© 2006-2008 John C. Beresford

personal

early years

university

family

spiritualism

leisure

travelogues

I attended UMIST for 2 years from 1975-77.  Biochemistry was my second choice for a degree subject and it didn't take long to realise my heart wasn't in it.  I later learned that Biochemistry courses throughout the country (at that time there were six to choose from) varied widely in their mix of Biology and Chemistry.  With my preference for Biology, Microbiology and Genetics I would have been better off at Southampton.  UMIST, with its greater emphasis on Physical Chemistry (yuk!) was not the best choice.  Either way, within a year of getting to Manchester I had discovered computing, and, more important, that I had an aptitude for it.  I also discovered the delights of the Student Union in which I became relatively active, to the extent that I was elected Socials Secretary in my second year.

My involvement in Student Union Socials was great fun, but it didn't help my waning commitment to my degree course.  After failing my second year exams and facing up to the prospect of resitting a subject I really had lost interest in (at least academically) I left UMIST in June 1977.

During summer vacations, starting immediately after 'A' Levels and including both my first and second (last) year summers, I worked with Rushcliffe Borough Council.  I started on the bins but it wasn't long before the management learned I had a driving licence and was prepared to take responsibility for driving a truck; something many of my contemporaries were unwilling to do for the meagre pay hike of £1.75 a week or so.  Once they found out, I was offered a move on to street masonry (kerbing and flagging to you), tarmaccing and house clearances.

These were some of the most carefree and enjoyable days of my life.  Walking to work at the Abbey Road depot in the quiet summer mornings, a hard but stress-free day's physical labour laying kerbs, digging trenches or raking tarmac, back home to a hot bath and a simple evening meal, driving out in the evenings with my mates to one of the charming pubs in any of the many South Notts villages that were within easy reach of Bridgford.  Life since then has never been so simple or so sweet.  Maybe the passing years have added their traditional rose-tinge to my perspective, but those summer weeks will always have a special place in my memories.

It was with some poignant regret that I read recently of the closure of the old depot at Abbey Road.  To any of my old colleagues who are still around, both students and permies: Tom, Bill, Pete, Chris and everyone - thanks for all the games of Solo, the unforgettable and inimitable cups of hot, strong, sweet tea from the chipped old enamel jug, the banter and the piss-takes.  I raise a virtual mug to you all from the "Student Prince."

Back to Manchester

With my second year results in and failure to make it into the third year of my Biochemistry degree course now a reality, I negotiated an extension to my vacation job at the council until the end of October.  But this was never going to be a solution to what to do with the rest of my life.  Even if "the management" hadn't made it clear that October was the real end of my tenure at Abbey Road, and even if an ex-student colleague, who had left Uni in similar circumstances the summer before and was still working the bins a year later, hadn't exhorted me not to make the same mistake as him, I couldn't see myself making a career of it.

But knowing what I didn't want to do was a lot easier than deciding what I did want.  After joining the ranks of the unemployed at the end of October, I tried the police but failed the eyesight test.  I tried the computing department at Boots: no luck.  I applied for two environmental health positions in local government, only to fall foul of their adherence to the letter of recruitment process while at the same time appointing from within.

Finally, an old friend from UMIST offered me the last remaining room in a house share in Sale which I gratefully accepted, moving back to Manchester four days after my 21st birthday.

Almost immediately, I was offered two interviews...one with Ferranti (where another old friend from UMIST was working) and one with ICL.  I didn't hear from either before it was time to return to my folks to celebrate Christmas, but I decided it would be a good idea to come back in time for the New Year's parties I was sure would be happening.  I arrived back to find a job offer from ICL on the mat, which I subsequently accepted.  That was the high...but there's no pleasure without pain, we are told, and in this case the pain was that none of my mates had come back for New Year in Manchester, and there were no parties in evidence, so I spent a miserable New Year's Eve nursing a box of Christmas choccies and watching the traditionally appalling Hogmanay programmes on TV.