Tributes to Colin Wilcockson

We received a considerable number of tributes from alumni in memory of Colin Wilcockson. Unfortunately, the Editor of the Martlet was unable to include them all in this year's edition, but wanted to share this webpage so that 

I count being supervised and directed by Colin as one of the most entertaining and most valuable experiences of my life and it certainly helped to form me as a poet. Though he was the soul of kindness he was also swift to pounce on nonsense in a supervision or essay, but always with a twinkle. When one of us made the mistake of disparaging the “Ignorant Middle Ages’ in his presence, he fixed the culprit with his good eye and said sardonically ‘That’s the trouble with the Middle Ages isn’t it? You have to deal with thickies like Thomas Aquinas!’ No one made that mistake again!

Malcolm Guite (1977)

Colin was the first Pembroke Fellow I met - he interviewed me for my place in college back in 1981. It took the form of a stimulating conversation rather than Q&A. He didn't teach me, but his ever cheerful disposition and quiet scholarship somehow defined Pembroke for me. Colin last emailed me just a few months ago, encouraging me to continue my own writing, as I'd sent to him a note for the Martlet that my first book, GRACE, was about to be published. A lovely, thoughtful man, who will be much missed.

Mark Batey (1981)

More than thirty years after I left Cambridge I can still hear Colin's voice reciting Caedmon's poem as recounted by Bede. His deep love for and commitment to literature was matched by his care for his students. He was kind and sympathetic where needed - and a taskmaster when necessary too. I learned much from studying with Colin, not just about medieval literature but about life more broadly.

James Wood (1988)

Colin was my tutor when I studied Modern and Medieval Languages in my first year at Pembroke. His rooms were quirky, a little chaotic but like him, welcoming. I found Colin always kind, ready to listen and understanding. He without doubt found his place at Pembroke and flourished there, making his own very worthwhile contribution over many years. I would like to offer my condolences and thoughts to his family, friends and college associates.

Paul Cooper (1982)

I consider myself greatly privileged to have been taught by Colin, who was a wonderfully warm and gracious Director of Studies. His passion for Medieval literature and for the rhythms of language, as well as his twinkling humour and kindness, made learning with him a remarkable experience. He put each of us at our ease and amused and enlightened us regularly with anecdotes and insights.

I have clear memories of the (ordered?) chaos of his room on D staircase, where piles of papers would have to be shifted onto the floor to make space for a supervision, and where tea (if all was well) or sherry (if all was not) were generously offered. In a place that could have been intimidating, Colin made his students feel valued, comfortable and cared for, so that we were able to thrive. He will be sorely missed.

Sarah Simojoki (1994)

What a charming man Colin was - he persuaded me to apply to Pembroke over five glasses of sherry and a wideranging discourse.    I didn't regret it.   He was truly a polymath with extensive modern languages and a scholarship worn lightly but built on a lively and broad enthusiasm which could, with a twinkle in his good eye, tie Mozart's operas to Anglo Saxon etymology.    Supervisions with him were sparkling and often cheekily off syllabus, as they should be.  I had the pleasure of seeing him in 2022, after many years, when we viewed the Barrie Cooke/Ted Hughes archive - he still glowed with enthusiasm.  He will be remembered fondly and missed by a great many.

Peter Illingworth (1983)

Colin was the dearest man. Meeting him by sheer chance as I stumbled, lost, looking for an entirely different college, was what persuaded me to apply to Pembroke. It was his enthusiasm that persuaded me to specialise in Chaucer, and it is his voice I hear every time I spell the word supersede or quote Marlowe or so many other moments from my time at Cambridge. His bear-like hugs (occasionally mocked but always appreciated), his mischievous pleasure in a morsel of gossip or mildly naughty joke and his utterly childlike joie de vivre will never be forgotten. I remember the night he and Pam so politely dined in my room, seated around my desk, eating risotto as if it were the finest of high table fare.  Dear Colin. I loved you quite simply and truly. Thank you so much for all you did for me and all your students.

Helen Walton (1994)

I have fond memories of Dr Wilcockson pointing out all the rude bits in whichever poem we were reading and chuckling to himself as he did so. His sheer enjoyment of the subject was infectious.

Jenny Robbins (1993)

On paper (and there was much of it over 3 years) Colin was my Director of Studies. To me, he was the guiding light of patience and support that saw me through tough times after the unexpected and premature death of my Dad at the end of the first year. Success at the end of the three years was as much his achievement as mine. We always stayed in touch and met up when we could. He very much liked to involve pastries when we did. He tolerated my mischief, irresponsibility and laziness because (as he told me years later) I was sometimes quite good at my subject. I will remember his humour, kindness and incredible interest in people and their accents. I will remember fondly tutorials in D staircase, on his sofa, surrounded by his books and his bank statements. But most of all I will remember the permanent twinkle in his eye.

