What can I say in conclusion without becoming too mawkish and misty-eyed? Without doubt it was a very happy two-year sojourn at Culham – even though I did have to work hard. Principal Venables must have seen potential in me because I certainly feel I achieved far more than I had once thought possible. I know that others felt the same too.

Yes! We were a motley crew: not only were most English counties represented within the student population, with a strong Welsh representation too, but there was also a Scot (opting out of the Scottish training college system), an Ulsterman, a Channel Islander and the various overseas students I’ve mentioned before. Many of us were the product of local grammar schools, a few were from the new-fangled comprehensive schools and more than you might think came from (mainly minor) public schools. As previously mentioned, many had arrived at the college straight from their stint of National Service and they, therefore, had a very different ‘take’ on life compared with the lads straight from school.

The tutors were an equally mixed bunch – some also with experience of military service, notably Bill Wilder (Art) and Henry Babb (Maths, and Senior Chaplain). Both had been captives of the Japanese and both had somehow survived the horrors of the infamous Burma Railway: they certainly had a tale to tell.

When the new college had first opened in 1853, with fifty one students, the Vicar of Culham had been moved to write,"…….. the introduction of such a number of young men into a parish will most probably occasion some inconvenience and anxiety….." I wonder what, specifically, he had in mind?! In my time at Culham there were around two hundred of us, and that would have been beyond belief – or acceptance - for him. Just think, then, what he’d have thought of having a student population in excess of SIX HUNDRED on his doorstep (in the 1970s) – of men AND WOMEN!

Right from the earliest days, Culham students had not only become teachers but some had found their way into new fields – including taking up a university education and entering the priesthood. Those of my era were no different, although you could add careers such as education administration, youth work and the Probation Service to the list. Of those who did go into teaching, a few went into the private sector, a few into further education, many into primary education, and more than the national average went into secondary education. It’s for others to decide if we met with Soapy Sam’s fervent wish that we should leave the hallowed ground of Culham,"….. trained in piety, diligence and order"!!

Typical of those who plan for education’s future, training colleges such as Culham in the 1950s were being told that they must expand to provide far more teachers. This they did – only to be told shortly afterwards that far fewer teachers were going to be required! Accordingly many colleges were earmarked for closure. Those remaining were to become ever larger ("biggest is best" was the dictum) and, in the main, would be non-denominational. Our beloved college eventually closed but many of the buildings of Culham still stand: it became a European School serving the families of scientists working at nearby Harwell and the Culham Laboratories. So successful has it been that many other local families fight tooth and nail to get their children accepted there too – particularly if they like the idea of them taking the Baccalaureate exams.

In the light of some of today’s problems it’s a salutary lesson to look back to 1949, and the dedication of new building extensions to the college. In his speech the Bishop of Bristol, Dr Cockin, said that the Church authorities were "…..profoundly convinced of the value of Church training colleges and are determined to save them. We believe there is a wider issue at stake. We know something of forces by which not only Christian education, but Christian culture and civilisation, are threatened today. In the task of maintaining that Christian culture Christian education has a part to play." How astute an observation that was, looking back on what has happened in almost sixty years.

When we went into teaching it was regarded as a job for life: information published recently indicates that today’s primary school teachers have a teaching-life expectancy of eight years. I have no doubt it is far less for some in secondary education!

A teacher stood at the Pearly Gates,

His face was worn and old.

He stood before the man of God,

For admission to the fold.

"What have you done," St Peter asked,

"to gain admission here?"

"I’ve been a teacher, sir," he said,

"for many a long, long year."

The Pearly Gates swung open wide,

St Peter rang the bell.

"Come in," he said," and choose your harp.

You’ve had enough of hell!"