As I look back on my life, I realise that no story of mine would be complete without remembering my children — Paul, Julia, Kathryn, Phillip, and Carolyn. They are the threads that run through every chapter, shaping my choices, my joys, and my sorrows. Though distance and circumstance have kept us apart at times, my memories of them remain vivid and precious.

In this chapter, I want to honour who they are, the moments we shared, and the love that has never faded, even when life made it difficult to express.

Paul

Paul has always met life head-on, with quiet determination and courage. As a boy, he approached challenges with focus and curiosity — whether in the classroom or on the rugby field — becoming Head Boy at Rosmini College and earning a place in the First XV. He later studied at Christchurch University, where he obtained a degree in geology, a testament to both his dedication and intellect.

He was a quiet boy and a great reader. I was friendly with the headmaster of Rosmini College, and one day, while we were at the gym together, he said to me, “You are Paul’s father, aren’t you?” When I replied yes, he added, “Do you know, Paul — now that he’s head boy — reminds me of Gary Cooper.” When I asked why, he smiled and said, “Because in the old movies Gary Cooper would answer with ‘Yep’ or ‘Nope’ — and that’s exactly how Paul speaks.” We had a good chuckle about that, and it remains a fond memory.

During my years with Air New Zealand, particularly when I travelled frequently to the UK, Paul was someone we could always rely on. He carried responsibility without complaint, steady and dependable beyond his years.

Today, Paul lives in New Zealand with his wife, Debs, where together they run one of the largest dairy farms in the South, caring for around 1,500 cows. Alongside this demanding life, they raised three fine boys — Todd, Guy, and Kirk — all of whom played active roles on the farm. They also kept riding horses and, as a family, rode and competed in dressage competitions.

Even now, Paul’s energy is remarkable. He continues to compete in triathlons and cycling races, often joined by Todd and Kirk, while Guy manages much of the heavy machinery on the farm. Watching the man Paul has become — grounded, capable, and committed — fills me with deep pride.

Julia

Julia’s warmth and empathy have always shone brightly. From an early age, there was an ease in the way we talked and laughed together — her laughter infectious, her presence comforting. I have always admired her heart and the quiet gentleness she carries in all that she does.

Julia was playful, always smiling, and carried a happiness that lifted those around her, as I mentioned earlier in The Sussex. One memory, however, remains especially vivid and painful. When we arrived in Melbourne during our voyage to New Zealand, Julia contracted measles and was taken from us and placed in quarantine for three days. Those days were gruelling beyond words. The helplessness of being separated from our child has never left me.

As she grew older, Julia forged her own path. She went into banking and later worked overseas on cruise ships, where she met Eugene. When they returned to New Zealand, they married and built a life together, raising three daughters — Sarah, Rachel, and Helen. Through Sarah and Rachel, our family has grown further, and I am now a great-grandfather, a thought that still humbles me.

One memory still makes me smile. Living in Redvale, Julia rang to say her car had broken down. I went to collect her, towing the car to the nearest garage. I had just bought a new Nissan Bluebird estate — my first automatic. After unhitching the tow rope, I jumped back into the car and instinctively hit the accelerator instead of the brake, sending it straight into a brick wall. The damage was impressive, the fault entirely mine, and of course it happened just before Christmas. Julia showed more concern for me than the car — kindness that has always defined her.

Kathryn

Kathryn followed her own path early. She did not join us at Redvale, choosing instead to attend Dunedin University, where she studied social economics. She excelled and was offered the opportunity to major in the subject — a reflection of her ability and commitment.

She also holds a cherished family distinction: Kathryn was the first person to dive into the swimming pool we built at Becroft. It was a moment full of laughter and excitement, and one that remains a symbol of her fearless nature.

Kathryn later married her school sweetheart, Brendan. Together they established a pottery business, creating beautiful and distinctive ceramics. Through them, my family grew once more with the arrival of a grandson and granddaughter, Sam and Kim — gifts that continue to enrich my life.

They now live in the beautiful coastal community of Matakana, about fifty kilometres north of Auckland. With a yacht moored in the bay, they have embraced life on the water and become seafarers in their own right — finding the same freedom and rhythm at sea that has long shaped their lives on land.

Phillip

Phillip was still attending Rosmini College when we moved to Redvale, and like his brother Paul, he found his place on the rugby field. He earned a spot in the First XV and the nickname “The Animal,” with his distinctive Afro and fierce determination.

Saturdays were busy then — rugby for the boys, soccer for Julia and Kathryn — a full family rhythm that only later revealed its value.

Phillip went on to Auckland University, earning an engineering degree. Afterward, he travelled to the UK to reconnect with family but never returned to New Zealand. Opportunity found him in Europe, where in Munich he helped build a transport business delivering futons across the continent. It grew rapidly, then collapsed when the partners went broke — a loss that struck him deeply.

During those years, Phillip met Angela, a Swedish woman who became his wife. They settled in Sweden, raising Emma and twins Leanna and Kevin. Phillip bought a small farm and ran a riding school specialising in Icelandic horses — a life that suited him well, until his sudden collapse from a brain tumour, a story I tell later and one that remains etched deeply in my heart.

Carolyn

Carolyn’s laughter and curiosity were infectious. From childhood, she turned ordinary days into adventures. At eighteen, she travelled overseas alone, moving through many Asian countries, learning through experience rather than comfort.

Life at Redvale gave us freedoms suburbia never could. One day we discovered four kittens under the house. When the vet asked their names, I handed the phone to eight-year-old Carolyn. Without hesitation she said, “Ginger, Patch, Whitey, and Sooty.” That quiet confidence still makes me smile.

Carolyn later married Alex, a Bavarian, and together they opened and ran restaurants. They have two daughters, Brooke and Bianca, both training to become nurses. I am deeply proud of them, and of Carolyn, whose courage and warmth have always defined her.

A Family Effort

I remain deeply grateful for the part each of my children played in the early days of Magner Knitwear. Paul operated a knitting machine; Julia and Kathryn cut ribbons to make cords for the crawlers; Phillip made pom-poms and, every Friday after college, came to the factory to clean and sweep the knitting and sewing rooms.

These small contributions mattered, and they remain precious memories of a time when we worked together as a family.

Looking back, I see my children not only as individuals but as reflections of the life I have lived — the joys, the mistakes, the love, and the distance. Though bridges were never fully rebuilt, my affection for them has remained steadfast, untouched by time or circumstance.

In remembering them, I honour what they have given me: laughter, lessons, and love that continues to shape who I am.