Pete Duff (1989)

Colin was a kind man, an attentive director of studies with eclectic tastes, and inspirational in passing on his enthusiasm for his particular subjects of interest.  His tutorials on Troilus and Criseyde, Boccacio and the Gawain poet were a highlight of my first year at Pembroke.

Simon Waldron (1979)

Colin Wilcockson was the jewel of my study at Pembroke. Yes, I loved books, reading and literature. But it was Colin, as my Director of Studies and Tutor, that turned my passion into a reverence for literature and art itself. And then there was Colin's dry wit... unforgettable. Thank you.

Divya Kohli (1993)

He was my tutor for English Literature for my first two years at Pembroke (although I am not sure he ever forgave me for switching to History of Art for my Part II!). I will always remember his boundless enthusiasm, particularly for subjects dear to his heart such as Anglo-Saxon literature, and of course, as for many others, my picture of him will always be of him playing bowls with great gusto on the College green!

Will Strafford (1982)

When I arrived with my luggage, Colin Wilcockson was the first person (except for Porters) I met in College. He whisked me away to his rooms for tea, told me about Everyone in College, and invited me to a Fellows drinks, all in two hours. Over the years I admired his rare ability to be amiable and scholarly at the same time. A true gentleman.

Dr Christine Hansen (1990)

Colin was the reason that I came to Pembroke. I visited in the summer of 1989, having missed the College open days, and he very kindly spent a couple of hours showing me round the college and chatting about books. He reassured me that a girl like me (from a non-fee paying school in Liverpool) could very much have a part to play in a college like Pembroke and encouraged by him, I applied and was offered a place the following year. His warmth, kindness, and passion for the poetry and beauty of Middle English, particularly Chaucer, guided my studies hugely. I took all the possible options where I would be supervised by him for my finals, and still enjoy dipping into Chaucer for fun.

He didn't just help students from English, he also provided pastoral care informally for a huge number of people who needed help or just a cup of tea and a kind word. I was delighted when my own son (Queens’ 2017) was able to meet up with him, and they had the same type of wide-ranging, thoughtful, funny, conversation as I had been enjoying with Colin for the past several decades. Colin will be much missed, by the Pembroke community at large, and several decades of English students. 

Hester Macdonald (1991)

Where, O death, is your victory? Where, O death, is your sting?

Colin or Professor as we fondly called him was not only a friend but an integral part of the Bentum-Williams family. Our parents, ourselves and our children all knew Colin. Those who did not get the chance to see him heard stories of his kindness and the support he and Pam gave to us during our time studying in Cambridge.

Colin and Pam opened up their home to us and his study/room in Pembroke was our haven. Amidst the papers and books, which we teased him were always “all over the place” and to which he retorted he could find whatever he was looking for, we would sit, chat, laugh and have tea and biscuits.

He was never too busy to make time for us. We would walk in unannounced and never did it cross our minds to make an appointment to see Colin. Such was the kindness and love that Colin had and shared with us.

Colin, your Ghanaian family will miss you! We are saddened by your passing. You did tell us you were not doing well but we hoped you would improve. 

May your rest peacefully in the bosom of the Lord.

Barbara Bentum-Williams Dotse (1986)

The word 'kind' was never more appropriate than for Colin Wilcockson, my supervisor in Medieval Studies: 'long-suffering' being the other epithet that comes to mind.  I and my contemporaries, Simon Bright, Simon Boswell, the late Mike Saxby and others, were a respectful, but mercurial bunch, and Colin patiently played the hand that was dealt him.

Colin gave me my love of Troilus and Criseyde and Sir Gawain and the Green Knight, and forgave my inability to come to terms with Piers Ploughman, Pearl and other texts he revered.  He knew I was neither a scholar nor a medievalist.  In doing so, unlike some other supervisors at the time, he imbued confidence rather than eroded it.  I have always felt a responsibility to Colin in my own writing career.

I owe him a great deal, and years later, when I reconnected with the College, it was a pleasure to get to know him better as a mature adult and no longer the immature student I had been.  He was a modest man, quietly sure of himself and a fine poet.  I much enjoyed contributing to The Martlet and I like to think it gave him pleasure.  He loved the College, and Pembroke was fortunate to have him.  I hope he is commemorated appropriately and will be happy to contribute to any endowment in his name.

Jonathan Mantle (1972)

Our paths crossed when as a final-year student at the English Department of the University of Ghana, Colin assessed my dissertation as the external examiner. Impressed with my paper, Colin decided to help me gain admission to Pembroke College to further my education. That’s how our relationship began. This is important to me because my enrollment at Cambridge not only expanded my horizons academically but also opened doors that would otherwise be closed to me, an economically challenged young woman. However, this speaks to Colin’s heart and spirit of identifying talent and supporting them in ways that could only make them thrive. What a loss Colin’s passing is! I called Colin when I learned that he wasn’t well. We spoke. He didn’t remember me immediately, but I recall he was in high spirits that day. I couldn’t call again because I really didn’t know what to say. I should have called again if only to say “Thank you, Colin, for your kindness and belief in me”. May his soul rest in peace.

