A journey through education 4

The principal of Ruskin College had developed a rather elitist practice over the years, lovely man though Bill Hughes was. He had made an arrangement with some of the Oxford colleges to take on one of his mature students, either regularly, or occasionally. At the end of my two years study at Ruskin, I found myself among those informally selected to be interviewed by one or more of the colleges for consideration. I was accepted by Worcester College as a senior student and it was there that I matriculated the following Autumn. It was a strange experience for the education reject from south London.

In retrospect, I have come to believe that my time at Worcester and the following three years as a research assistant at Nuffield College was a mistake. My life had taken a turn from which I found myself unable to retreat. Regrets in old age are commonplace and I feel that I have more than my fair share of them.

I had seriously considered continuing my delayed education at a less elitist university.I thought that I would feel more comfortable among people from a broader background. There was a scholarship to  an American mature students' college available and I thought of applying for that. Many ex-Ruskin students have gone on to the University of Hull, over the years, because of an informal connection, so that was a possibility too. However, I really liked the look of a course at the University of Nottingham, so I applied for that, as an option to staying on at Oxford.

Rather unusually, my interview at Nottingham was on a Saturday. I was told, when I arrived, that there had been a mistake. I had applied for politics with economics, but the interviews scheduled for that day were for economics with politics. Different people were involved in interviewing, the man told me. He then said that he would phone the head of politics at his home, on my behalf. If I was somewhat bemused by this time I was to become even more so. The head of politics invited me to his house for a chat. He explained that he was an avid Welsh rugby union fan and intended to watch the match against England being shown on TV shortly. He would be delighted to have the company of a discomfited English man. I just love the eccentricity of academics. They are, mostly, marvellous people. I explained to him that where I came from rugby union was associated with grammar schools and the middle-class. No working class activist could support it, we were strictly soccer supporters. My love affair with Peterborough United had not yet begun at that time. Despite having had the opportunity of watching both Manchester teams, it is Peterborough which remains engraved on my heart. However, I suspended disbelief and we watched the rugby together. Afterwards he said that he would be pleased to welcome me to Nottingham, if that was my choice. We parted with a handshake, never to coincide again. I left reflecting on the rigour of university selection procedure. I decided to continue at Oxford. I have made so many bad choices in my life that I have lost count of them. This was one of my very worst. But I have my excuses readily available.

I only had two years of grant money still available to me. As a senior student this was sufficient for Oxford, but not for Nottingham. At Nuffield, later, I received a stipend, if that is the right word, of £18 pw rising to £23 by the time I left for my adventures in Peterborough. There were three of us by then, so it wasn't easy.

My uneasy relationship with Oxford in the sixties led me back into political activism. The psychology is not difficult to understand. Wherever I am and what ever I am doing, I am still the kid in the elementary school playground. Fighting, in one form or another, is how I relate to the world. I became involved in the Oxford Centre for Socialist Education and was its convenor for a while. The majority of its members were International Socialists, at that time members of the Labour Party. I left the Labour Party myself, after a while and joined the Independent Labour Party, to return to mainstream Labour in Peterborough. It is the ILP, with all its ambiguities, which really defines my politics.

After Nuffield I needed a job and my small family needed me to get one. I joined the adult education service in Peterborough and went on to become the Principal of Peterborough College of Adult Education. This is an unlikely story I know, however, I can't avoid the fact that it is true. In Peterborough I became engaged in battles about what the priorities in adult education should be. I had time-out to take another degree at Essex University and then joined the Institute of Continuing Education at the University of Ulster. My time in Peterborough, punctuated by shouts of 'Come on Posh', takes only a short time to tell, but it was eleven years of my life, which ended thirty years ago. So, there is yet more to tell.