Donations

I wanted to thank everyone for their very kind and generous donations to Scotts charities. 

A massive total of £1927.00 was raised at Scotts funeral and a further very kind donation has increased this again to £2177.00. 

This has been split as follows:

£1111 has been donated to Cancer Research UK.

£1066 has been donated to World Vision. 

World Vision have explained that Scott and Samuel's sponsor child will receive £125 of the donation, the remainder will be given to a community project which will benefit everyone, including Christopher and his family.

It is an amazing sum of money. I know Scott would have been overwhelmed, I am.

Scott has touched so many lives and will continue to do so though you and your generosity. 

THANK YOU 

Eulogy by Andy Burton - Planet Birthday

                      PLANET BIRTHDAY

I met Scott within the first few minutes of my arrival on the first day of the first term at Cambridge.  I think we both felt relieved to meet each other as we had gone there with ideas about what a “typical” Cambridge person was like and were worried that we wouldn’t fit in.  We had a lot in common - we were both studying law, both from nondescript comprehensive schools from uncool parts of the country (Loughborough in my case, Lincoln in his), both played guitar, both traveled on our year out before University and, what seemed like a crazy and amazing coincidence at the time, we both shared the same birthday - March 8.  We quickly became close friends.

Our birthday always fell during term time and I think it was Scott’s idea to call it “Planet Birthday” as in “we’re off to Planet Birthday!”.  Planet Birthday was different every year and involved various other friends depending on their lecture schedules and other commitments but the one common theme was Scott and I trying to amuse ourselves to the utmost for a day.  The amusement could take lots of different forms, but was usually fairly low key given our budgetary constraints.  For example it might involve a greasy breakfast to start the day, followed by skipping a lecture to play some Adams Family pinball and maybe a lunchtime pint in the college bar or a game of Sonic the Hedgehog on Gav’s Sega.  Later in the day it would usually devolve into a pub crawl possibly taking in a college “bop” or a chip butty at Gardenias.  All fairly typical student stuff but that particular day was always special and I now realise was made even more special because those were the years when we were all forging the closest friendships of our lives.

At some point in the evening of Planet Birthday, Scott would usually perform his time-honoured trick of deciding he’d had enough to drink, going a little bit pale, and disappearing off to bed, often without even announcing his departure.  This usually exposed him to a great deal of derision for the next few days and, I must admit it was often a disappointment to have my partner-in-crime for the day unceremoniously scarper and leave me coldly exposed as “the drunkest person in the room”.

Looking back, these “paleys” as we called such departures, were part of Scott’s fundamental character.  There were things he wanted to do, he was perfectly happy in his own company and he wasn’t too bothered about peer pressure or what other people thought.  Not to say he was in any way selfish, it was just that he always happily followed his own path in life and didn’t see any reason to diverge from it.

One of his catchphrases at the time (he was always a big one for catchphrases) was “like life, expect derision”.    Scott often brought out this catchphrase to explain various “Random Robinson” happenings and, after we left college and were working in London, the same catchphrase was also used as a shorthand explanation for why he was planning on quitting his lucrative legal career to work in IT.  Later he shortened the catchphrase to just “I like life”, muttered for comedy effect with glasses askew and through gritted teeth, in mock anger.

Planet Birthday changed after we left college.  We had a bit more money so were able to organize more ambitious entertainments (I think we did an evening at Ronnie Scotts one year) but we were also following different paths so it was not always possible to meet up.  Later still after I moved to Canada and our communication became largely electronic, Planet Birthday consisted of an email message:  “Happy Planet Birthday”.  But even as recently as our 40^th birthdays less than two years ago we were still planning more Planet Birthday adventures.  A combined snowboarding trip was the latest idea but we deferred it to another year in the end because there was no urgency to it.  Who knew that we had such little time left?

It is always very easy to see logic in somebody’s life decisions in hindsight, but the logic is definitely there with Scott.  Knowing now that he only had 41 Planet Birthdays to enjoy, many of his decisions make a huge amount of sense.  He didn’t waste time with a career that he didn’t enjoy, he followed his own path which led to him to great happiness when he met Hayley, they got married and had their two wonderful children.  Reading the blog he kept in the last few months of his life, it is very clear that (cancer aside) he was very happy with his lot.  He had a great deal of contentment.  He “liked life”.

