Andy Robinson is a great scowler. He is a magnificent growler. And when it comes to ferocious intensity and barking out commands at a hulking pack of forwards, no one in rugby is quite as compelling as England's new head coach. Clive Woodward, his predecessor, always cut a contrasting figure. During his near seven years in the role Woodward proved himself expert in schmoozing and delegating, in applying his business strategies to professional sport and dazzling the press with some grand and witty vision he had fused after studying the Denver Broncos and a corporate powerhouse.

But on a cold Wednesday morning Woodward would adjust the jaunty jib of his cap and retreat to the sidelines while Robinson, his assistant but the real coach in their World Cup-winning partnership, took charge of another brutal training session. With steam rising from his brooding team, as the real work of a Test week was done on a muddy pitch, Robinson would be in his dark and snarling element.

Even in a more genteel setting, wearing a smart suit, Robinson is a bit of a frightener. He is one of those rare men who silently persuades you to draw up a list of foolishly provocative or personal questions which are either best avoided or handled with the deft caution of a sweaty bomb-disposal expert. And whatever you do, a friend warns just before I go nose-to-battered-nose with Robinson, don't ever call him Andrew. He might still grudgingly allow his mum to use the polite full name she chose for him 40 years ago, but Robinson looks like a man who could take your head off if you let slip a cheery "Morning, Andrew ... "

And here he comes, Mr Robinson himself, a former maths and PE teacher, a rugged England international and the son of a policeman. He walks with the steely intent of a man who can spot a shirker and a wastrel, or an ill-disciplined and wishy-washy Guardian reader, a mile off. I'm about to call him "sir" and offer grovelling apologies for the fact that I haven't polished my shoes for months when I suddenly realise that Robinson is beaming, offering his hand and saying "Good to see you ... how are you?"

For a rugby bruiser who is notoriously sceptical of press conferences or time-wasting interviews, Robinson appears strangely amiable in conversation. It helps that we're less than two weeks into his new regime but Robinson is either one hell of an actor or he really is determined to, as he promises, "enjoy every single moment and every single aspect of the job".

I like him straightaway and after 10 minutes I already know more about Robinson than I ever did about Woodward - despite hours of past interviews with the more elusive Sir Clive. Before reaching the unexpectedly affecting backdrop to his uncompromising character, Robinson deals swiftly with an inevitable comparison. "There's obviously going to be a different dynamic now that Clive's gone and I'm head coach. I'm not going to make wholesale changes for the sake of it but there will be clear differences in the way I deal with players and work with the directors of club rugby. I'm going to be upfront with people. I'm not saying Clive did it wrong but ... "

Robinson flashes a diplomatic grin. Memories of the lack of communication between Woodward and his coaching contemporaries at club level, epitomised by his sniping battle with Wasps' Warren Gatland and Bath's John Connolly, are still raw. Robinson will also not resort to email to tell a player he's been dropped. He will deliver the bad news in person. "Let's just say there's more than one way to skin a cat. I'm not Clive - and I'm not going to impersonate him. I'm going to do it my way. I'm going to stamp my personality on this job."

The essence of that personality was forged, Robinson reveals, by his father in Somerset. It is not a subject of which he speaks often in public and so, mindful of his deadly reputation, I initially tread warily. Yet Robinson, with stark candour, tells me about his dad - who played cricket and rugby for the county.

"I think about him every day - as I do of my mum. But my father was my biggest inspiration - both in sport and instilling the real work ethic and discipline you need to achieve anything in life. I learnt that by watching the way he conducted himself. He was a good sportsman, but a great coach. He actually coached Somerset and it was then, in his first year there, that the illness struck him down. That was the end of his coaching. He was a very active person and so that was the hardest part for him."

Ray Robinson was diagnosed with multiple sclerosis and for more than 20 years, blind and in a wheelchair, he endured the ravages of a terrible disease. "I was 13 when it started. And I was immediately struck by the way my father took on the challenge of disability. He was so strong that ... well ... I never saw him as disabled. He was just my father. And you have to be a great person to retain that same character. Those qualities taught me a lot - and maybe they're inherent in me too."

Next month, three years will have passed since his father's death. Robinson continues to draw strength from a past which he makes sound more singular than painful. "My father really enjoyed his life and he inspired me to live each day to the full. You have to enjoy everything you do. Sometimes people say I don't smile enough but that doesn't mean I don't really love my work. That's something he taught me.

