Salisbury

Salisbury

My first ever visit to Salisbury was for an interview with Harold Wilson, The Principal of the Theological College.

I hitch hiked from Manchester in my jeans with a suit in my rucksack when I got to Salisbury I changed into my suit in the toilets in the Market Square.

Two things about the interview impressed me hugely. The first was when I was asked about my appearance and how I had travelled, Harold commented that it was both respectful and a sign of good manners and something that he very much appreciated. The second was his comment on my academic achievements i.e. Five GCE passes, all achieved at night school, he assured me that it revealed to him that I had applied myself to the task set me by the selection conference and that if I succeeded at Bernard Gilpin Society, which he was sure I would, then he had no doubts that I would do well at Salisbury.

I accepted the offer of a place and joined my pre-theological course in a positive frame of mind.

The year at Bernard Gilpin passed quickly and after a summer break in Manchester I moved to Salisbury, The college address is 19 The Close and for the next three years I lived as a student in those bucolic surroundings.

The Cathedral was in my view the most beautiful building and there was no finer start to a day than to walk out of College with the Cathedral on the left and then on through the Close with a group of college friends, after the Constable had opened the gates, and walk up the High Street to W H Smiths to look over the record collection and occasionally purchase the latest Stones or Beatles Album. That was where I bought early copies of both Sgt Pepper and The White Album.

I affected an alternative dress code, one that I had developed over the years, of jeans, polo neck sweater and a tweed jacket. Once at supper in the college dining room the Principal had commented approvingly on the look which quickly became a college fashion statement.

During that first year I felt myself slowly changing, becoming more creative, impetuous, and self-confident. I continued to write and publish poetry, including a book of poems published by the college, I still have the hand-bound edition commissioned for me and my co-author, by the Principal.

Eventually I was asked to participate in writing a piece for the 1000th Anniversary of the founding of the Cathedral. Little did I know how this event and the things that happened on the jousting field would affect my life.

In 1967 I was a twenty two year old Theological College in Salisbury, a long way from my home in Manchester. Term was drawing to a close and one evening I was out with a college friend for a pint in the New Inn in Salisbury.

I couldn’t help noticing the very attractive, blonde haired girl, sitting at the bar wearing a very fashionable mini skirt, I was captivated and turned to my friend and announced: I’ve just seen the girl I’m going to marry. His response was, to say the very least, sceptical.

I saw her again around the town on a few occasions but the opportunity to speak simply didn’t arise and I began to lose heart and wonder if my plan would meet the fate prophesied by my doubting friend without ever being tested.

On the Saturday of the Salisbury Millennium Festival in 1967, I was asked to meet a couple of Art College Students who were coming to the college to dress for their role in a Jousting Tournament to be held on Constable’s famous water meadows, a chore I thought, but someone had to pretend to be hospitable.

When she crossed the Cathedral Green in her mini skirt I realised that for me, to use the name of an old TV show, opportunity as well as my heart, was knocking. When I asked her out and she accepted I knew that success was at hand.

She told me that her name was Janet, that she lived at home with her family, that she was studying fashion at the Art College. It did not take me long to fall head over heels in love. I also decided on that first night that my earlier thought was right, I would ask her to marry me. The problem was that I was due to travel to Germany for six weeks to undertake a vacation job with the NAAFI.

At twenty two, six weeks is a lifetime.

So for possibly the first time in my life I tried to play a careful hand fearing that too much enthusiasm might scare her off, so I asked, I hoped casually, whether we might meet up when I got back to college after the summer. She agreed to that and then when I wrote to her from Germany she replied to my letters.

A positive sign I hoped.

On one occasion walking her home from college she told me that I made a refreshing change from other boyfriends as I hadn’t asked what her father’s job was.

Of course I had to ask.

She mentioned the delivery vans that could be seen around Salisbury. I immediately leapt to a spirited defence of working men and importance of a job like driving a delivery van. There was a long silence before she continued, telling me that her father owned the company.

Once back from Germany we began to see each other regularly. She tried to persuade me that she was not the right girl for me. The thought of becoming a Vicars wife had at this stage not really seemed to occur to her. But I was not to be dissuaded.

