‘Oh, I dunno. I’ve been here all my life, as well you know. They’re not much different from your year, or any year. When I first come here it was top hats and frock-coats on Sunday and parading up and down the Broad Walk; then it was riding-breeches and fox-terriers; then it was Oxford bags and bull-terriers. After the war it was them blue demob suits, then tweed jackets and flannels; then straw bashers and blazers come back in and then it was jeans and bare feet and now it’s beards and beads and probably tomorrow it’ll be top hats again. Only thing I got against this lot is they will eat chocolate-bars with their little gills of beer, and they spend half their money on the french-letter machine in the Junior Common Room. They should be drinking their beer and rowing their boats and learning their books; there’s plenty of time for all that sex when they’ve got their degrees.’

‘Just so,’ I said. I bade him good night, donned my gown and set sail for the SCR.

Dryden was profuse in his apologies for not having met me at the station.

‘I do hope Margate found you without difficulty?’

‘Margate? No, it was a rum chap called Francis.’

‘Yes, that’s right, Francis Margate. A very nice boy. Brightest Viscount I’ve taught for years.’

‘I hope your, ah, squitters are better, John? Your pupil seemed to be concerned about you.’

‘Oh, goodness, they don’t trouble me, I’ve had them for years, it’s the port here, d’you see, worst port in Oxford, don’t know why I stay. I’ve had splendid offers from all sorts of places, Sussex, Lancaster, Uganda – all sorts of places.’

‘They all sound much the same to me. What, in fact, did prevent you from meeting me?’

‘Oh, I had luncheon at one of those women’s colleges, can’t recall the name, they get you frightfully drunk, you probably know, shocking lot, boozers every one. So I felt a little tired after luncheon and Francis hadn’t his essay ready so I offered to let him meet you instead.’

‘Just so,’ I said. (I find that I say ‘just so’ often in Oxford, I wonder why that is?)

He then gave me a filthy glass of sherry without a word of apology and led me up to the Warden so that I might pay my respects. I paid them.

‘How nice,’ the Warden said with apparent civility, ‘to see an old member.’

To this day I cannot be sure whether it was a gibe or simply an unfortunate turn of phrase.