I’ve wanted to go to the reunion for a long time but something always kept me away, something simple like living overseas, or an uneasy feeling, one I can only describe as unworthiness.
OK that does sound a wee bit dramatic but I’m one of those people who didn’t stay at Killerton for the duration. I didn’t get the full experience, I didn’t have the chance to form the amazingly close bonds of those who stayed for three years. So yes, in a way, unworthy.
The closer I got to the Friday evening venue the more those feelings started to grip me, the more I wondered if I’d made the right decision, and the more I thought about how I’d react when I met everyone. Would I need some answers, some justifications for what might be seen by some as ‘betrayal’ all those years ago?
I knew who’d be there as Steve had sent out the list, and it seemed that there were only a few people from my 1970 intake and that added more fuel to my insecurity pyre. Oh well, too late to back out now.
Pint in hand I headed for the riverside garden of the Fisherman’s Cot and before me were small groups of people roughly my age, small groups engaged in animated conversation.
Oh bloody hell. Had they seen me? Could I just sneak back into the bar unnoticed?
No chance - a smiling Taff was followed by Steve, then Roger - everything suddenly felt good and familiar again.
Sunday morning I took the scenic route from Thorverton to Killerton, narrowly avoided being wiped out by tossers in Range Rovers doing 100mph down the lanes, and arrived safely at the main car park.
It was my first time back at Killerton and in the distance, even with the scaffolding, the house looked magnificent.
The house tour was surreal and slightly worrying, mainly due to my now seriously flawed memory.
The ground floor rooms looked the same, but then again they didn’t, and I worked hard to ‘see’ them as they were in 1970. What helped of course were the constant stream of anecdotes from those with better memories, suddenly each room came alive with mental images of people and events.
Stepping into my old room, even though it’s now a meeting room, was odd to say the least.
The cricket match was just as I’d imagined it would be, despite the remarkable change in the facilities. Killerton was always blessed with outstanding all round athletes who shared a deep passion for any sport they played, allied to a fierce determination not to lose, and an unshakable team spirit.
Cricket was no exception and it still showed despite the passing years.
So how did I get to Killerton, why did I leave, and what happened next?
I applied to Luke’s because it had a formidable reputation for sport, it’s in a nice part of the country, and I thought I might want to be a teacher.
As someone who is enthusiastic, but pretty average at most sports I was amazed that I was accepted, indeed the hardest part of getting in was finding a vicar who’d give me a reference!
My subjects were Economics and History, and I was allocated a room in South Cloisters which on the face of it was a great result, right on campus with very modern facilities. By the end of the first week I had switched my subjects around and was moving out to Killerton. How did that happen?
Changing to History was easy, it was always my preference but the careers teacher said I’d have more chance of being accepted if I chose economics.
As for Killerton I quickly heard tales of the students who lived in a stately home, had their own bar, sports pitches, and were a sort of brotherhood. When one of my tutor group said they wanted to be on campus I immediately offered to swap.
So you see, in my defence, I made a conscious decision to be at Killerton.
I felt accepted immediately and knew I’d made the right choice, I was going to stop being a very naive schoolboy very quickly. I improved my drinking skills, started to learn rugby, and took full advantage of the close ties with Rolle College.
Beyond that the year must have passed in a blur as I have very few detailed memories, just a recollection of being part of something very special. That feeling has been repeated occasionally in my working life, and when I was part of particularly close knit sports teams.
So if it was so good why did I leave?
I have asked myself that question so many times and like everything else I guess it was a combination of factors, other things that at the time seemed more important. My studies weren’t going too well, I had fallen for a girl in town, most of my tutor group lived on campus, my car was scrap. When one day the Rev Fuller said that I could have a room in South Cloisters again I said yes.
For me Killerton Corner became ‘invitation only’. Being ex-Killerton afforded some privileges but I rarely sat there even when asked. I remained friends with everyone but we now lived in different worlds.
I stayed in SC and was even made proctor in year three but the role seemed very different to what I had experienced at Killerton, in many ways I was expected to be a policeman, to stop the freshers doing things, not help them to grow up.
To everyone’s great surprise I was asked to stay on for year four but had to move off campus and joined five others in a farmhouse near Broadclyst. The atmosphere in the house was much more like Killerton, they were all rugby players and I had no choice but to get with the programme. You may remember some of the people (I hope I have all their names right) there was Bobbie Williams, Geoff Warne, Dick Matthews, ‘Butch’ Wilkins (?), Chris Haines. The PE students were busy making plans to avoid teaching for a while and high on their list was postgraduate study in North America. I didn’t realise it at the time but a seed had been sown that would drastically change the course of my career.
My first teaching job was back at my old school in Southall, Middlesex and the head of PE encouraged me to join the local rugby club Osterley RFC. Despite my objections he figured that as I’d gone to Luke’s I must be a great player. I wasn’t but I learned quickly and progressed from the wing to second then first five eighth. I was hooked.
As well as rugby my goal was to pass my probationary year so I was a proper qualified teacher.
I’d forgotten that when the PE guys were applying to the States I sent off some forms too. Just after Christmas I received a letter from the University of Alberta offering me a place on their M.Ed programme, they’d even pay all my fees and accommodation, as well as a small salary if I taught some undergraduate courses.
A nano second later I’d made the decision to go to Canada for two years. The work wasn’t too onerous and despite being very average in UK terms I made the first team at both rugby and football which had the added bonus of seeing most of Canada and the northern US states on the various away games.
Back in the UK I had no teaching post and no rugby club but both were fixed fairly quickly. I started supply teaching and was assigned to a special school, one term later I was their full time Maths specialist - yes Maths. I’d also joined London Scottish and settled into the 3rd/4th XV but had the chance to watch and learn from some of the greats at training. I was totally in awe of the Lawson/Wilson combination.
I moved from school to school with alarming regularity, somehow managing to get promoted each time. Eventually I became head of the Moselle School in Tottenham only to see it totally trashed in the Broadwater Farm riot just a week later. For a while I wasn’t a headteacher more a media spokesperson, fund raiser, and defender of our kids. The staff and parents were great, four years later we had refashioned and updated the school but I was drained. When Apple came along and asked if I would like to look after the education team I didn’t resist.
Twenty years at Apple saw me move from education to corporate sales, HR, then training. To start with I was based in the UK but later in California before my final role which had me ‘commuting’ to SE Asia, Australia, and Latin America.
Un-bloody-believable!
Not that long before I had been up and down the A303 in my beaten up VW Beetle hoping that on the next hill my fuel line wouldn’t freeze, now I was sitting in the front of jets crossing the globe.
The end at Apple came suddenly, I was asked to ‘let go’ three of my team, I refused, so they sacked me. That opened another door, I’d fallen in love with New Zealand on a short visit so we left (not with wife v3.0’s unqualified support) to open an Apple reseller in Queenstown.
Now back in the UK I grapple unhappily with retirement.
So why go on about what happened to me after college? Well, because I truly believe that my time at Killerton had a massive effect on my attitude to life.
Firstly it taught me to trust my instincts, to take chances, to feel confident about stepping into the unknown, to not accept ‘what will be’, to make things happen. All that started with my decision to give up my safe, cosy place at South Cloisters.
Most importantly though are mates, people you’d do anything for, and they for you. People who will take the piss out of you unmercifully, egg you on to get out of your comfort zone. People who make where you are a truly special place.
Killerton taught me all those things, maybe I had to leave to realise what I was now missing.
All I know is that throughout my working and sporting life I have sought out like minded people and tried to create productive and enjoyable environments.
You just know when things feel right.
Thank you Killerton.