RSMA Newsletter December 2002

rsm newsletter

Newsletter of the Retired Senior Members of Homerton College, Cambridge. December 2002

“the buck stops here� tributes to Alison Shrubsole & Mary Feaver marathon adventures and more...

a word from the editor

Newsletter of the Retired Senior Members of Homerton College, Cambridge Chair: John Ball Secretary: Trish Maude Treasurer: George Hubbard Committee Members: Pat Cooper, Elizabeth Edwards, Sally Purkis Newsletter editor: Philip Rundall Contributers: David Dry, Elisabeth Brewer, Helen Bunton, John Murrell, George Hubbard, Mike Carr, John Hammond, Alison Wood, John Ball, Hilary Campbell, Muriel Cordell and Agnes Whyte, Philip and Patti Rundall.

Design and layout: Patti Rundall Publishers: Brilliant Artists If you have an idea for an article or story, send your text to Philip (in plain text or Word) by email or on a computer disc. Photos or other illustrations are all very welcome.

Here is the address to send to: Philip Rundall, 34 Blinco Grove, Cambridge, CB1 7TS. Tel:01223 240483 email: philip@rundall.co.uk

Dear Readers Welcome to the Christmas issue of the RSM newsletter. I believe we all shared a great sense of loss when we learnt of the death of Alison Shrubsole. I am therefore pleased that this issue contains several pages of personal memories and tributes to this remarkable woman. Many of us were also sad to hear of Mary Feaver’s death and on Page 11 you will see some tributes to her.

I would like to thank all those who sent in material. Indeed, we received so much that John (Ball) and I felt that some of it should be held over to form the basis of the next issue. Many of the pieces focus on retirement in one way or another, an area we are all eminently qualified to comment on, so the next issue can be a ‘Retirement Special’. We will also include some of the wonderful memories of Westy which you have sent in.

It saves me an awful lot of time if you can email or submit material on a computer disc. If the technology is not an option for you, then I’m happy to receive a hard copy if its a relatively short piece. I’m a slow typist!

Don’t forget to send illustrations (which can all be scanned). Pictures make the newsletter so much more interesting and more enjoyable for Patti, who has the job of doing the layout. The last thing we want is for the newsletter to remind us of Academic Board papers or indeed anything else that turned up in our pigeon holes in the old days! There is further guidance regarding submitting material on the left side of this page.

So sit back with a mince pie, have a good read and a wonderful Christmas.

Philip

contents

Some thoughts by John Hammond Page 6

Tributes to Alison Shrubsole by The Other Place by Alison Wood David Dry, John Murrell, George Page 7 Hubbard, Elisabeth Brewer, Helen Bunton and other RSM members.

Tributes to Mary Feaver by John

Ball, Muriel Cordell and Agnes

Pages 3, 8, 9 &10 Whyte Page 11 A Marathon Adventure by Mike Noticeboard Page 12 Carr Page 4

rsm newsletter, December 2002, page 2

Alison Shrubsole

Photo: Bill Palmer

7th April 1925 - 4th October 2002

a tribute by David Dry (a friend) read at her funeral

I

t seems only a short while ago that we celebrated the life of Alison’s wonderful husband George. In fact it was just over seven months ago that he died.

By that time Alison had become extremely tired, having been brave and stalwart throughout his difficult illness.

She was the youngest daughter of Stanley Shrubsole, a Congregationalist minister, and Margaret Cheveley, a bank cashier and suffragette. Her parents had a strong faith, liberal convictions, and sense of service – qualities Alison inherited in full measure.

She was educated at Ipswich High School for Girls (1930-1935), Milton Mount College (1935-1943), Royal Holloway College (1943-1945) and the Institute of Education (1945-1946) in the University of London (where she graduated with honours in history), and the Institute of Historical Research (1946-1952).

History led to archaeology, which in due course led to a slight confrontation

with a Kenyan customs officer when he found archaeological teaching materials in her luggage: the bones of a Roman baby!

