The Cambridge Story

My school has been sending people with no particular talent to Pembroke College (the original, and the best) since it was founded in 27 B.C. It seemed only natural that I should do so, particularly as the admissions tutor was an old boy, and my school had been giving money to the college since time immemorial. Naturally, I passed the "entrance examination" with flying colours.

Picking a subject out of thin air, I chose Mathematics, primarily becuase
the Mathematics department was closest to the college, and no essays are
involved. Little did I expect hard sums, extremely difficult equations, and endless simple harmonic motion. Still, I passed, and I could have chosen to be a Natural Scientist. Yuck.

Going up to Pembroke was a revelation. Happily reaquainted with my friend Mr Al. C. Hol, given a government grant to do it, and without the pressure of having to do any work for at least three years, I of course naturally decided not to waste a single moment of my time at Cambridge, and then ignored that by signing up to the Pembroke College Winnie-the-Pooh Society, CULES, the Spanish Inquisition, and other expertly crafted time wasting pursuits.

Ah, but the people I met along the way. Losers and merchant onanists the lot of them. Some of them have web pages- Andrew Grantham, David Henderson, Magnus Huckvale to name a few. My photo album even has pictures of some of them, although please don't expect beautiful people doing beautiful things. Life doesn't work like that.