As I am sure is the case with many of us, I can’t help looking at the parallels between Scott and myself and wondering how many Planet Birthdays I have left.  Scott’s situation has certainly made me re-evaluate my priorities and, like Scott, spend more time enjoying life. One thing I can guarantee though is that now that Scott has gone, Planet Birthday will never be the same.

My thoughts now are with Hayley, Sam and Maisie - your loss is immeasurable and we send you all of our love and wish you the greatest strength.

Scott, I will really miss you mate but I promise you that on March 8 in every year I will think about how grateful I am that I had the honour of knowing you for the too-short time you had on this planet (the non-birthday one) and will raise a glass to you, dear friend, and wish you a very Happy Planet Birthday.

Eulogy by Carl Robinson - My Brother

                                          Scott’s Eulogy – Thursday 13 February 2014

Scott. My Brother.

Scott was born in 1972. The youngest of three boys. My earliest memories of Scott were of someone who was thoughtful and incredibly caring. Someone who weighed up decisions in life before invariably plumping for the right one.

When he was just 6 he decided Liverpool were going to be his football team. For those of you with an interest in football you will know that Liverpool have been consistently in the top half of the now Premier league over the 35 years he supported them. I meanwhile followed the progress of Lincoln City football club and watched them slowly slide out of the football league all together!

Scott made friends easily and kept them. He had a great friendship with Kevin Robinson during his school years, who lived only a short distance away. A familiar mantra in our house was that ‘Scott is at Kevin’s house’. Indeed when Kevin had a minor hiccup with his A level results, Scott’s caring attitude shone through and he helped him out to greater success the following year. That friendship clearly served both boys well later in life as they both carved out very successful careers.

Scott was clearly the clever one of us three boys. He spent long hours studying and achieved excellent A* levels and entry to Queens College at Cambridge University. Meanwhile I could barely spell University…so I went on to join the Police Force.

Scott told me a few weeks ago that he was really nervous about making a good impression at Cambridge. With a formal dinner (called a matriculation dinner) held near the start of the first term at Cambridge he was worried about which piece of cutlery was needed for each course of food. However, his nervousness was quickly allayed when one of his dining companions proceeded to lick his plate clean, and Scott himself left early to go and see a band called ‘The Levellers’. The days of student life!

Many of the photos of Scott that I have seen of him at University show the long hair that seemed symptomatic of many students in the early 90’s. Clearly this was one thing that didn’t run in the family!

Of us three boys Scott was always the one who caused the least amount of angst for our parents. I was off on my motorbikes, scaring my mum to death. Daniel was somewhat accident prone seeming to break most bones in his body at one stage or other, but Scott’s thoughtfulness meant that even when he managed to break his foot by walking through a window when he was at Cambridge, perhaps after a shandy too many, he didn’t tell our parents until his foot was in plaster and he was well on the way to recovery.

Indeed the biggest thing I can think of that happened to Scott was slightly later in life, which he himself recounted on his blog. The Boxing Day Tsunami in Thailand 2004. I remember watching the news on that day thinking how bad it sounded, little realising that Scott and Hayley were both in Thailand on one of the beaches just before the wave hit. Scott’s good sense saw them running as fast as they could in the direction of the hills as the wave approached and getting to high ground. His thoughtfulness again prevailed and he contacted mum and dad to let them know he was safe, before they were even aware of the Tsunami. I think we can all take learning from this. If you are down on Bournemouth beach during that one sunny day of the year and you see the sea rushing away from the beach…follow Scott’s lead…you know what to do!

I won’t dwell on the subject of Scott’s blog, as with 30,000 hits I am guessing most people here will have read at least some of it. I found his writing truly inspirational under the circumstances. If there is one thing that Scott would have wished us all to do, which he mentioned on his blog, is to review our finances to make sure your loved ones are cared for if something were to happen to you. We all think these things only happen to someone else.