Shola Safo-Duodu (1986)

Colin Wilcockson played a pivotal role in countless young people’s lives and yet somehow, he always managed to find time to focus on students as individuals. He was a friendly, approachable presence at Pembroke, someone we all felt we could turn to for advice and encouragement. In fact, his nickname when I was a student was Uncle Colin.

Colin really knew his subject too. He felt the power of words deeply and was especially sensitive to the sound of language. It was Colin who opened my ears to the musicality of poetry, its rhythms and cadences, and to the importance of choosing words which not only convey the right meaning but also sound right. There was nobody more alive to language’s subtlety and subtext and I shall miss very much our chats about all things literary, which could range from Welsh poetry to Dante’s Divine Comedy and the novels of Zola.

He will be sorely missed, both by his students and the wider college community.

Emma Johnson (1985)

I really liked Colin and very much valued and enjoyed his mentorship and teaching during my time as an English Lit undergraduate. He was erudite, compassionate, humorous, insightful and much more besides - including being forgiving of a prospective student’s ignorance. During my admission interview Colin asked me what year Shakespeare had been born which completely stumped me. I suspect my answer was out by several decades but Colin was kind enough to overlook the lamentable knowledge gap and let me in anyway.

Philip Greenacre (1980)

I first met Colin Wilcockson in 1981 when I was a nervous, hapless, beardless first-year English undergraduate and Colin was my director of studies. At our very first meeting he told me briskly that I was to go away and write an essay considering the question of whether the palinode had been inartistically tacked on to the end of Chaucer's Troilus and Criseyde. I nodded dumbly and when I got back to my own room, I tremblingly looked up palinode in my Oxford Companion To English Literature and yelped with horror to find that it was a character in Spenser's The Shepheardes Calender. Every time I met Colin, from that day until our last meeting a few years ago, I repeated this story of my gibbering panic and he was hugely amused.

As a student, I would see Colin for supervisions in his beautiful rooms on D staircase with their view over Library Lawn, and it was there that he taught us the medieval paper with essays on Chaucer and Langland, also Shakespeare and the Part II Tragedy paper. He was a lovely man: endlessly patient and encouraging, always ready to applaud a good insight and a well-turned argument, with some tactful dissent where he felt you were going wrong. This was a time when many English dons seemed to be divas and narcissists, playing to some imagined media gallery. It was precisely what we students didn't need. What we needed was what Colin gave us: outstanding teaching, based on a passion for literature. He was also fond of some mischief, sometimes telling us that if ever a trunk of Shakespeare's private papers was found he would be first on the scene to burn it. He would then smile indulgently at our shrill indignation. He was a wonderful teacher and scholar.

Dr Peter Bradshaw (1981)

I studied English in the first year of women at Pembroke. From our first meeting, I appreciated Colin's warmth and openness, particularly to those of us entering this new and traditionally male world: with Colin, I always felt welcome and I always felt equal.

Our first meeting was at interview. Colin fired out single words from King Lear - Butterfly! - expecting me to recognise the reference and complete the quote. Half way through the interview he glanced at the time, apologised, and ran out to post a letter, leaving me sitting alone at his desk. Nervous as I was, I understood that even at interview this would be a relationship of trust, even-handedness, and informality - not the pupil-teacher hierarchy I'd learned at school. In time, I also came to recognise his passion for his subjects: it's a testament to Colin that I wrote dissertations on both Piers Plowman and David Jones!

Colin was generous and hospitable and seemed genuinely to care about us all. I'm sure he will be greatly missed.

Kate Beales (1984)

In August 1981, I was dismayed to discover I had been given a B1 in my English A-Level. Was there now any point in applying to Cambridge? I turned resignedly up for interviews anyway, and met Colin in his rather fabulous study. He disposed of any concerns about my grade instantly.

“So you got a 1 but a B.” Colin looked benignly bewildered (he had a kind face). “What do you think happened there?”

“I gather the general exam board feedback was that candidates’ answers to some questions were a bit…samey.”

“But that could be because of the questions set,” he ruminated, puzzled - hearteningly so, to me. “There could be only so many ways to answer. Never mind.” He leaned forward. “You know,” he went on as though letting me into a secret, “mistakes are made. That’s exactly why we have the CCE.”

Colin sat back, beaming. “So - what are you reading at the moment?” And thus we moved on to more interesting subjects.

