Celebrating the Life of David Robinson - Eulogy

David was the son of Vera and Cyril Robinson — though most people knew Cyril simply as Robbie.

His early years were spent at his Nan’s and Uncle Pete’s house in Guildford. Uncle Pete was a stonemason, so naturally, David’s childhood playgrounds were graveyards. While other children had swings and slides, David had headstones and excellent company. One of these backed onto a railway line, and it was there he fell in love with steam trains — a lifelong passion that later saw him volunteering on the Mid Hants Watercress Railway. Most children grow out of their obsessions. David simply upgraded his.

When the family moved to Denmead, David acquired a dog called Crusoe, whose hobbies included eating the carpet, running away on walks, and sitting in the middle of the road until the police brought him home. Asked why he still let him off the lead, David simply said, “Because Crusoe liked it.” That was David — happy to tolerate chaos if it made someone else happy. Even if that someone was a dog with absolutely no road sense.

As a teenager, David showed early signs of… initiative. He secretly made wine in the loft, built and sold bikes from tip finds, and ran a small gambling operation using a homemade roulette wheel. It was, however, excellent preparation for life — resourceful, inventive, and just slightly concerning.

 David had only ever wanted to join the Navy, and at sixteen, he did. Being colour-blind nearly stopped him — but David simply found another way to identify wires and resistors. This didn’t prevent him from becoming a talented photographer. If David wanted to do something, he simply worked out how. Obstacles were just puzzles waiting to be solved, which is maybe why he liked Sudoku so much.

On his very first time at sea, he genuinely wondered how the ship would get back in time for tea. A reminder he was young, optimistic, and very British.

He was a fit, skinny lad who, during his Navy apprenticeship, completed the Ten Tors Challenge, ran a charity relay from London to Southampton, and played badminton, hockey, and squash for his ship. He worked on the notoriously complex 909 radar systems — known for driving many people mad — which probably explains a lot. And when not fixing radar, he could usually be found winning at Uckers. Whether he cheated remains unproven; his card games with Dbee now put this into question.

David sailed to the Falklands in June 1982. Thankfully, the war ended before he arrived, and he became part of the first peacekeeping group following the Falklands War. He was immensely proud to serve his country — and rightly so.

After ten years, he left the Navy due to terrible seasickness. The man who had always wanted to be in the Navy eventually discovered that the sea and he were not entirely compatible. However, one lasting benefit was learning to sleep through absolutely anything, thanks to his bunk being directly under the flight deck — a skill he kept for life.

After leaving the Navy, he worked overseas setting up radar sites, including time in Oman and Turkey. Returning to the UK, he joined IBM as an engineer, and it was there that he met Dbee. A very good career move, and also a life choice by all accounts.

In the evenings, he taught himself programming — shaping the rest of his career and becoming an expert in his field. Through a series of company buyouts, the name changed, but always in the same building, doing the work he loved — he rose to R&D Director. He valued the people he worked with and counted many as friends, and was never afraid to pick up a boom and clean up.

David turned his early ideas into Proteus software, now in use for around 16 years, revamping hard drives for resale. Adopted worldwide by major organisations including IBM, WD, Microsoft, and HP — with Rack-Wipe used by companies such as PayPal and eBay — his work hasn’t wiped thousands of server hard drives… It’s wiped millions. Quietly, efficiently, and very thoroughly, keeping them out of landfill. That mattered deeply to David. He was determined to leave the world better for his children and grandchildren. 

At the centre of everything was family. His friendship with Dbee grew, and they married on a shoestring but built a life rich in love, telling each other every day how much they cared — Although during card games, that love was occasionally stress-tested. Yes, he did cheat!

David’s sense of humour never deserted him. When his newborn twin sons, Oliver and Thomas, from a previous marriage, developed jaundice and had to return to the hospital, he carried them onto the ward and announced, “I’ve changed my mind — I’m bringing them back.” He always said the nurse’s expression was priceless. His timing was always impeccable.

 

He was immensely proud of both of them. He watched Oliver earn a doctorate in environmental science with huge pride, working to protect the planet — something close to David’s heart. He was always amazed by Oliver’s ability to fit more hours into a day than seemed humanly possible.

He was equally proud of Thomas, watching him commission at Sandhurst and rise to the rank of Major. He was delighted when Rosemary joined the family and became Tom’s wife, and he adored his grandchildren, Reggie and Lizzie — guaranteed to lift your spirits if you ever feel low.

He loved being an Uncle to Josh and was honoured when his sister Amanda asked him to walk her down the aisle to marry Rik, who earned David’s approval by fixing Amanda’s toilet on their second date. “He’s a keeper,” David decided.

In retirement, David enjoyed walking with his brother Michael and chatting about their childhood.

His brother-in-law Ricky became his trusted camera and drone companion, and their many discussions about photography brought David great joy.

David’s sense of humour never deserted him. When his newborn twin sons, Oliver David was deeply moved when his stepdaughter Lisa asked him to walk her down the aisle at her wedding to Carl. He never saw her as anything other than his daughter, and he knew it was reciprocated. It gave him great comfort to entrust her to someone he knew would love and care for her as devotedly as he had.

Time with his grandchildren — Keira-Mia, Kyle, Trinity, and Shaun — was precious to David. He was often seen with one of them on his shoulders and he loved walks, water fights, watching them grow and generally behaving like a child again — and getting away with it.

Many of us benefited from David’s love of photography; he usually had a camera in his hand or his drone hovering overhead, capturing important moments — as long as you didn’t mind standing still for ten minutes while he adjusted the camera - just one more time.

We did not, however, benefit from his DIY skills. A lot of the DIY at the house was done by Dbee, who was strongly advised never to let David under the bonnet of their car. One attempt to change a door handle ended with the purchase of an entirely new door after he managed to lock both himself and Dbee in a room for over an hour. (click here for a past blog on David's DIY skills) At work, his colleague Brian reportedly said that if David went to build or fix something, it was time to pick up a camera to document events, as it usually resulted in a hilarious show.

According to Dbee, David had a favourite list. She ranked below two cameras, a drone, a tripod and a dead cat. A list she accepted with admirable grace. He also collected coins, stamps, and bus tickets — and we are all reassured that the bus ticket collection will be preserved until a suitable museum can be found.

 

David lived a life full of love and quiet dedication. He travelled widely and worked meticulously — always testing and checking everything to the nth degree. During his time in Penang, he formed lasting friendships, some of whom are here today. Among them are Barbara and Gary, who, when they received a phone call from Dbee at 1am in the morning, did not hesitate — they were on the very next plane to support Dbee. True friendship indeed.

Reading through the many messages sent, one word appears again and again: Gentleman. And it’s true. David was a gentle Gentleman — one of life’s truly good people, with a quiet, subtle sense of humour. The sort who, in the middle of a very serious moment — like today — might lean over and whisper, “I’m only here for the buffet,” and somehow make everyone breathe again.

Thank you for coming today, celebrating his life and for sharing your stories with us all. 

Please raise your glass, or in David’s case, it would be a sausage roll, …. and stand on one leg, yes, that was in the will for you all to do today. I told you he had a great sense of humour; his timing was always impeccable.

To David x