Autobiographical

The early 1980s were another prolific period in music, from Roxy Music to David Bowie, Kate Bush, The Police, The Clash, The Jam, to Madness, The Specials, Adam Ant, Ultravox, Duran Duran and The Pet Shop Boys. Obviously there was much more, but that will have to do for now. Politically, it was a time of student protest against Thatcherism. 

Whereas school is a rite of passage you have to endure, university was a choice, that is, if you were lucky enough to make the cut back then. It is worth recalling that back in those days only 7-10% of school leavers attended the 38 universities available in the 1980s, predominantly men. Most students had access to grants that covered their university lodgings and other costs, but could also get low-cost loans where necessary, while university fees were only introduced in September 1998. We were a fortunate generation compared to the financial hardships and loan debt built up by students in the 2000s and beyond.

I opted for Queen Mary College, London University, known since 2013 as Queen Mary University of London after an earlier merger with Westfield College. I lived at home in part as my grant was not sufficient to rent a room and I was not eligible for lodgings. However, it was mainly due to domestic issues where I was required to help my mum and dad.

Back then (we are talking here September 1982) it took a good hour and a half to get there by tube from Ealing Broadway after walking 15 minutes from home to the station. As I got on at the beginning of the line, however, I was always guaranteed a seat and could use the time to catch up on any late reading of literature or language for my combined honours degree in French and Russian.  

I had picked the Slavic language as it was something different – my sister had studied Japanese, while at the time I didn’t realise that my Dad had acquired good knowledge of Russian from his earlier studies and World War II. None of that had been disclosed back then. I refused to believe all the reports about the Soviet economy and food shortages, control on foreign visitors, etc. The course offered both a year teaching English in France or studying French at a university there and three months in a city in the USSR, which was allegedly selected arbitrarily. So five years in total, a longer period of freedom before entering the workforce full time for good.

I made a few good friends in the first year, doing French – Phil and Russell – and Russian – a stunning blonde Natalie (Nats). I got back in touch briefly with Phil who built an excellent career in sales before retiring. I also had the good fortune to reconnect with Russell. Curiously they both ended up in Northern Ireland. 

Russell has had an eventful life, including a spell in Australia where he met the love of his life, and has been successful ever since, helping other people both as a counsellor (you can find superb videos that he has made as Russell Edwards on LinkedIn, YouTube and TikTok) and as one of the best languages and special needs teachers. He is like a long-lost lost brother to me and is a constant support. He has an extraordinary memory and is working on his autobiography, as well as a novel. They deserve to be picked up by a publisher and developed into a series on Netflix, Amazon Prime or another outlet. 

Back then Phil, Russell and I did all the usual things, hanging out at the discounted university pub, coffee bars, going to clubs and getting pissed at drinking dens of iniquity like the Hog and Pound on Bond Street. Meanwhile Nats and I tended to hang out during the day. 

These were the best times of our lives thanks to the breath of freedom of the day, a lack of stress or concern about the future and a fascinating and turbulent period in both domestic and international politics, arts and music, all the more so, as apartheid and the Cold War would soon come to an end. Not before my three months in the south of Russia though…

Painting by Manas Kisamedinov, Kazakh artist (1995)