Phil Redman (1982)

About fifty years ago, when I was a student of Colin’s, I went to a supervision without the essay on Dr Faustus that he was expecting, and offered him instead a sonnet I had written on the same subject. He accepted it, read it carefully, was kind enough to find things in it to praise and, skilful poet that he was, four-time winner of the Seatonian Prize, to suggest ways in which it might be improved. He was a lovely man. When my children were old enough to appreciate it, I took them to Pembroke to meet Colin, and he spoke for them the opening lines of the Canterbury Tales they had so often heard mangled by their father’s tongue.

Indra Sinha (1970)

I first met Colin during my sixth form, on a scary visit to ‘see’ Cambridge. When we met again at my interview several months later, he pretended to remember me, though this flattery was somewhat undermined by his frantic search for my name among the clutter of forms piled on and around his desk. (He was sitting on my application.) This chaotic air was disarming and masked a perceptive understanding, acerbic (though never cruel) wit and kindness that went far beyond his official role. His Puckish enthusiasm once led us on a high-speed trip from Pembroke to visit a church in Hertfordshire which featured medieval graffiti about the bubonic plague. As Colin zoomed along, I asked why the car kept bleeping. It was a speed limiter, he said, but the quicker we got there, the quicker it would stop!

After living in Brecon during the war, Colin loved Wales and nagged me constantly to take Welsh lessons. He signed off in all our correspondence with ‘cariad mawr’ which I reciprocated. I will miss him. Gorffwys mewn heddwch, Colin.

Rebecca Lloyd James (1986)

Chatting with Colin was something quite special, as he had the wonderful gift of being able share his knowledge without it ever being a chore for the listener or for him.   It is not over stating things to say that he inspired me to write and to love our language.   Learning about the history of English and how it has developed provided an invaluable platform and structure for my use of it in the construction of the narratives I rely upon to help others.    I will miss his infectious smile and obvious joy in what he did. Our world is a little poorer for his passing. Rest in peace Colin.

Jeff Patmore

Colin supervised my second year dissertation on David Jones, which was an amazing experience. He saw everything under the light both of his extremely high standards and his personal contact with Jones - something as brilliant as it was intimidating. He had also seen every possible undergrad crisis before, which made him wholly unflappable. During an ill-advised all-nighter before a 10 a.m. supervision, I took a sleep-deprived break to cook a snack, and sliced the tip of my thumb clean off with a chef's knife. Handed in my printed draft at 6 before before returning to my room to snatch a few hours sleep. Having overslept, I arrived at our session late, unshowered, dishevelled, and with a wad of blood-soaked toilet paper attached to my thumb with an elastic band. Colin just said, 'Well, that explains the bloodstains then,' before settling down to work without batting an eyelid. He will be much missed.

Dr Tim Smith-Laing (2004)

Colin Wilcockson was my medieval literature tutor in 2012 when I was an exchange student with Pembroke's International Programmes. When I returned to Cambridge for my MPhil, we met regularly at The Anchor to discuss some of our favourite things: Shakespeare, creative writing, and the difficulties and joys of crafting villanelles. Colin could recite entire passages from Chaucer or scenes from Shakespeare, and I fondly remember him reciting Benedick and Beatrice from Much Ado About Nothing. Colin wrote me a letter of recommendation that secured me a place as a PhD student at the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill. I am so thankful to have known him, and he will always be a dear teacher and friend.

Margaret Maurer (2011)

I remember reading a poem by Colin which began 'With strenuous bonhomie ...' yet Colin's own bonhomie always seemed effortless. He was a warm, understanding and charming man who cared greatly about his students and continued to do so long after they graduated. His poems at the Annual English dinner incorporating everyone's surname were a particular highlight, although it did occasionally lead me to wonder if having a surname like Greenwood helped improve my admission chances! RIP Colin. And thanks.

Matthew Greenwood (1992)

This is the loss of a guiding star.

I first met Colin Wilcockson during my interviews for Pembroke, in 1999, when he was on the cusp of stepping down as Fellow. After unsettling meetings with other brilliant academics, where I'd felt flummoxed, assessed, inadequate, fumbling my way into ever deeper holes, Colin and I sat down and, it seemed to me, simply talked. We found a mutual love for words, wondering about the etymology of ‘hinny’ ­– indeed, wandering about the etymology – and its use as a term of endearment in my hometown. I have always ­– rightly, wrongly, naively – attributed my offer of a place at Pembroke to him, his support.

I went on to admire and enjoy being tutored by, working with, learning from all the Fellows I had the pleasure, privilege and trepidation of meeting. But, it was always with relief and delight that I encountered Colin’s kindness and curiosity. His encouragement then and the memory of it since have sustained me through many endeavours. I feel the dimming of this, now. My heart goes out to his family.

Sophie Scott (2000)

I will always remember Colin for the warmth of his smile and his ability to spot a frightened student.  The two qualities are not so separate: Colin held out a hand to me when I felt I didn't belong.  He did it with humour, interest and, above all, kindness.  He made me feel like a friend.

