Bob, Patric (sic) Dickinson was principally a poet, and for many years was the BBC's poetry editor, a post he filled with distinction. His daughter, Ginny, married the man who was best man at my wedding. I still see them occasionally and stayed with Patric's widow, Sheila, in their lovely house in Rye only a matter of months before her death. But I also worked with Patric professionally, making a number of programmes for the BBC and he was a superb programme maker, always selecting the most stimulating poetry, linking it beautifully and making the programme the exact length required with no jiggery-pokery. I think I have copies of pretty well all his own original published poetry, but he also produced volumes of translations of classical poets and scholarly editions of other poets. Perhaps best of all I like the Christmas cards he sent, writing a poem specially and having it engraved himself. Sheila continued the tradition after his death.
As a golfer he was a Cambridge blue, but he got the yips, threw the clubs in the loft and never took them out again.
In my copy of A Round I have a letter from him written in March 1990 in which he advises me that A & C Black had reissued A Round in paperback, so there might be some of those still around.