My father, Roger Stanier, who has died aged 91, was an electrical engineer for the Post Office, a passionate gardener and an immensely knowledgeable railway enthusiast.

He was born in Birmingham, the youngest child of Bill, a silversmith, and Mabel (née Read), who had been a pupil-teacher, staying on after the usual leaving age to work with younger pupils, in Essex. Roger was educated at King Edward VI Camp Hill school for boys in Birmingham - but he was one of the generation of bright working-class students who went to grammar school with no prospect of going on to university. His career choice, in fact, was decreed by his parents. His brother, John, had already started to work for the Post Office's telephone operation, and Roger started work there as an apprentice electrical engineer.

His career progressed as he gained qualifications through day-release at technical college and "night school", but after he retired he had more time for his many interests, which centred around his home. He was forever building and tinkering, and especially gardening.

At one time he had four allotments, including an orchard and pond, and he was active in his local allotment association and the Birmingham and District Allotments Confederation. He won prizes for his fruit and vegetables, and worked as a judge for other shows. His last prize (for tomatoes) came when he was 89, and up to his death he was still reading catalogues and ordering seeds and plants - one of our last conversations was about the merits of grafted melons.

His other passion in life was trains. After taking early retirement, he would go on at least one rail journey a week, usually to the coast, where he would enjoy the view of the sea, eat a fish-and-chip lunch and then catch the train home. He particularly enjoyed train journeys in Switzerland: on one holiday together, we took a journey that involved 18 trains in one day. Roger's knowledge of Swiss rail timetables was encyclopaedic - and for each change, he was able to head straight to the platform where the next train was due. Once these holidays were beyond his strength, he would watch DVDs of journeys he knew well.

Roger was a shy man of immense charm: his life centred on his home, garden and family, and especially his wife, Maris. They met while working at a telephone exchange, where she was an operator; having noticed the good-looking young engineer, she found there were often faults in her telephone switchboard that needed his attention, and they married in November 1945, when she was 20 and he was 21.

He leaves Maris, his wife of 70 years; myself and my brother, Alan; six grandchildren and three great-grandchildren.