Lastly, I think that Scott’s greatest achievement in life is meeting, falling in love and marrying Hayley. He has had two fantastic children, Samuel and Maisie, which growing up with the attributes of their parents I know they will do incredibly well in life. Scott was incredibly proud of his family.

Just as I am incredibly proud, to call Scott. My Brother.

Eulogy by Gavin Aiken

Following on from Scott’s own words I’d like to say a few things about him from my own perspective.

Nearly ten years ago, I asked Scott to be best man at my wedding. Then about a year later, Scott asked me to do the same thing for him – I think his exact words, by text, were that he wanted me to return a favour. I was obviously honoured to be asked, and although I was very nervous about making the speech, really the whole experience was a pleasure. When  Scott rang me just 6 months ago me to tell me about his cancer diagnosis, and asked me then if I would make a speech at his funeral, I was shocked and devastated, but my next thoughts were that at least it might not be for a number of years, that somehow he might beat it and be around for a lot longer. Horribly that has not turned out to be the case and so here I am, making a speech about my best friend which I would give anything not to have to do.

Let me take you back 23 years to 1991, when we both started at university at Queens’ college, Cambridge. Like him, I was very nervous about what it would be like, what kind of people I would meet, and if I would fit in. Scott was the first person I met, and as I remember it, I was impressed by his long hair, and thought he looked cool, seemed friendly, and immediately helped me to start to feel like I might actually enjoy it there. His recollection of our meeting was slightly different – he remembered that I was too daft to figure out how to lock my door and wondered what on earth I was doing there! Nevertheless we became great friends immediately and remained so ever since.

At college Scott had a great many friends – he always seemed to know more people than anyone else, both from our college and others - and made a big impact on college life, appearing on the front cover of the college magazine and many times in the gossip pages. Scott was the best person to while away an afternoon in the pub with, he was one of the world’s great conversationalists, both a great talker and a listener, and there would never be a lull, we’d never run out of things to talk about, 99% of them utter nonsense.

However one big aspect of Scott’s personality showed through early in those days – his strong sense of knowing his own mind and what he wanted to do. Many of us were very keen drinkers and carousers and although as he said himself in the words I’ve just read Scott hardly seemed happier than when in a pub or a bar, playing pinball, chatting about everything and nothing, and generally hanging out, he would always leave first and no amount of wheedling or persuasion would make him change his mind. This was always the case throughout the time I knew him – without being selfish, he did what he wanted to do and wouldn’t be changed from that course. In many ways that made the time that he spent with you more of a privilege, because you always knew he wouldn’t do it simply out of politeness.

Despite the many happy hours in the college bar, he managed a very good degree in law and landed a trainee place at Herbert Smith. He spent a year in York doing the legal practice course, making many more new friends in the process, before moving to London to join Herbert Smith. However despite this being one of the top law firms in the country, and what he had been aiming to achieve for years, that strength of character showed again as he pretty quickly decided he wouldn’t be happy if he stayed, so he quit law completely and joined a recruitment consultancy.

During this period he and I lived together again in Belsize Park in London, along with Tim and Mike from Queens’. Another of Scott’s very noticeable character traits was his love of humour and a good catchphrase, and it seemed like many of his favourites were coined or appropriated around this period. As a bunch of lads living together we spent a lot of time playing computer games, especially Mario Kart, and Scott was always proposing “a spot of frappé” or a “spot of Bond”. He also had many drinking related catchphrases – “pop a half in”, for when he wanted to slow down to avoid the pale face at the end of the night – “not hurting anyone” – as in “shall we have another pint?” “why not, we’re not hurting anyone are we?” – and one which started with Andy but Scott latched onto with great gusto - “it’s a small place but we’ll all be welcome”.

