Robin J. ('Jock') Roxburgh died on 31st December, 2000, the eve of Hogmanay.

Jock (to the boys), 'Rox' (to his colleaques), joined the staff of the Boys' High School in 1948. lt was his first foray across the border, and he was to remain in charge of Physical Education at the school until he returned to Scotland in 1957.

He was a thorough, well organised man, as indeed he had to be, with a small gym and a playing field some distance away at Oliver's Mount. He soon made his mark and, with the support of 'Hov' and 'Stod', the school's reputation in games, especially rugby, became well established. They were, as he once commented, the happiest days of his teaching career.

Jock was a true Scot, and proud of everything Scottish. He celebrated Hogmanay in style and Burns night with great panache. The haggis was piped in, the grace pronounced and glasses raised. A malt whisky was carefully preserved for the occasion.

Jock was a great reader - a genuine searcher after knowledge. Although diffident by nature he often triumphed in staff room debate against colleagues who professed a more illustrious academic pedigree.

I often walked up to the playing field with Frank Binder and Jock. I hasten to say that Frank went purely for the fresh air! We would have lively discussions - philosophical or political. To his surprise, Frank found Jock a formidable intellectual adversary. No doubt to the alarm of the Deepdale bourgeoisie the exchanges were fierce. Frank would brandish his umbrella, utter some choice German phrases, but would invariably conclude, 'You must let me have the title of that book, Rox, ...uh ... uh!'

An unassuming, quiet man, Jock loved the High School. He thought Scarborough was a wonderful place. Here his young family grew up; here he learned about Yorkshire folk; here he gained in expertise and confidence. He left in 1957 and returned to Scotland.

Subsequently he retired to a delightful cottage in a Somerset village, reading three books a week, and revelling in the feats of Viv Richards and Ian Botham at Taunton cricket ground.

His final years were spent back in Scotland. In his last few months cancer took a hold and his eyesight failed. He rang me a week before his death. He was cheerful in his recollections of Scarborough, sad in no longer being able to read.

Jock was a gentleman and a gentle man. He will be remembered by many with affection.