On the occasion of my parent’s silver wedding being celebrated in Manchester I managed to borrow a car with the intention of driving North for the weekend. I invited Janet to join me but first had to persuade her Father to allow her to make the journey. He was clearly not happy and I had to make various solemn promises about sleeping arrangements if we broke down and had to stay overnight in accommodation.

Eventually and reluctantly he agreed. Then disaster struck, the car I was borrowing belonged to the Tutor, Chris Bryant, he mentioned my plan to the Principal who called me in, my assignments were not up to date so all weekend leave was cancelled.

There was nothing for it, on the Thursday night I stayed up all night and completed the assignments, at seven a.m. I came downstairs and slid them into each of the Tutors in-trays, there was a lot of paper, I then went to Chapel, saw the Principal said that I was up to date, he relented, I got the car and off we went to Manchester.

The next eighteen months went by in a whirlwind of study, dating and moments of intense sadness as her father’s illness became dramatically worse and he died. Janet was heartbroken, the college rallied round, the Tutor took the funeral service at the Crematorium in Salisbury and together we began to repair our lives.

With another student I wrote lyrics to the music he composed. We sent our songs to Apple and were amazed and excited to receive a telephone call inviting us to the Apple studios in London.

Janet had left college and was working in a small independent boutique, designing, making and selling clothes; she then got a job in the New Forest in a couture dress designer’s studio, making the model garments. This involved her in travelling up to London to the fashion shows.

At this point her relationship with her step-mother had worsened and she was on the point of leaving home when a full-time move to London became possible. I approached the Principal about whether I might take a one year leave of absence from college in order to be married. I would move to London to be with Janet.

The Principal was against this, as he said if I left I would never return. Then out of the blue he mentioned an elderly lady, who lived in Salisbury who was looking for house sitters for the winter whilst she was in Durham with her Son. We should go and see her. The lady was herself a medical doctor, the daughter of a Bishop whose son was a vicar in Durham. He had been unwell and she wanted to be with him whilst he convalesced. The meeting went very well and we were accepted as house sitters.

On the 16th November 1968 we were married in the College Chapel by the Principal with a choir of college students singing Charles Wesley’s And Can It Be. When we got to the line, My Chains fell off, my heart was free, I nearly wept with the delicious irony.

During my last round of exams Janet was working in a Chemist’s shop, her rag trade employers having seen that work and marriage did not go well together, had ‘let her go’, so took the first job she could.

During the previous two rounds of Exams I had managed to pass with a relatively disappointing 46%. As the pass mark was 45%, I boasted that this represented 1% wasted effort. During this last round of exams, I worked because I felt guilty that Janet was working to keep me, the result was that the extra effort was not wasted and in one paper I gained a distinction. The Principal commented that it was a pity that I hadn’t married sooner.

!966 – 1969 were the most significant and the happiest years of my life to that point. I have had times since, jobs since, intimate times with family since, but for those three years as a student, the last two in a serious relationship with someone that I loved deeply, and to whom I was for the last six months married, meant that I had the time of my life.

By the end of the spring term most students knew which parish they would be serving their title in. I still had no idea. I had been approached by the Vicar of the parish where Janet’s stepmother lived, it would have kept us in Salisbury but I was uneasy and Janet wanted to move on. At this stage I found London exciting to visit but too daunting a place to countenance living, although Janet would have been able to find work.

Harold Wilson sent us North to Leeds for an interview with a Vicar in a Parish on a huge council estate. We had left Salisbury after Janet had finished work and driven North in our Mini, a long road in those days.

When we arrived we were told that the Vicar was eating and were asked to wait in the sitting room whilst he finished. It turned out that the door had been opened by the vicar’s wife. That night we went to bed hungry.

The whole experience was utterly dreadful, unwelcoming and rude. We travelled back to Salisbury in a cloud of depression to be greeted by the Principal who showed me a letter from the Vicar saying that I would not be welcome and asking if the Principal thought that I should be ordained. Sharing your mind with a prospective employer was an early error of judgement that continued to play well into my career.

Harold then showed me another letter, this one from a friend of his from Sheffield, Ted Greathead, Ted was looking to appoint a Curate but at that point the Parish was unaware of his plan so for the moment he had to be discreet.

Was I interested? Harold asked. The name of the parish was Hatfield near Doncaster so once again Janet and I took the long road north.