She taught at Mary Datchelor Girls’ School in Camberwell (1946-1950) and was a lecturer in history at Stockwell College, Bromley (1950-1957). She was the founding principal of Machakos Training College, Kenya’s first training college for African women, serving 15 different tribes (1957-1963). Alison and her early students literally built Machakos from scratch. She also built a giant fly to educate the local people in the need for hygiene. The giant fly was not her most successful visual aid because the tribal chief assured her that his people had no need of hygiene since they did not have flies that big.

Alison met George Hilton-Brown, her future husband, when he was District Commissioner for Machakos. When Alison marched into his office demanding water for her

students George tried to brush her off (a mistake he never made again) and then said, “I’ll give you water if you give me a date.” On that first date, they talked non-stop for 30 hours. Alison knew George was right for her!

She returned to England in 1963 to be Principal of Philippa Fawcett College, expanding it from 200 to 650 students. She was Principal of Homerton College, Cambridge from1971-1985. Through her persistence and diplomacy and, she would insist we acknowledge, through the help of many friends, Homerton was made an integral part of Cambridge University, and a Batchelor of Education was established as a university degree.

For these and her many other contributions to education, Alison was made a CBE. She retained a keen sense of obligation toward her family and friends, no matter how demanding her work load.

For 13 years at the height of her career, she looked after her aging mother, postponing marriage until after her mother’s death.

Alison and George married in 1983 and she moved to Spain in 1985, entering enthusiastically into the life of Rubite, her adopted village in the Alpujarra. Although “low church” in upbringing, she regularly attended the Catholic Church in Rubite, demonstrating her open mindedness.

Indeed, she studied that extraordinary extension of Christianity called “A Course in Miracles” and latterly the “Conversation with God” books. These – together with the endless debates with George, who of course professed to be an atheist - clarified her belief system. This must have contributed to her composure in those last days.

Finally, I would like to say that Alison showed us in those final days that she was a woman who, as she lay dying, could express more with her eyes of what it is to be human than most people can while they are alive and well and with all the words in the world at their disposal.

See pages 8, 9 and 10 for triibutes from RSMs.

rsm newsletter, december 2002, page 3

a marathon adventure

by Mike Carr

I

t arose from a

casual conversation in the reprographics room about“how we should get out and exercise more.” I mentioned that in my college days I ran crosscountry during the winter but these days mowing the lawn was about as much as I could manage. Next day Janet, the geography technician, brought me the London Marathon magazine which had been sent to her husband.

Its entry form for 2002 included a series of age boxes. The last one, “tick if you are over 70 years,” made me wonder. Would I manage 26 miles?

Never! Then I noticed boxes for estimated time.

The last one was for 6 hours plus. That’s about 4 miles per hour. I might just manage that. Shades of youth and flights of fancy invaded my sleeping hours. Then I decided: no harm in sending in an entry form. In mid December I received a letter stating that I’d been successful in the draw for the 1,000 places reserved for charities (even though

I hadn’t specified a charity on the form). I decided to get down to some training and, if I felt rejuvenated enough, to run on behalf of a charity that our daughter Jayne is involved with: the Avonsdale Aids Task Force in Zimbabwe. This helps families living in Mabvuku, a very poor district of Harare, who have lost parents through Aids.

The magazine ‘Running World’ had a training schedule which claimed to ‘get you round’ in 5 and a half hours. Initially I could barely jog beyond 200 yards before taking a walk, but after about a fortnight I found I could manage a mile jogging followed by 100 yards walk and this became my regular pattern over the training distances. Most of the runs were either from Fulbourn up the Roman Road and back early in the morning or in the afternoons round the college field circuit where I noticed I gradually wore out a path in the grass.

By the middle of March I had sufficient confidence to think I might make it

rsm newsletter, December 2002, page 4

round the London circuit.

I was three quarters of a stone lighter but there was fear in some quarters that my greatly increased intake of Sports Lucozade was making me hyper active!

About three weeks before the event I received another Flora London Marathon magazine with a map of the route and further instructions.

Besides watering places of both kinds, all the pubs on the route seemed to be indicated! Was there an alternative of a pubcrawl to the actual run?

