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Armed with my eminently useful "A" Level qualifications in English, French and German, I entered the portals of the
University of Surrey
in September 1980. Gosh! How quickly time does pass! The University is in Guildford, and is situated on the top of an extremely inconvenient hill. Shopping involved heavy-duty cross-country skills, there being no direct bus at that time. Next to the University is Guildford Cathedral, which has a wonderful golden angel perched on the top. I loved that angel, visible from my cramped accommodation. Yes, that angel... you either loved it or hated it! Well, I had a great time at Surrey, and remember many people with good thoughts and a smile - even if we are all rather far apart or out of touch by now!
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The Grand Tour
Having chosen to do a languages degree, you'll not be surprised that various trips abroad - involving heavy educational training of course - ensued. In the spring of 1982, I and an enthusiastic bunch of my fellow students took the train/boat/train combination to the first stop on my Grand Tour of Europe, courtesy of the University of Surrey!
German was my subsidiary language, and for some unknown reason, an anonymous sage in academia had decided that the town of Darmstadt and in particular its Technische Hochschule, was a good place for fresh young students with a rudimentary ability in German to go.
Unfortunately, as a town, Darmstadt is one of the most boring places I have ever been to. (Don't forget - I come from Swindon.) A divine cakeshop, trip to Heidelberg and Berlin and generally good weather spiced up the stay somewhat, but all in all - little educational value was gained, most people refusing to speak any German to us at all. Oh dear!
I spent the summer of 1982 working for C and A in Rouen, France. Every day, I took the bus from the outskirts of town where I lived with a great view over the river, into the centre, where the flower and fruit and vegetable markets were getting ready for business. The working day was filled with such thrilling tasks as checking racks of clothes for undone buttons or missing belts, ordering the clothes on display by size and colour and listening to the canned music going round and round ad infinitum. The work itself may have been tedious, but my colleagues kept my spirits up and the town itself was a delight.
That academian sage reared his ugly head again in 1983. The summer term this year was to be spent in the centre of the Loire valley wine growing region of north-west France. Tours itself was not ideal for a group of cashless students, a little wiser than the year before. The university in the town did not seem overly enthusiastic in welcoming us - and the block where our accommodation was, going by the homely name of "Sanitas", was filled with small rooms and long corridors, horrible kitchens where for some strange reason the shower was located, strange knocks and murmurs at the door in the middle of the night - and noise from the main road outside, viewed easily at night through the ripped curtains. It was not long before a spirit of adventure carried some of us on the train south to Aix-en-Provence - where sun, wine and a laid-back lifestyle gave true meaning to our degree course. It was all too soon when I received a summons from the sage to head north - far north - right to the top of the country in fact, to my next destination.
The small fishing/pleasure port of Roscoff in Britanny was a delight to my sore eyes as I finished my journey from Marseilles. Accommodation - all nicely arranged for the first time ever. Job - working for Britanny Ferries. Weather - mostly beautiful. Peace factor - maximum. Chatting on the phone all day to French travel agents and lost British tourists, with cider and pancakes for lunch and fish with everything in the evening, I was extremely sorry to leave. Educational factor - Kilimanjaro!
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