And that's what we became in the years after I left Cambridge and he retired.  We kept up with each other’s news, swapped book recommendations and met for coffee or dinner.  I loved him and – probably because some part of me remained that intimidated student – wanted him to feel proud of me.  When I wrote my first novel, his teaching room in D staircase featured as a safe and happy place of learning.  When I received my presentation copies, it was to him I sent the first one.   

Throughout my adult life Colin has always been there.  It’s hard to comprehend he’s gone.  And sad.  I shall miss him immensely.

Elisa Lodato (1998)

Colin epitomized what it meant to be a teacher.  Of course, he taught me many things about Anglo-Saxon literature during our supervisions.  But, what I cherish most, is the wisdom he gently imparted on the fundamental topics that define us as humans—friendship, mortality, compassion, time, and more.  He once told me of literary analysis, “You have to feel it in your heart before you can ever think it in your head”.  It’s some of the best advice I ever received, for academia and for life.  Reading the news of his passing saddened me greatly, but also reminded me of how thankful I am to have known Colin.  I, along with so many other former students, will carry his legacy with us forever.

Graham Rogers (2009)

Studying at Pembroke 1994-97, I was one of many immensely fortunate students to have Colin as our Director of Studies. An extraordinarily generous teacher, Colin was an inspiring advocate for medieval literature and the powerful subtleties of language, such as the unmistakable emotional significance of a shift between you/thee. He encouraged us to follow our passions, turning up with original illustrated letters from the poet David Jones when I expressed an interest in writing a Part I dissertation on him, and was so supportive of my journey into Art History. But even more profoundly, Colin taught me how to teach. It’s easy to imagine myself back in the turret room on D staircase, sinking into the sagging golden sofas, surrounded by precariously piled books and journals, with Colin making us smile by telling us we were all “geniuses”.  Of course, we knew that we weren’t, but the wisdom embodied in that encouragement and kindness was profound, and I hope it is a quality that I now pass on to my own students and others around me.

Dr Lois Oliver (1994)

I first met Colin in spring 1991. He was a visiting scholar at the University of Cologne and gave a seminar on Geoffrey Chaucer—which was my first encounter with Middle English. Colin was really enthusiastic and inspired students to fall in love with medieval texts as well. And he was a people person. He took interest not only in his students' academic progress, but also in their well-being; he was always able to find a minute to chat and find out how we were getting along with our papers. For more than a decade, he returned regularly to the University of Cologne to lecture and keep in touch with all his German friends.

As a scholar and teacher, Colin was a true role model—he will always be in our hearts.

Christina Kupetz (1992)

To a verray parfit gentil knight: we can’t imagine Pembroke without you. Your office was a refuge for nervous young students. You fortified us with your kindness, good cheer and sherry. You passed on your passion for medieval literature, which you infused with your appreciation for life itself.  When we were reading literature that was five hundred years old, you made it feel present. You connected with us as people, never talking down to us and always encouraging us with your good humour and humanity. We stayed in touch and you remained in our thoughts over many decades in a way that is rare. We will miss our ‘pearl of old’. Ours be the travailles, but thine be the glory.

Jenny Wilson (1986)  & Dr Jo Howard (1986)

As a state-school student who’d never met anyone who’d gone to Oxbridge, I was wildly intimidated by the idea of Cambridge University and pretty convinced it wasn’t going to be a place where I’d fit in. The open day at Pembroke had already started to thaw me out a little but what really sealed the deal and made me think I couldn’t be happy anywhere else was (of course) the appearance of one Colin Wilcockson. Instantly warm, instantly welcoming, he dissolved any misgivings I had within minutes – and continued to be a reassuring presence throughout my years at college and beyond. He wore his considerable learning lightly and always looked to draw his students in, with the result that we came to love his favourite works of literature as fiercely as he did. (The sherry helped too.) With a mischievous glint in his eye and some affectionate joke always ready to spill forth in that lovely gentle voice, he was a wonderful hug of a man. I feel very lucky that our time at Pembroke coincided.

Amanda Canning (1991)

When I was a child, I was a writer. I filled my free time with composing poems, short stories, riddles, and unfinished novels. By the time I met Colin in the spring of 2011, however, I hadn't written anything outside schoolwork in years. Colin understood that it was an issue of confidence. When you spend your days studying the great minds of English literature, how can you dare pick up a pen? But Colin had the remedy: I still repeat his tongue-in-cheek mantra, "I'm a bit of a genius," before writing any song lyric or line of prose. I will miss him dearly, and I hope that I can continue to immortalize him by telling everyone I know about his story about mistaking Glaswegians for Germans, how he got me to drink coffee for the first (and only) time, and his infectious love of all stages of the English language.