Apart from one or two light training runs I spent the last fortnight contacting family, relatives and friends, including college and RSM friends, and raising sponsorship money. My initial target had been £500 but the encouragement and support I received was amazingly warm and generous, becoming the greatest incentive I could ever have hoped for to complete the marathon. By the day itself sponsorship had reached about £150 per mile, thanks to

everyone contributing.

On the eve of the great event, after a walk for a pasta meal in a local pub, I returned to my B&B and got ready for the morning, checking my running kit. Yes, I remembered the 4 safety pins for my running number and managed to follow the diagram showing how to thread the chip into my running shoes. Bed at 8 p.m. but would I sleep, butterflies and all? Amazingly I did, until 6 a.m.

At the Blackheath start a vast ‘swoom’ of competitors stretched in front of us and in the distance fireworks went off as Paula Radcliffe and the other women streaked off.

Meanwhile in the last pen we were a motley crew – some veterans in age like me and some wearing a variety of bizarre garbs for charities – dustbin bag vests, humpty dumpty, the old lady in a shoe and so on.

Then it was like an engine shunting. We found ourselves shuffling forward, squeezed together – the space widened to

allow a quicker shuffle and then, as the jam loosened, we broke into a loose jog, and then we emerged on the road out of the park into a more rhythmic, steady stride. It was exhilarating. I realised I felt good - it was a lovely sunny morning and everyone at this stage was in high spirits and the roadsides were crowded with well-wishers. Down into Greenwich where we were joined by a stream of runners entering the main road from the other starting point. It was crowded and my main fear became one of being tripped as we jockeyed for position.

My running schedule had “gone out of the window.” I was past the 8 mile arch and had not stopped for the intermediate walk as intended. I still felt OK and was astounded to find myself alongside a sub 5 hour running group, including a blind runner, Batman and Elvis Presley and, by the side of me, a young runner towing an invalid chair complete with occupant! My first doubts

crept in as I entered Docklands. There the course is a loop and as we entered it there were the front-runners coming out of Docklands, having already done the 8 miles we still had to do. This was daunting but we pressed on with the occasional comfort stop.

There was rising ground in front and in company with many more I slowed down to a walk. This felt better but it was a struggle after that to raise a jog. The distance of jogging became progressively shorter and the walks longer. My muscles ached and the action had gone out of my legs. Once out of Docklands the crowds were again there and increasing. There were groups of cheer leaders, a Salvation Band playing ‘Onward Christian Soldiers’ and the news that Paula Radcliffe had won the women’s marathon put new heart into we who were flagging.

The sight of runners with disabilities still pressing on, the humour and companionship plus the encouragement of dense

crowds on either side kept us going to the Embankment and the last stretch. More and more bands, cheer groups and smiling faces, but it’s a long haul along the Embankment. I glanced at my watch – incredibly I might make still make around 5 hours 30 minutes if I hurried. I was feeling cold - too many run through showers - but I broke into a ragged jog with leadened feet – then we were into Birdcage Walk. A sudden shout reached me – “Come on Dr. Carr!!!” – it was coming from a group of attractive ladies, none of whom I thought I knew, but how nice!

There was Buckingham Palace and Zena my wife and Sally said they would be on the railings there! I heard them shout but could not see them. Round the corner and there in front was the archway and finish – I managed a smile for the official cameraman.

Thanks to Zena, my family, my generous sponsors, the cheering crowds and the companionship of the other

runners, I had made it. It was a wonderful feeling – up on the duckboards, my running chip is snipped off. I collect my medal and the goodie bag of rare delights (deodorant, razor, apple, water, sandwich and chocolate wagon wheel! – just water please). On through the crowds to Horse Guards Parade, on to the meeting point for the Carrs. I sank down by the wall next to another tired runner.

It had been a great experience but would we repeat it? As we struggled to get tracksuit bottoms on we thought not. We made our way to Westminster Tube Station and I was pleased to see I was not the only one hobbling with stiffness and holding on to the railings as we descended the station steps. A cup of tea did wonders for me at Kings Cross Station plus Zena and Sally’s delight that I had made it round.