There are places in the world that for me will always have an indelible connection with Scott, for example the Fitzroy Tavern near Goodge Street in London, which became a default meeting point for nights out in Soho, or Taylor’s, just off Soho Square, again the start of many great nights, and chosen by Scott for the proximity to his recruitment consultancy office. However another place is more a general class of place – the mountains – because it was around this time when we went on our very first snowboarding holiday together, along with Rupert and my then-girlfriend Kath, now my wife. Kath had been skiing many times whereas Scott, Rupert and I were all total newbie idiots, but the fun of learning a difficult new skill relatively late in life, combined with a good amount of hanging around in pubs meant that we were all hooked. Since then we have had a number of amazing holidays together and Scott also spent many happy weeks with Hayley in Leysin, kindly put up by Hayley’s godparents in their chalet. I was lucky enough to go to that same place with Scott in March last year for what turned out to be Scott’s last snowboarding trip. We planned it at quite short notice, and I remember very vividly him saying a couple of times on the trip that you have to take your chances when they come along. At the time it seemed true enough as we were having a great time and had nearly not got it all arranged, but now it seems incredibly prophetic, and terribly important, as he said in his words which I just read out.

I mentioned Scott’s sense of humour just now. Scott was a funny man. He loved a joke, many of you will remember his favourite joke about a pianist, obviously not suitable for polite company and definitely not suitable for a church. Thinking over my memories of Scott, so many of them involve laughter. Scott with his glasses askew, Eric Morecambe-style, or with his arms folded, faux-curmudgeonly, disapproving of one thing or another, or repeating one of his favourite catchphrases.

Having moved out of the flat in Belsize Park and lived in Stratford for a while, Scott then made another momentous life changing decision which seemed crazy at the time but in retrospect lead to the happiest phase of his life of all. This was the decision to quit the recruitment job, which he never liked, and to leave London to go to Bournemouth to join the Chase Manhattan (as it was then) graduate IT training scheme, again making more great friends with others in the same intake and throughout the bank generally. He lived again in another crazy shared house with Kal, Pete, Simon and John, then got his own flat, and via the pursuits club crossed paths with Hayley. Luckily for him she had joined to try to meet some new friends and they hit it off and quickly became an item.

Scott loved life in Bournemouth – the coast and outdoor life seemed to suit him much better than London. He was able to go climbing and play football regularly – and he and Hayley enjoyed many travelling adventures together before settling down to start a family. In fact Hayley tells me that it was just after surviving the encounter with a tsunami on holiday in Thailand when she first suspected Scott might be planning to propose to her. He immediately started planning a luxurious trip to Barcelona, where they stayed in a beautiful hotel, went to the top of the cathedral, had fancy meals and did many romantic things which would have been perfect opportunities for a proposal. However it didn’t happen then – it was in fact a number of months later when he finally popped the question, while sitting in his favourite comfy chair in the flat, with Eastenders on TV.

After marrying his favourite bear in 2006, he and Hayley were then overjoyed at the birth of Samuel in November 2008 and again when Maisie was born December in 2010. Scott loved kids and was brilliant as a dad and so proud of Samuel and Maisie. However things didn’t always go as smoothly as Scott might have hoped – Hayley tells me of one time when Samuel was being weaned and she left Scott in change of feeding him. When she came back she found the room covered in the green spinach puree Samuel was supposed to be eating, and Scott stripped down to his boxer shorts, obviously with everything completely under control! Or another occasion when they visited Longleat safari park and Scott took Samuel into the toilets – and from outside Hayley heard a huge shout of pain and surprise, which turned out to be due to Samuel pulling the disabled rail off the wall and onto Scott’s head.

Despite these occasional mishaps, Scott was clearly as happy with his lot as he’d ever been, with the perfect wife, family, job and lifestyle. After a variety of careers and places to live he’d finally found the ideal things to suit him – he had grabbed his chances and things looked all set. Sadly however the happiness was not to last long enough and in July last year he was diagnosed with the lung cancer which was to prove fatal.

As a scientist I try to take some comfort from a few amazing thoughts. One is that every heavy atom of every molecule that makes up the planets of the solar system, the earth and every living thing on it, and all the cells and fibres of Scott’s body – all of these atoms were fused in the heart of a star billions of years ago before coming together to make everything we see around us. These atoms are now permanent and can’t be lost or destroyed, and in fact over the years to come, many of the 1200 trillion trillion water molecules which were once part of Scott will become part of each one of us here.

