|On the roof at Girton College|
So the Cambridge Faculty of Education accepted me to study for a PGCE in Classics, and one of the half dozen forms I have to fill in asks me which college I would like to apply to. (Unlike undergraduate applications to Oxbridge, for PGCE, the college is secondary. )
What a wonderful opportunity to apply again to my old college, Girton. As a girl from a far less than privileged background, Girton gave me a chance and nurtured me.
I still occasionally dream that I am ascending a particularly romantic spiral staircase in a corner of the college, my hand on the smooth banister. I have a feeling of anticipation, but I can’t tell you whether it is a social occasion that my dream-self is headed for, or a session in the library devouring some new subject.
Carried away by loyalty and nostalgia, I write down “Girton” on my form.
Later I receive an email declaring acceptance.
Later still, I ring up the Faculty of Education to check one or two items. For instance, I plan to continue to live with my family and to make a long drive to and from the Faculty each day.
“How do I book a car-parking space?”
“Oh – that’s not through the Faculty of Education, that’s through your college.”
Girton College is around four miles distant from the Faculty.
I put down the phone.
When there are so many old stories of magic in West Cornwall, surely there must be something in it.
Drolls and Weirds, a romantic historical mystery will soon be available via this website.