And what about the mystery of the group of attractive young ladies urging me on at Birdcage Walk? They got off the train at Cambridge Station.

rsm newsletter, december 2002, page 5

some thoughts after a visit to Stones River National Battlefield, Tennessee

by John Hammond

I

n the spring of this year, whilst in the USA, I visited the Civil War Battleground of Stones River near Murfreesborough, Tennessee. The battle between the Federal [Northern] troops and those of the Confederate [Southern] forces took place on New Year’s Eve 1862 and the 2 January 1863. Colleagues will recall that one of the central issues of this Civil War was the freedom of the Afro-Americans [blacks]. The South wanted to keep them as tied-servants, whilst the North advocated freedom.

No Afro-Americans took part in the fighting though some were part of the servant retinue of the Southern Command. This was a Civil War between Whites; the Federal troops numbered 43,000 whilst the Confederates numbered 38,000. The battle divided families, there being records of brothers and nephews on opposing sides meeting each other on neutral ground on New Year’s Day when neither side intended to fight.

This bloody battle was

tactically indecisive when the Confederates withdrew to Chattanooga.

On 2 January the Confederates lost 1800 men in a matter of minutes with the first attack. Over the two days of the battle there were 13249 Federal causalities and 10266 Confederates.

That evening at Dinner, following the visit, I was asked where my hosts had taken me that day and I recounted my impressions of Stones River.

Surprisingly it turned out that around the table there were people whose ancestors had fought in that Civil War, some at Stones River. Family histories had been handed down through the two generations, each family with its own memories.

There was no animosity in the conversation but a consensus of the futility of

such armed combat, especially relevant in Tennessee where one questions just how free are the present AfroAmericans?

A few days later I was reading about the trial of Slobodan Milosevic at The Hague. There was a woman who initially had agreed to give evidence against him and then hesitated. The reason for her hesitation was not that of her own safety but what might happen to her grandchildren, two generations hence. She did eventually give her evidence hoping that people would be more civil to one another in the future. At the same time I read of the conflict in Belfast where Protestant families were preventing Catholic children getting to their primary school.

The children eventually

ran the gauntlet under armed escort. These small children are still suffering from the hatred engendered from two or more past generations.

It would be wonderful if one could draw any conclusions from these observations. Much effort and money has been spent in Northern Ireland setting up cross-cultural youth clubs and integrated schools. Perhaps money and effort could be spent in setting up cross-cultural community centres for parents and grandparents in the hope that this would bring influence on the present generation who might then be less inclined to follow what were family traits.

From Battle of Stone Rover near Murfreesborough, Tenn., by Kurz & Allison, 1891

rsmnewsletter, newsletter,December December2002, 2002,page page6 rsm

the other place

by Alison Wood

T

oday I attended a graduation ceremony in the Sheldonian Theatre. As usual with these celebrations, it was a happy time and, on a beautiful sunny day as the students filed in from the Bodleian Library quadrangle looking so young and wearing their newly acquired hoods, my emotions were as strong as ever. I got my own degree with the same Latin words in the same building, and Susannah, my younger daughter’s degree was also awarded in the Sheldonian in 2001.

The students I saw graduate today were from Westminster Institute of Education where I have been teaching, part time, since my “retirement” from Homerton in 1998.

I had been at Homerton for so long (30 years) I could not have imagined four years ago that I would feel an accepted part of the furniture in a different institution.

Sometimes I feel disloyal to Cambridge, and to Homerton in particular, but I have really enjoyed my teaching at Westminster.

It is a privilege to work part time and be able to do the job properly. My old favourite, the PGCE course continued to be my main teaching commitment until the summer of 2002 when, with my 65th birthday approaching, I felt it was time to break the ties before I passed my sell-by date. It has been less painful than I expected because Helen Glasspoole, who was in my last Professional Group at Homerton and has done 5 years of teaching, travelling the world, writing books for teachers (thanks to Penny Coltman) and working with the BBC, has been appointed to our maths department and is doing the work I was doing last year. How’s that for continuity? Helen is doing a splendid job - clearly well taught!