Another thought is that all the photons of light that ever bounced off Scott’s face, all the particles whose paths were interrupted by his smile, or his funny faces, all those hundreds of trillions of particles, have raced off like children, their ways forever changed by him. Some of those particles found their way into our eyes, and from there went on to create constellations of electromagnetically charged neurons whose energy will go on and on in the form of our memories.

Those thoughts don't really make it any better that he has gone. Scott, we will all miss you but I’m sure we will never forget you, and our thoughts are with Hayley, and the children, and Scott’s parents and brothers and family.

But he always was the first to leave the pub and I suppose you can't change the habits of a lifetime.

Final words by Scott Robinson

I didn’t expect to be sitting down to write this speech, as I didn’t expect that I would be dying this soon.  In fact, to let you into a secret, I didn’t intend ever to die.  In a sense, I have the luxury of making today the way I want it – in particular I get to choose my own music – no “Morning has broken” for example.

I would like to ask as many of you that can face it to have a great time tonight, to enjoy each others company while you can.  In particular to everyone from Queens’, get blindingly drunk, talk about old times, enjoy each others company while you can.

I do think that I am someone reasonably well cut out to cope with what has has happened to me – I have always enjoyed my own company, and being on my own, I know that sometimes I could be a little cold and aloof.  This characteristic has been useful during the last months and years.  Perhaps there was a reason for this, and in an Owen Meany way, with the ability to internalise feelings and deal with them in my own way, I was being given the tools to deal with what would happen to me.  But on the flip side, I have been privileged to make so many good friends in my life, and I have enjoyed the company of each of you in this room at one time or another.  I should say that my happiest times were either just sitting with the kids in the garden, watching them grow, or sitting with some of you in a little pub somewhere – in Leysin or The Three Valleys on the slopes, in Cambridge in the college bar, in the Fitzroy on Charlotte Street.  Or just watching some classic old re-run that meant something to me – Spaced uncovered with Gav Kath and Rup springs to mind, or Drew Barrymores brilliant smile in the Wedding Singer reminding me of H when we met.

It burns me that I will not be there for the children as they grow up, and that I will not be able to share the work (and joy) with H.  H is a coper, and will continue to do a brilliant job in the years ahead, of that I have no doubt.  Each of you here has your own burdens and lives to lead.  All I can ask is something which, if I know my friends and family as I think I do, none of you will need to be told,but which I will re-iterate anyway – as I have never been accused of being particularly subtle.  Please, in the coming months and years, do what you can to help and support H, and the children.  H will rarely ask for help.  It may be that some proactivity is required.  I will say nothing more.

The final thing to say is that, in case it wasn’t already blindingly obvious to everyone here, is that it turns out to be true what they say – you have to take your chances when they come along.  No, but really.  No, but really.

The final piece of music I have chosen is my favourite ever piece, an instrumental track which accompanies the end credits to the film In The Loop.  To me, it is another way of saying what John Lennon once said – Life is what happens while we’re making other plans - that beauty can be found, and should be actively looked for, during the most mundane and ordinary of situations, and that we should never forget to enjoy the moment, and our precious time.

Final piece of music: In the Loop End Credits Audio – Mp3.

Look what I've found!

Scott has had this in draft since September... I think is what he wanted me to post when he had passed (although he never told me)

Of all the wonders that I yet have heard,
It seems to me most strange that men should fear;
Seeing that death, a necessary end,
Will come when it will come.

"I told you I was ill." - Spike Milligan

The day we were all so hoping would not come has sadly arrived. 

It is with great sadness that I am writing this to let everyone know that Scott died peacefully at home on Friday 31st January 2014. 

Writing this blog was a great source of comfort and catharsis for Scott in the months following his diagnosis. He very much appreciated everyone's kind words and support. 

Scotts funeral will take place on Thursday 13th February. Please contact me for further details should you wish to attend.  

Spine

In the hospital, they say, the tumour has spread to your spine, which is causing the weakness in your hand. They will give you radiotherapy to try and combat it.

