A practical visionary

• Published date: 11 December 2021

Every glance through the cobweb-framed gazebo windows to the sunshine-baked front yard of Keith Dickson’s hill-suburb villa delivers a thrill of wonderment

Nearest the house stands a mini, single-rotor-blade helicopter, drawn by Dickson when he was about 6 years old and brought to life in all its spoof, steampunk glory almost seven decades later. Beyond that is a real one-man helicopter complete with rotor-blade-tip rockets powered by Nasa rocket fuel, hydrogen peroxide. On the far side of both is what looks like a super-sized trampoline but is in fact Dickson’s homemade, plastic-coated, figure-skating rink, now in a slight state of disrepair.

Shielding this fantastic scene from the public gaze on two sides is a tall hedge. One half is lean and straight, trimmed by the first hulking manifestation of a Dickson-designed hedge-cutting robot. The other half awaits attention from a smarter, scaled-down version of his gardening automaton.

Here inside the tin gazebo redolent of 1001 Arabian Nights, sitting on cushioned sheepskins and attended by web-veiled spiders, Dickson is telling tales and conjuring futuristic visions every bit as fascinating as the outdoors scene.

‘‘Ninety percent of my work was for insurance companies — ships, cars, all sorts of motor vehicles,’’ Dickson says of his engineering career, intensity conveyed more by the fixed gaze of blue eyes than tone of voice.

‘‘I did quite a few ships. I once saved the bacon of a 27,000-tonne log carrier in Nelson.’’

While not far off the coast, the housing for the vessel’s rudder mechanism had broken, forcing the crew to nurse the log carrier to the safety of the nearest port.

Several experts, including someone from Germany, were called in to advise a fix, but without success.

Eventually, someone mentioned Dickson’s name and he was given an urgent phone call.

He answered the call, flew to Nelson and fixed the break.

‘‘It was a funny thing, because I often wear kilts and skirts,’’ Dickson says.

‘‘I really like skirts for a variety of reasons, including that they’re more comfortable.

‘‘Anyway, I was in Invercargill when I got the call. And I was wearing a short black denim skirt, three inches above the knee.

‘‘I ended up wearing that all the way to Nelson. When they met me at the airport they didn’t think I was for real,’’ he concludes with a hearty laugh.

Anyone who knows him, however, would not have been the least surprised — by his attire nor his acumen.

Dickson comes from stock with deep colonial Otago roots. His maternal uncle was Esmond de Beer, grandson of the founder of...