Although the PGCE was my first love, I have become involved with another very interesting group of students. Many of you will remember “Group 7”, all mature students, who were doing the Certificate course at Homerton when I first started there in 1968. We

have a similar group; they are LSAs undertaking a 4 year “Work Based” B.Ed. course - a really hard way to get a degree.

They attend College on Thursdays throughout the term, come in on every third Saturday and the whole of half term for four years. With a full 9.30 5.00 day they notch up the same number of hours as full time students on a three-year course. They continue as LSAs working at least three days a week. I have taught them Maths for three years and Professional Studies for two years. The average age is about 42 and we get on like a house on fire. They started with no study skills, and poor academic self-confidence.

It is amazing how they have developed. They are now worried about how they will cope without studying, and many plan to start MAs and do action research in the classroom when they start as teachers in January. Two have had articles published in educational journals.

I also continue to do school experience supervision and know as

many schools and teachers in Swindon as I used to know in Peterborough.

During my four years here we have seen a huge change and I cannot think why I allowed myself to be put through this upheaval when I had, nominally retired. In September 2000, the College, an old style College of Education whose degrees were ratified by Oxford University (hence the Sheldonian ceremony) but an independent Methodist foundation with no status in the University of Oxford, merged with Oxford Brookes University. I now work for “Westminster Institute of Education, Oxford Brookes University” - a bit of a mouthful on the phone but a compromise title so neither institution felt excluded. Overnight the number of staff and students on site doubled.

The enlarged Maths Department all get on well and we all respect one another - thank goodness.

Perhaps I would have bowed out sooner had this not been the case.

continued on page 12

rsm newsletter, December 2002, page 7

“the buck stops here” tributes to and memories of Alison Shrubsole

by John Murrell, George Hubbard and Helen Bunton

D

ame Beryl was a difficult act to follow, but knowing that she had been hand-picked by her predecessor must have given Alison some comfort. Nevertheless, she came knowing that she was expected to do something that the Dame had not managed – the fuller integration of Homerton into the university. Fortunately for Alison, and for us, she had the full support and great respect of the new Professor, Paul Hirst.

She had so many exceptional qualities both as a person and as a leader, but for me there were two which I found most impressive.

Firstly, the ability to introduce new members of staff (sometimes nearly twenty) with a speech in the Combination Room.

She knew the name of each new member and their position in the assembled group. Along with the welcome, came a brief summary of their background and expected contribution to college.

This was always done in a friendly, gentle style, but without a single note or prompt and never a single error or hesitation.

As teachers, we knew that this performance was just the tip of the iceberg and rested on the hours she would have spent beforehand memorising and rehearsing.

She also had that rare ability to spot when a private word of appreciation, praise or support was needed and to give it. Several times during my time under her principalship, and especially as director of postgraduate studies, I was boosted in times of stress by an unexpected handwritten note, which told me that my efforts were appreciated. I still treasure those notes, as I do her regular letters from Spain.

I remember meeting her by chance, just before college started, on her return from the vacation after her mother had died.

She told me with delight that she had finally said “Yes” to the man who had proposed to her twentyfive years earlier and that they were to be married on Gibraltar - “Just like John and Yoko!” Having waited so long, she had also decided to spend what was left of her time with her George. The final line of her farewell speech was a classic example of

rsm rsmnewsletter, newsletter,December December2002, 2002,page page8

her quietly, impish wit. In announcing that she would be living on a rabbit farm in Spain she said, “So now I have a new appreciation of the phrase ‘The buck stops here’.”

I saw her a couple of years ago when she invited Anne and me to dine with her at the Ancient Shepherd in Fen Ditton.

Anticipating that wine might flow we took a taxi, expecting her to do the same. That meal is a wonderful last memory.

Wine did flow, as did laughter and conversation on every issue past and present. We really put the world right that night. At closing time we found that she had come by car and was insistent on giving us a lift home. Rightly or wrongly, we accepted her argument that she had driven all the way from Spain and might make it safely to Cambridge. As always she delivered on her promise. Heaven has suddenly become a place worth thinking about now that Alison is in residence.

