er, yet every time something else came along! He retired from Guinness, he retired from the Portman Group he retired from SGRS and he retired from Rescue. But he never retired from, or grew tired of, life. He was always ready to give someone the benefit of his wide-ranging experience. I could not have asked for three better parents. They encouraged and supported me in everything I did. 50 odd years ago, qualifying as a lawyer took about seven years, and I was the first articled clerk in the firm to be paid (£20 a week!), and so my parents supported me financially, too.
My father had a very strong faith. When we moved from Gravesend to Cuxton my father served on the PCC for seven years. Cranbrook remained our spiritual home for more than twenty years even after we moved to Hawkhurst, before my father and Gillian joined the congregation here in St Laurence, where they became very active members of the church.
My father served on the PCC for a while (followed by another retirement!), Gillian was an active member of the flower guild, they looked after the Sightsavers Christmas tree for many years and Gillian organised the welcomers rota for a number of years.
Sadly, that all came to an end in 2020 with the first lockdown. And during this time, my father endured two major surgeries on his left ankle. Just days before the first lockdown, Gillian was diagnosed with cancer, and we lost her in August 2023. What sustained my father for the last four years of his life, through Gillian’s final months, and a support in so many ways to me, was our team of magnificent carers led by Emma all of whom added joy to our days and comfort in life and death. I have tried not to mention too many people by name, lest I inadvertently forget someone, but I will mention Emma, Sabrina, Millie, Amanda and Lucy, and we could not have kept Gillian and my father at home until the end without them.
One thing many people have asked me to explain is why my father, whose baptismal names were Horace (after his maternal grandfather) and Edgar after Uncle Edgar, was always known as “Robbie”? Children tease without realising that they are bullying. In my father’s childhood, “Horace” was the “Kevin” of his day. Comics had strips for “Hungry Horace” and “Horace Horsecollar”. At least I only had to contend with a walnut whip! So my father preferred not to use his baptismal names. Either during his time in the army, or just after, Robbie stuck, being a contraction of his surname.
These are my memories, or at least some of them, but I wanted to end with some quotes from the many cards and letters that I have received and have been a great source of comfort and support to me. I cannot tell you how grateful I have been. Robbie was, in so many ways, a remarkable man, who had experienced so much in his long life and was sustained throughout by his deep faith, which he lived out in so many of his relationships and in the manner of his life.
We knew him for over 50 years and will always remember him as a kind, sincere, gentle Gentleman. Thank you, Robbie, for being our friend.
Our family has very fond memories of Gillian and Robbie. We are super grateful to them for the fun they gave to our family. Their love of golden retrievers was highly infectious. Robbie was one of the first people we got to know back in the 70s when we first started in Goldens. He did so much for rescue and was an unsung hero giving his time, effort and devotion to setting up the charity. Rescue has so much to thank him for. He was a true gentleman. Robbie was a grand gentleman and a man you could be proud of. A true friend to Golden Retrievers and to the societies and organisations he served for many, many years.
Duncan Robinson