Olivia Harding (2010)

Colin was indeed a kind person and very generous with his time and commitment to helping others. Always approachable, with a talent for putting people at their ease,  I found him to be a great listener, attuned and empathetic. As my supervisor he introduced me to wonderful works of literature such as Sir Gawain and the Green Knight and Malory’s Le Morte D’Arthur and for this I am deeply grateful. However it is his personal qualities of warmth and compassion that stand out and how he provided an anchoring point throughout my time at Pembroke as I navigated challenges of studies and life. Thank you Colin.

Kate Taylor (née Hillman) (1990)

When I arrived at Pembroke from Calcutta, quite fresh off my Air India flight, little did I expect the flood of warmth and welcome that would greet me in the form of Colin Wilcockson. Colin was our academic supervisor. But more importantly, he was the leader of our merry little tribe. Colin called us his honeybees – our job was to go out and gather and disseminate knowledge amongst our Eng. Lit. Tripos band. And to win as a team. And win we did, thanks to Colin’s leadership – I believe our cohort earned a record number of Firsts in English that year. From poetry reading nights in the Thomas Gray Room to Pooh Sticks tournaments off a bridge on the Cam, Colin was always there for us, in our fullest experience of College life. I cannot imagine our time at Pembroke without Colin Wilcockson. Thanks to Colin, et in Arcadia ego.

Dr Arnie Guha (1994)

As Admissions Tutor back in the 80’s, Colin was the very first contact many of us had with Pembroke. He was quite perfect for this role. With his engaging smile & spontaneous wit he embodied the warm, friendly & unpretentious character of the College and made any candidate’s decision to join this special community a very easy one.  Over the course of 50 years Colin left an indelible imprint on so many aspects of College life. Personally, I was always very grateful for his unwavering support for music at a time when the College was better known for rowing & rugby.

John Davison (1982)

Colin was very generous to me as an ASNaC student at Pembroke, 1990–93, and ever since. Supervisions often included trying to find our essays under the piles of paper in his office(!), and making tea, but Colin was a very acute reader of literature, and of student work too. His love of Chaucer and Shakespeare, of Malory and Langland, really shone through. He was warm and supportive, and I’ll always be grateful to him for offering me my first teaching experience as a graduate student. Now that I teach medieval English, I especially appreciate Colin’s way of taking students’ ideas seriously and starting from where they are. I’ll always remember our conversations about music, David Jones, Essex, caravanning, and lots of different books. It was a pleasure to meet Pam too: condolences and love to the whole family. Chaucer says of his Clerk of Oxenforde ‘gladly wolde he lerne and gladly teche’: he might almost have had Colin in mind.

Dr Nicholas Perkins (1990)

We have many wonderful memories of Colin – thoughts of Pembroke immediately evoke his cheery, bustling presence, dashing across Old Court or chatting in the gardens. Colin’s study became one of the happiest places in Pembroke; I treasure memories of gossipy chats by the fire, drinking tea from his pale green cups and eating buns that he’d run out to get from Fitzbillies.      We were hugely touched by Colin coming up to Liverpool to attend our wedding in December 1987. He ended up staying in my parents’ little house, along with a crowd of other guests washed up on every bit of sofa and floor space. Colin got my box room though, and Mum remembers him standing in the kitchen, making endless rounds of toast for the masses.     Colin’s warmth and infectious passion for life were things that we’ll always remember with affection and gratitude. He exuded the sense that learning and knowledge were best shared generously, often with that conspiratorial lean towards you, and a twinkle.

Dr Jane Moore (1984) & Stuart Moore (1984)

I’ve always thought that I owe my time at Cambridge entirely to Colin.  As part of the first cohort of women arriving in Pembroke in 1984, all of us were admitted by Colin as Admissions Tutor and I think we were picked because he saw in us a willingness to be pioneers and get involved in the full range of college life. He encouraged us to join in, which suited me as I was easily distracted from my books by sport and partying. He took an interest in our extra-curricular lives, our little triumphs on the river or elsewhere; was sympathetic to our hangovers; invested in our friendships and consoled us in our heartbreaks. As I read English, he was also my Director of Studies and from the very first supervision - a terrifying rite of passage - he was kind and welcoming, gently coaxing an opinion, maybe occasionally an original thought, out of us as he in return inspired us with his infectious love for Chaucer. I’m forever indebted that he allowed me in, to enjoy three such happy and privileged years.

Joanna Prior (1984)

Colin was a wonderful man: brilliant, funny and very kind. He supervised me in my first year and we enjoyed many conversations about Belfast, where I grew up and where he taught for a while. I’ll always remember him giving a very moving reading from Troilus and Criseyde one wintry afternoon in the Yamada Room, as well as a hilarious story he once told me about being pursued around the University Library by an eccentric lady. After I graduated, he wrote me numerous references. I’m sure he had much better things to do with his time but he was unfailingly generous and prompt in responding to any requests and I really appreciated it. I know he’ll be greatly missed

Lydia Cameron (2002)

Colin was a lively reminder to me that literature is more alive when shared in the air. In mediaeval times, one read aloud even when alone. From the start, Colin's supervisions involved this airing of the text. His and our reading aloud created a sense of occasion: the learning process became action. I think that by sharing, not teaching, he taught more.

