University dreams

Continued from “How I came to inhabit this body“.
I’d been accepted for some Civil Service or academic post, it wasn’t clear which or what. A colleague from a different department invited me for a chat, a sort of all-day induction. He was such good company that I felt guilty to be getting paid for such idle fun. Shouldn’t I be sitting at a desk with my head down? He laughed, took me for a walk around the town, no sense of urgency about anything, till we returned to his office for a fine buffet lunch. He said my new boss would be showing up soon, I needed to be briefed in advance. The post was very prestigious. I was to move with my family to Cambridge*. I protested: don’t expect me to start a new life at my age! I’m settled. I don’t even want this post, I already have everything I want, not answerable to any hierarchy. I have freedom of thought: this is my only asset, don’t take that away.

Then he delivered the coup de grâce, the killer blow: “You’ll be at Queen’s College! You’re part of the family, it goes back generations, welcome back! We’ll look after everything. There can be no question of refusing. And, now, here is your superior, the College Provost, with three senior colleagues.” Four distinguished-looking persons came in—all women, one in an Indian sari—how disconcerting to be working under them! The Provost said a few words, then they all stood in line waiting to shake my hand, as if this were a long-awaited moment. Gauche and nervous, I muttered that my hands were a little sticky with butter. I looked around wildly for something to wipe them on. They pretended not to notice, waited. All attention was on me.

It was one of those dreams where I’m cornered, and my only escape is to wake up, and learn something I needed to know. As much as I admire the deeds and renown of my shadowy great-grandfather from Queen’s College, when it really comes down to it, I’m my father’s son, a common man, at home on the Desborough Road, not the ivory towers of Academe.

* I was surprised to check J. Sanger-Davies’ book and rediscover that he went to Oxford, unlike the other male relatives in the group photo below, who went to Cambridge. Facts never stand in the way of dreams.