John Murrell l Alison had been Principal of Homerton for just a few years when I joined her as Bursar

in the mid-70s. I was immediately struck by her distinctive style of leadership and genuine concern for the wellbeing of all her colleagues and students.

Without trying, she was entirely responsible for changing my chauvinist views, still quite widely held in those days, about women in authority.

Though I have long since come to accept and indeed to welcome the concept (my wife subsequently became one of the first women to be ordained to the priesthood of the Church of England) I have to say that Alison remains to my mind quite unique in the way in which she always exercised her management with such grace and, dare one say, femininity.

I saw a good deal of Alison at work outside College - in the offices of the Department of Education and Science and at various conferences and meetings organised by the then Association of Voluntary Colleges. She was highly regarded by her fellow Principals

and by civil servants for her unerring sound judgement, integrity and courtesy. In College, of course, she excelled at bringing the best out of everyone, a skill invariably exercised with a keen sense of humour.

In the ten years or so I was privileged to work with her I think I only once ever heard Alison express criticism of any of her colleagues. In this, as in other things, she was surely unique. She was essentially an enabler and an encourager but her confident exterior perhaps disguised a sensitivity which sometimes caused her pain.

I well recall early one evening after a difficult college committee meeting. It had been our miserable task, for financial reasons, to steer through a decision to lay off all the college cleaners who were above the normal age of retirement.

Many of these people had been working at Homerton for years, were doing a good job and, we knew, would be desperately sad to leave. The decision had gone through, in the face of much criticism.

One senior colleague had accused Alison of being uncaring. That she certainly never was. The accusation had been unfair and it had stung. I came upon Alison alone in her room that evening in tearful self examination.

That, as much as any of the many happy occasions we shared, spoke powerfully to me of this good woman who cared so much. One of my many

joys at Homerton was to write to the Trustees to convey the news of Alison's marriage to George. What a surprise and what outpourings of happiness it produced!

Truly a measure of the respect and affection in which she was held by all who knew her.

Others will know more of her work in Africa and at Phillipa Fawcett College where, I remember her telling me, one Ken Livingstone had been a student of hers! For me, she was a model 'boss' and always a good friend.

In bringing me to Cambridge she changed my life and that of my family significantly and for this, like many others, I shall always be grateful to her and treasure the memory of what she herself referred to when she left as "our stint together".

George Hubbard l Alison was a highly respected Principal, who was wise in her actions and very human towards all members of college, from the most senior lecturer to the household staff. She had a great sense of humour and could keep us laughing at the ridiculous. At her retirement party, and by this time married to a rabbit farmer, she said some things would still be the same, as “the buck stops here.” They had only three bucks and when introduced to the does they were all different. The most promiscuous would charge in and take as many does as he could, the next

would bristle his whiskers and go in selectively, whilst the last would wait timidly until the until the mood of the others spread to him.

I got to know her well after she retired to Spain, and I visited her regularly over fourteen years.

I came to know of her great spiritual depth after she had walked the Pilgrim Way (el camino) to Santiago de Compostella.

In talking about its implications we developed a considerable empathy.

Her deep Christian faith was at the root of her commitment to other people, and she always seemed to give more than she received.

Wherever she was she found an outlet for serving others. Shortly after arriving in Rubite she found herself helping out the Roman Catholic church, playing their elderly organ until they could find their own organist. She said that to pedal it she needed the stamina of a rally cyclist!

This must be a first for a confirmed Protestant!

She noticed that the Cruz memorial garden in their village had been left to go wild, so she set about restoring it herself and soon had a group of young people helping her: the idea of voluntary work was unknown in rural Spain! They weeded, planted and watered, until the place was a centre of beauty and peace. She even persuaded the Mayor of Rubite to supply water to save them carrying it.

These little anecdotes are only to show her lively

activities, but she was always most modest about her activities.

She was good fun and had a warmth of personality which encouraged those who knew her well and made her accessible to those who needed help.

Whenever we met she wanted to hear news of colleagues from college.

