40s and 50s Memories
the RAF in 1958 or 1959? The answer was to
stay at school, taking different 'A' Levels and
supervising and sometimes even instructing
classes when staff were absent.
Two hammer blows hit me early in 1957. First,
I was declared medically unfit for National
Service which was not a big surprise since they
were then only accepting those whose fitness
was categorised as A1. I then checked up on
my expected 'County Grant' to go to Cambridge,
only to be told that I was not considered eligible
because the Council intended to give their
money to those who had attended the state
schools in the area, not someone who had
been to a public school. I had lost the route
into the future that had given me such certainty.
I was bereft of ideas.
My uncle, always known - lovingly - as the
black sheep of the family because he alone had
"made money", offered to secure me a place
as a trainee accountant in Thorn's Electrical
Industries. I set off to London from the west
country vicarage which had been my habitat for
18 years, and set about finding 'digs' somewhere
close to the Thorn's factory in Enfield. My
weekly pay, after deductions for tax and
National Insurance, was £4-10-3d. After days
of failure to find a place that I could afford, I was
offered a room in the house of an elderly couple
who took pity on me and charged me £3-15-0
for bed, breakfast, evening meal and laundry.
I walked 50 minutes to work and 50 minutes
back again, and had to forego lunches, but I
was independent - more or less. And I hated
it - not the walking but the impersonal nature
of the work, processing numbers which meant
nothing to me. Worse was to come. Someone
called me by my uncle's surname! Nepotism
was exposed - and so was I, palpably a public
school 'toff' who had received favour from Head
Office. I was aggressively questioned: why
had I not gone to University? It was made plain
that I did not really fit into the office.
The ensuing story is too long to tell in detail.
It ended with me nervously approaching the
English Speaking Union to see if I could get a
scholarship to an American University and, in
September 1957, sailing across the Atlantic on
the 'Queen Mary' to become an 'Undergraduate
Fellow' for one year at Wesleyan University in Connecticut. It was during that year that
my father met the local MP. Ingenuously,
he asked whether the fact that an American
University would pay for my studies when
my local authority would not constituted the
much-debated 'brain drain'. Just three weeks
later, I received a letter from the authority to
say that they had reconsidered my situation,
and they were pleased to give me a grant to
go to Cambridge. The 'Sons of Clergy' Charity
supplemented it, and I returned to England and
entered Pembroke in 1958 along with virtually
the last full group who 'went up' at the age of
20, having done their National Service. It meant
that for the next three years, the 'Varsity Rugby
team still fielded several renowned international
players.
I was however still unsure of my career path.
Memories of my 'teaching' of junior classes in my
last terms at King's coupled with an ultimately
unrequited love of a nurse at Addenbroke's
Hospital persuaded me that it would be sensible
to stay in Cambridge and study for a Dip. Ed..
The course required that the Spring Term should
be spent wholly committed to one school - in
my case, Bedford School. I soon realised that I
had found my calling - and Bedford offered to
employ me again after I qualified. There was a
caveat. I would be employed for one year to
teach English, not my degree subject of History.
After that year, I would be appointed to the
History vacancy that the compulsory retirement
of the oldest member of department would
guarantee - provided that a certain Cambridge
rugby player, currently taking his Dip Ed after
reading History for three years, did not get a
Blue. If he should get the Blue, the job was to
be his. He got the Blue and the job, and he
went on to a distinguished career in - or on
- both fields. Back on the jobs market after
most of the attractive vacancies for historians
had been filled, I finally secured a junior post
at Beckenham and Penge Grammar School,
starting in September 1963. I was back in 'digs'
again.
However, in the Spring holidays of that year
(while still at Bedford), I had got a job for two
weeks as a courier on the Hellenic Society's
annual expedition to Greece and Turkey. I
was paid £25 for the fortnight, half of which
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