I will always be grateful for our evenings of poetry, wine, cheese and fruit in the Christopher Smart Room. We knew these evenings were special. I believe that Colin, Howard, Mark and Ato engendered this senses that we were English students second, and friends first. I was lucky to stay on for a fourth year, and I experienced a similar camaraderie in the year-group below. Our knowing that 'English at Pembroke' was unique was inspired again and again by Colin's genial kindness. The tripos results spoke for themselves: Pembroke was often the highest or next in line in the university rankings.

Colin also had a useful sofa... If you reached your hand down into the seat-well, beneath the cushions, you could pull out nice pens, coins... even a silver ring. Just as he asked you a tricky question, you could produce one of these to divert the conversation. Phew...!

Bill Carslake (1994)

Colin’s warm heart and sensitivity were exceptional.  As my director of studies at Pembroke, where I was an English student, he gave of his time generously – sharing his passion for his subject, providing bounteous encouragement when things were going well, and providing support at difficult times too.  I learned a great deal from him, and I will always owe him a debt of gratitude. A decade or so after I graduated, my husband and I learned that we had Colin in common:  he had taught my husband Campbell College — my husband has many fond memories of Colin from that time.  That ability to be such a gracious and, when necessary, critical but always fair-minded tutor/teacher/friend! Whenever I have visited Pembroke in the years since then, it has been such a delight to catch up with Colin for a chat.  We will miss him.

Natalina Bertoli (1985)

As a first-year undergraduate, and on a particularly dreary day, I was stranded outside the library having left my student card inside. Colin noticed me standing in the rain and kindly came to my rescue, ushering me into the library. We had not spoken before but he noticed that I was holding The Riverside Chaucer. Of course, Colin was one of the editors of this renowned collection, and he stood and spoke to me about his experiences of editing the volume. I doubt that Colin would have remembered helping me that day but it has stayed with me for over a decade. He was a very kind man and clearly held a passion for his subject and teaching others.

Rhian Lewis (2009)

When arriving at Pembroke for interview in 1992, anxious and bewildered, I came across a man in the tiny carpark struggling with the barrier. We managed to release its grasp together. Who could possibly have been waiting to interrogate me later in his large and sombre study but the very same man. My surname back then was 'Schmitt' and this second meeting opened with him greeting me in German. I misunderstood the ruse to be a typical Oxbridge googly and just about managed to side-step the surprise (I don't speak a word of German). Little did I know that Colin had strong roots in the language and had hoped simply to put me at ease. It was the beginning of a 30-year friendship.

 A font of all knowledge, with lilting reading voice, complicit in mischievous confidences: this was an establishment figure who advised like a father, inspired like a muse, nurtured like a friend. Most of all I will remember that his exceptional intellect was coupled with deep human warmth, as reflected in his life-long study of wise but ordinary folk in old tales.

Emily Smith (née Schmitt) (1993)

Colin juxtaposed an avuncular disposition with an impish sense of humour. Doubtless along with many others, I have fond memories of sitting in his study, cup of Earl Grey in hand, while he waxed lyrical about Malory’s Morte d’Arthur. At the same time, I will never forget his justifiable insistence that my co-supervisee and I did not return until we had read all three of the History plays we had been set to read following a humiliating quiz in which we claimed knowledge of a host of non-existent characters that Colin had made up on the spot! But my favourite memories of Colin involve the wonderful evenings he hosted in The Thomas Gray room in which we shared readings of our favourite poets for no reason other than the joy of celebrating a communal love of literature. These are memories I shall cherish always and I am profoundly grateful to Colin for helping to create them.

Tom Smith (1995)

Generations of English students at Pembroke I am sure will do a far more eloquent job than I at remembering Colin - he was simply and genuinely one of the kindest, wisest and most humane people I have known and I could never really thank him enough for giving me the opportunity to study at Pembroke and make friendships that will last me all my life.

Paul Mansour (1994)

I will always be grateful to Colin for not making me feel stupid when I had to confess I did not know what the word ‘xenophobic’ meant at my interview.  Ever generous, twinkly and kind, I will remember Colin with great affection and count myself extremely lucky to have had him as a Director of Studies.  He would be pleased to know that I have, finally, discovered the joy of sherry!  What a delightful man he was.  He will be greatly missed by many, I’m sure.

Anna Foxell (1986)

I first met Colin in the summer semester 1992 at Cologne University.

In the course catalogue I had read that someone called C G Wilcockson was giving a seminar on Chaucer’s Canterbury Tales. Middle English literature was completely new to me, so I decided to give it a try.

Colin’s way of teaching was unique and fascinating. A combination of profound knowledge and enchanting humour, of sharp-witted comments and hilarious anecdotes. My heart and mind were captured immediately.