I know no better summary of her life than an embodiment of the prayer attributed to St Patrick’s breastplate: God be in my head, and in my understanding, God be in mine eyes, and in my looking God be in my mouth, and in my speaking, God be in my heart and in my thinking; God be at mine end, and at my departing.

Helen Bunton Unsigned notes from the RSM AGM l At one point I was off work with a back problem and laying on the floor of our lounge for three weeks. Alison arrived at lunchtime with a basket containing soup and rolls.

We had a most enjoyable lunch together – me on the floor and Alison in a chair! l Alison Shrubsole was memorably kind to any numbers of staff who were ill or in any kind of personal trouble – being generous in arranging for leave of absence and visiting those just out of hospital at home (bearing a cold roast chicken).

More on Page 10

rsm newsletter, December 2002, page 9

more memories of Alison

by Elisabeth Brewer, Hilary Campbell, Philip and Patti Rundall

A

lison came to Homerton at a critical time for the college, without the advantage of being familiar with the arcane workings of the University of Cambridge.

Her signal success as Principal must have resulted not only from her intelligence, patience and determination, but also from her unfailing sense of humour.

As an example, she told me how, at the beginning of her career in education, she was expected to teach needlework at a time when materials were in very short supply. She had been assigned some yards of cotton with which her class were to make themselves knickers, and this she took home in the evening to cut out in readiness for next day. But when she had completed the task, she found that she had cut out nothing but left legs. (History has not, I think, recorded how she coped with the ensuing disaster.)

Her experience in Africa produced many amusing stories, many of which testified to her resourcefulness. When

a chief wished to show his appreciation of her work by giving her a stool made from the skin of one of his special cows, she was asked to choose exactly which one had the markings which most appealed to her: the poor victim was then led away to be slaughtered. Was it on this occasion that as the guest of honour, she was presented with a dish containing twelve hardboiled eggs, which she was expected to eat on the spot? The whole tribe sat round in a circle to watch her do so. There was no salt, nothing to wash them down. For a moment she was aghast, then she decided to offer them round, and the problem was solved: the gesture was well received.

Despite all the pressures of professional life, Alison looked after her elderly mother until she died, refusing to put her in a home, regardless of the heavy pressures of college life. Her affection and her devotion remained steadfast despite the ravages of Alzheimer’s.

Her sympathetic understanding showed itself in more general

newsletter, December 2002, page rsmrsm newsletter, December 2002, page 10 10

ways, too: she told me that if a student had bad news from home of a family tragedy, she would go and help them pack what they needed so that they could leave at once.

Although she was always kindness itself, her sense of humour could be caustic: I happened to mention to her at lunch that one of my students, suffering from some sort of breakdown, had been told by her psychiatrist that her problems arose from her desire to sleep with her father.“I sometimes think that psychiatrists are madder than the patients they treat”, was her comment.

She was altogether the most delightful, the most vital person under whom I have ever had the privilege of working, and her death is a sad loss.

Elisabeth Brewer l I remember she took the trouble to walk round to my house with a personal message when my husband died and offered me leave of absence indefinitely while he was ill.

HilaryCampbell l Alison’s care and

concern extended to the children of the staff. The annual summer party held outside the Combination Room was very much a part of the friendly feeling that imbued the college during her time.

A more personal memory of Alison was her sympathy when I was taken ill with food poisoning when a gang of us drove down to the wilds of Devon in the college minibus. Throughout the return journey I felt dreadful and I remember Alison trying hard to cheer me up. At one point she initiated a travelling game in which she nominated the olive stone remover as the most useful tool invented by Mankind.

Philip Rundall l Alison used to invite new staff and their partners to dinner. When it was our turn I found she was nothing like the formidable Principal I’d expected. When I asked her for the recipe of the delicious rice dish she announced to everyone that it was from the book, Sex and the Single Girl!

Patti Rundall

tributes to Mary Feaver 8th February 1911 - 12th October 2002

Many members will recall the delight of being a colleague and friend of Mary Feaver, who died recently. Though not an RSM (she retired before we existed) she kept in touch with many Cambridge friends. Trish Maude and Sylvia Williams attended her thanksgiving service in Berrow, Somerset on October 26th. Her painful arthritis in recent years never seemed to dim her spirit as the delightful letter (below) shows.

