ࡱ> 130 bjbjqq 4"ee&&iiiii}}}}  }jpppS^ipppppiipFiipMk}.x0SS8Si8@ppppppppppppppSppppppppp& /: Michael Foulsham A few memories of life in Cambridge in 1945. Although the war had ended, even in the Pacific, rationing was still strict, and there were other remnants of the war days, and the rules that had been made then. I joined the Boat Club, one of my better decisions, and at that time there was an agreement between the Colleges, and I think maybe also with Oxford, that rowing practice would be for three days a week only. I certainly enjoyed rowing (though without distinction), but with the three day limit there was time for other things. Apart from an interest in Homerton College, I devoted a great deal of my spare time to flying. The RAF had a semi-recruiting outlet in Cambridge, The University Air Squadron. This had been started at some time before the war and supplied many of the pilots, especially at the time of the Battle of Britain, for the sudden build up of the wartime RAF. Luckily for me the squadron was still operating, and continued for some years before economy cuts finally closed it down, I believe. The Squadron had its Mess and HQ in premises next to the Engineering Labs and Lecture Theatres, so for a Mech. Sciences student it was particularly handy. I had the joy of learning to fly a Tiger Moth whenever I had time to spare, and also made good friends with other students with a similar interest. The Mess had an excellent cook, but as rationing was very much with us, the only way you could lunch in the mess was to make a decision to not have college meals for a set number of lunches and dinners per week. This I did and enjoyed the happy-go-lucky atmosphere of the mess, three days a week. The Air Squadron had mainly novice pilots like myself, but we had two ex-bomber pilots who joined to enjoy flying Tiger Moths. One of them often entertained us with a recitation of an Oswald Moseley speech (Leader of the pre-war British Nationalist [Nazi] Party), and I remember that his recitation always ended with us all shouting "Joe for King, Molotov for Pope, Atlee for Consort". A good friend of mine from Kings was an excellent popular music pianist, so we all did a lot of raucous singing! Sadly the two men who had gone through a lot of the war were the only fatalities we had in my three years, they were together practicing forced landings, and tried to fly between two trees. Saturday night was "Dance Night" for most of us. The two main hops were organised by the Labour Party and the Young Conservatives.I don't think that I went to the latter more than once, the Labour Party attracted prettier girls we reckoned, and my pianist friend played in the band there. In those days there were gate fines at all but Trinity College (done away with there, we gathered, because Edward VII, when a Prince, was so often late it was diplomatic to remove the restriction). Another story was that a benevolent former student had left a large sum to the College with the stipulation that part of the money was to pay all gate fines. I like the first story better. The Colleges were all single sex in 1945, and the only two women's colleges were Girton and Newnham. The gate fines for coming back after 10.00pm were small, but after midnight there was a bigger fine, and you had to have your tutor's approval. These restrictions were not difficult for those of us who had just come from school, indeed we rejoiced in the freedom we now felt, but for the ex-service men returning from a very different life, it must have been very restrictive, and a number had problems with the proctors patrolling with their "bulldogs". I was in lodgings, overlooking ͨ's Pieces, with a rather difficult landlady. She had a poor little husband who spent most of his time working in the basement, by the light from a grating in the footpath, writing the names of all the people in the College photographs, which he did in very elegant script. When his wife went out he would come up stairs for a chat for as long as he dared to stay! One day I had a girl to tea that I had met at a dance, next day I asked both her and a friend to tea. My landlady came up after they had gone and said, "Yesterday you had a girl to tea and (with her voice rising) today you had two girls to tea!!" What terrible unnatural goings on she was imagining, I cannot think. Then she discovered a bottle of cider in my cupboard, and objected to that very strongly. After about a week I decided action was needed and I went to see the Don who managed the lodgings register. I told him that when I had the bottle in the cupboard it remained there for days and I hardly ever thought of it, but now I felt I needed a drink, possibly because none was there. He was a "bon vivant' type of man and said, "We must get you out of there as soon as possible!" Next term I was in lodgings in Hobson's Lane with a landlady who was one of nature's gentlewomen. I didn't move until my three years in Cambridge were, sadly, over. Reading my account again, it seems to deal entirely with trivialities, but probably there will be items by others that tell of the more serious side of life back in what seem now to have been "golden" times. >@AB1B̼ hhfJUh"h"6PJhI[CJOJQJaJhhfJUCJOJQJaJhhfJU6CJOJQJaJ h"PJ h"6hhfJU6hh6 hhV"hh9,56CJOJQJaJAB- .   kl@ABgdfJUgd"gd21h:pV. 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