There are no words, or poetry for this. There seems little respite or consolation from this thing attacking you from all sides. Outside, in the rain, your wife and family live their lives, burdened by worry. For now, you have nothing to give them, or anyone. It is a bleak time. Knowing you are loved, your head is still above the water. 

Progress

You see Dr D.  You tell her the pain has increased, and you discuss and agree how much to increase the painkillers by.  You say, it's not just the pain, explain that your right hand has gone numb, there is no strength in it.  

At the appointment with Dr E, Dr G's registrar, she says, I think things are continuing to progress, and you think, no shit sherlock.  You are shorter of breath than ever.  Dr E says, I'll send you for an x-ray, right now.  So she writes out a form, hands it to you, says I'll see you in a few minutes.  As you exit the room, H takes a look at you, shuffling slowly with a grimace on your face, says, do you need a wheelchair?

You take a deep breath, for once let your common sense take precedence over your pride, say yes.  H, face impassive, conjures one out of thin air.  You sit down, stare into space think - how did we get here.  But today it seems inevitable, long walks down endless hospital corridors are out of the question.

H wheels you along, and for a second you're glad she can't see your face.  Immediately the world changes.  You become invisible, mostly people don't look at you, while you look at the floor.  

Later, Dr E looks at the x-ray result, says, yes, there is definite progression, and you think, in more ways than one.

Lucky

In some ways I am lucky.  I am, always have been, naturally self-reliant, happy with my own company, solitary, a listener, not a talker.  

These days, when I'm not feeling up to much, I am happy pottering around at home, with painkillers and the fire for company, while H dashes about, sorting everything out.  She says sorry if anything is less than perfect, and I repeat, over and over, stop apologising, you're doing a brilliant job.  

It is lucky that I like my own company,  which for better or worse over the years has manifested itself in many different ways.  I've never been much of a drinker either, and on nights out would often be the first to leave, happy to drift home before the serious drinking started - I can still see the uncomprehending faces now - Tim, Andy B, Gav.  But we're just getting warmed up, they'd say, while I was slowly turning white in the corner, patting my pockets to see where my tube pass was.  

And these characteristics allow me to cope now.  It's important to talk, I get that, and I don't bottle anything - or at least, I try not too.  Sometimes, right out of nowhere, something sets me off, and I'm suddenly overwhelmed, and there is nothing to do but let it out.  I'm pretty sure this is normal.  And while the knowledge of my condition never leaves me, not for more than a few seconds, I can cope because I often get absorbed by something else - a favourite old book, the football on the radio.  And because I have thought it through, and accepted what is going on.  Yes it's unfair, yes, it's not right, but it is what it is.  And the light it has shone on many of my relationships is something extraordinary to behold.  My wife, I run out of superlatives for.  But there are many other little acts of kindness, none of which go unnoticed, toward us.  And it is these that make me amazed that, solitary as I am, I've somehow managed to collect an awful lot of friends along the way.

If I knew then....

...what I know now.

How often have you heard that phrase?  It used to puzzle me.  I think in my youthful arrogance, I thought it was nonsense.  After all, what on earth could years and years of practical experience, and the chance to learn from your mistakes, give you that you couldn't get from a book?  Eh?  Oh.

As I'm still actually - relatively - young (although I'm probably technically classed as middle aged, I really don't feel that like mentally, although physically I feel like I'm 104) really I'm still at an age where I should be learning every day.  I am, I guess, although mostly about a subject not too many people want to become familiar with.

I think it's particularly relevant when it comes to choosing a partner.  So many people seem to make rash decisions, which have an enormous effect on the rest of their lives, based on a pretty face or whatever.

And, with my wife, I'm no different, although as each day passes, I realise a little bit more just how lucky I got.  I was at first attracted by this huge smile and impish good looks.  It quickly became apparent though that there was a lot more there than that.  And these days, I am constantly taken aback by H's capacity to cope, work hard, juggle three things at once, not get exasperated by the hand she has been dealt (i.e. me).

I often talk about my support network.  And often, subconsciously, I mean H.

She really is amazing.  I am so lucky.  And if I knew then what I know now, I wouldn't swap her for anyone.