"Even though he went blind early on in the illness he didn't turn it into a big hardship. He was completely blind when I made my England debut in 1989. So you could say that he never saw me play for England but he was still there. He came to the ground and the game was read to him. It was as if he was seeing me with his own eyes."

When I linger over that poignant image Robinson nods and says one quiet word: "Yeah ..."

He is more interested in the way an enduring lesson of his life continues to shape him as a man and a coach. "There have been a few challenges for me coming up and I didn't always know how I was going to handle them. But I managed. And I know there's going to be some very difficult challenges ahead but I'll handle them by sticking to my values and beliefs with purpose. I'm going to front up - and hopefully in an inspirational way. That's what I learnt every day my father was alive."

The intense "enjoyment" Robinson squeezes out of every coaching experience has at least one limit. He hates losing with venomous loathing. When asked if he still sulks in defeat, as he did throughout his career as a player and coach at Bath, Robinson snorts. "Of course ..."

As a depleted England confront a resurgent South Africa and Australia, next month's post-match press conferences at Twickenham could be especially intriguing. "The problem I have is that I don't understand losing. What's the point of it? The whole feeling and the sheer embarrassment of losing ... I hate it. It never happened much throughout my career and I never got used to losing. So I do sulk - but it's an emotion inside me and it's better coming out. As head coach, I don't know exactly how I'm going to react when we lose. But I am totally accountable. I won't shirk from that."

Robinson bursts out laughing. "Not that I'm actually planning on losing much ..."

Yet the retirement of Martin Johnson, Lawrence Dallaglio, Neil Back and Jason Leonard, the axing of Matt Dawson and countless injuries - most damagingly to his new captain, Jonny Wilkinson - have weakened England. Robinson, however, is predictably bullish even though England have lost five of their last six matches.

"I believe every time England play they should go out with the conviction that they have the players and the support to win. As a spectator I always believed that - just as I did as a player and now as a coach. With the right preparation we've got enough of the right people to win every time.

"That attitude is all about the empowerment of your players. However many injuries you pick up beforehand, wherever you play and however the game goes, irrespective of the opposition or the referee's performance, we should have the tactical nous and the physical edge and the pure will to win that game. I haven't done my job properly if we can't do that."

Such a brazen statement might induce accusations of hubris when Robinson's England suffer their first loss. That possibility has intensified with Wilkinson's latest injury. "I chose Jonny as captain because he's one of our toughest competitors. He and Johnson epitomised that belief we had when we went so long without losing a game to the southern hemisphere. We always found a way to win."

With Wilkinson looking even more vulnerable than England, and about to be temporarily replaced as captain during his latest break from the game, the absence of Johnson will again be felt acutely. Pressed on his yearning to have retained Johnson for at least another year, to ease the pressure on his fragile No10, Robinson counters with a defiant, "Who says Danny Grewcock's not going to develop that kind of authority Johnno brought to England? Or Phil Vickery? Or Steve Thompson?"

Robinson shrugs at words like "lack of discipline", "injury" and "loss of form" in reference to those three players. Mike Tindell, Jason Robinson and Steve Borthwick have been mentioned as more likely captaincy alternatives. "The key point is that this is not about re-creating Johnno. He's gone now. We should celebrate his England career but move on."

The school-masterly tone is another reminder of his past. When I ask Robinson about his teaching career, expecting him to be thankful for the rise of professional rugby, he is typically fervent. "I absolutely loved teaching! I would've loved to have stayed on. Teaching [at public schools such as Colstons in Bristol and King Edwards in Bath] really helped me because it provides a natural progression into coaching. It's all about managing and handling people. Sometimes you have to be tough. Sometimes you have to be more flexible."

Robinson laughs lightly when I suggest he must have terrified a lot of teenage boys. "You'd better ask the kids what I was like as a teacher. I don't think they were that fearful. Hopefully they enjoyed the way I taught. I pushed a few of them really hard. I actually pushed most of them pretty toughly because that's the only way you really find out something about a person ..."

Robinson looks briefly wistful and it's hard to know whether he's looking back to the past, and his father, or to the near future and the bruising Tests that await England. "If you're pushed outside your comfort zone that's when you learn the most about yourself. I've always known that - as a player, a coach and a person. The biggest challenges, and the greatest adversity, bring out the best in you. I learnt that a long time ago."