One day we were chatting along at the cafeteria, when all of a sudden my hay fever broke out. Hysterically, I started to search my bags for a handkerchief. But Colin intervened, and, in a truly chivalrous act, handed me his.

After this utterly embarrassing incident, I felt enormously flattered when Colin suggested I should apply for an Erasmus scholarship and come to Pembroke as an exchange student. I did so in 1993, and I enjoyed every single day. Above all, because my tutor was someone called C.G. Wilcockson.
We kept in touch over the years and I will miss him dearly.

Dr Marion Korzilius (1993)

Colin interviewed me as a 16-year-old in 1987. Shaking my hand at the end of the interview, he said he was glad I knew my Donne - he had asked me to recite a poem I had learned for a Lamda exam. Over the next three years, I looked forward to our weekly supervisions and the strong tea he made by squeezing out the teabag against the side of the small white cup, although I think he was (understandably) bored by my essays, and often listened to me read only the first couple of paragraphs, before changing the subject to something more lively and current. As preparation for studying Troilus and Criseyde he told us to fall in love. He was a wonderful scholar of medieval literature, a true Pembroke man and a kind and humorous teacher. I’ve used his facing-page translation of Chaucer’s Canterbury Tales many times teaching A-level English. I will miss our correspondence and his often-repeated invitation to dine at Pembroke.

Emily Pomeroy (1989)

In some ways, Colin conformed – perhaps self-consciously played up to - the image of the scatty Cambridge don. His office was always crammed full of piles of stacked papers, teetering textual towers of Pisa. He had the unworldly aura of someone who was far more interested in the minutiae of Chaucerian scholarship than the politics of the English Faculty. His manner was warm and avuncular; his voice was soothing and mellifluous. Sipping Lapsang Souchong and sinking into one of his luxurious armchairs, it was easy to be lulled, in his tutorials, into a false sense of security. But then, kindly and quietly, he would ask a penetrating question – one that might make you spill your cup of tea if you weren’t careful. Colin genuinely cared about his students: about their education but also their well-being. He was always supportive but never condescending; he took tremendous pride in our achievements, and we took pleasure in his pride. Some of my fondest memories of my time at Pembroke I owe to Colin, in one way or another. We will miss him.

Professor David Brauner (1987)

As I walked into Colin's room for my interview when applying to Pembroke the first question I heard on closing the door behind me was "Do you know Mozart's clarinet concerto?". I panicked, wondering whether to tell him now that I think I'm in the wrong room. Then came the second question "At what time of his life do you think he wrote it?". Thankfully the third question moved in the significance of a visual symbol in The Mayor of Casterbridge.

I owe Colin a huge debt of gratitude as he helped us continuously to see things in a different way, to enjoy the connections between things, and to revel in the diversity of life itself.

Colin's sense of humour was what made him so accessible and memorable. I remember a tutorial being interrupted by a student popping in saying "Colin, I hear you're interviewing, could you remember that the college orchestra needs a violinist please?" to which he said, "Ah yes, let me write that down"!

Remembering the many times we met after graduating and your unending interest, compassion, and positivity Colin, you'll be dearly missed by my family and no doubt everyone else who had the privilege to know you.

John Gwynn (1979)

For Uncle Colin Wilcockson

I called him Uncle Colin because that is exactly how it felt to me. He was my father’s brother from another mother.

Not only was Uncle Colin responsible for my coming to Pembroke College to do my PhD, he also ushered me into one of the four major intellectual paradigms with which I have organized my scholarship since then. Early on my return as a  Fellow to the College from a short stint at Oxford, he called me into his office and asked if I would mind to co-teach the Tragedy paper with him. My enthusiastic yes was said with more ignorance than anticipation, and it didn’t take long for me to realize what a superhuman feat it was to remain barely five pages ahead of my students.  But after a decade teaching the Tragedy paper (he abandoned me to it after a couple of years), it became such a core part of my thinking that almost everything I have published since has been tinctured by it.

But to think of Uncle Colin is also to have to think in superlatives: he was the most generous, the kindest, and the funniest and most self-deprecating man you could ever think of.  His life exemplified a principle I first encountered in Aristotle’s /The Nicomachean Ethics/. Uncle Colin was one invested with what the ancient philosopher describes as /eudaimonia/, which is translated variously into English as virtuous, living well, and flourishing. But for Uncle Colin, being virtuous was a principle of action and not just of sentiment. He practiced an ethics of compassion and care that extended to everyone, irrespective of gender, race, or sexual or religious orientation.

And so, I will remember Uncle Colin as one who had not a jot or a tittle (words that would meet his approval) of malice in his everlasting soul. If we can imagine that a better life lies just beyond the boundary, it was surely made for him.

May He Rest in Perfect Peace.

Professor Ato Quayson (1991)