John Ball

As Head of Department and colleague: Utter integrity, deeply committed to the education of both mind and body and learning through movement; patient, encouraging and positive; generous, receptive, flexible, never prescriptive; great sense of fun, never unkind.

And as a friend: Pure gold; kindness itself; the warmest of welcomes with delicious soup on the hob (she said made from anything and everything!); uncomplaining and undefeated by the pain and limitations of her recent health problems and increasing deafness (see poem); even when housebound, learning painting and new skills; soaking up ideas and inspiration from everyone she met. The last time I saw her (September 29th) we drove to the sands where she loved to walk. She watched a couple practice their golf swing, a family playing tennis and a toddler whose feet were trying to keep up

with its body, which, she said, is how she felt. She had a genius for getting the most out of life by putting everything into it. l

Muriel Cordell

Mary was a born hostess.

Anyone who needed a holiday was welcome: Esme, Miss Skillicorn's maid, who used to check exeats in at night; Miss Jones, the warden at Millbrook (the hostel in Highgate, used when we practiced in London schools); students from Africa and Heather Proctor, a student who helped with tennis and married into Mary's family.

One of her relaxations was Bridge, which we played with Westie in Peggy McCullogh's house. This led to a four with Westie in North Wales and continued for many years after Mary retired. She came from Bedford PE College in 1951/52, when Homerton College ran Emergency Training. At that time PE went into the fourth year. This finished in 1972 when Homerton became an Approved Society of the University of Cambridge. Mary was ideal to work with and loved Homerton. She used to attend the Wessex Group of Old Homertonians with Elspeth Gray.

Agnes Whyte

rsm newsletter, December 2002, page 11

noticeboard

The Other Place: by Alison Wood. Cont’d from Page 7

Other departments have merged less successfully.

The numbers enrolling for a three year BA in Education with QTS course have dwindled but the Work-Based courses, have expanded and become very popular and the PGCE cohort is huge 9 groups of 30 this year.

My group of Work-Based students will be the first and last to obtain Oxford University Degrees. In future they will all be Brookes graduates.

So what about living in Oxford? It is not really very different from Cambridge. I have a small terrace house, new when I moved in 1998, within a mile of the centre but well placed for dog walking being only two minutes from the canal towpath and three minutes from Port Meadow. I can cycle into town though, with the benefit of an OAPs bus pass, am often tempted by public transport. The house has just about doubled in value during the four years I have lived here so was a good

investment. Together with some of my neighbours I have joined the Civic Society which organises lectures on items of local interest and visits to places like the new Said Business School and St Catherine’s College.

My mother is now 100; she has carers to help her and, although completely blind, with poor hearing, no sense of touch, smell or taste, still has all her marbles. Susannah discusses her D.Phil. thesis with her and expects Mum to follow the argument!

We celebrated her 100th birthday with the family and one of my old Homerton students, Rob Asheton, who you may remember.

As I write this I think about Ellie, the older of my two daughters who many of you will know.

Indeed, you may even remember her birth in 1975. She is expecting her first child in the next few days; her partner and father of the child is Paul Dix, an ex Homerton student. I seem to have unbreakable links with Cambridge and Homerton in particular!

rsm newsletter, December 2002, page 12

dates for your diary: coffee morning

Wednesday 18th December from 10.45 am.

John and Jean Ball extend a warm invitation to 5 Strangeways Road.

Please ring in advance on 248203 to let them know you will be coming.

annual dinner

Friday 7th February 2003, details to follow.

Further dates will be sent out in the New Year.

Guests are welcome at all functions except the A.G.M.

Alison Shrubsole’s Memorial day

Saturday 1st March 2003.

Homerton College. As yet there are no further details

annual general meeting .

The AGM took place in College on Friday 11th October. At the start of the meeting we paused to reflect in silence on our own personal memories of Alison Shrubsole.

The meeting proceeded with Treasurer’s Report and thanks to members for Pat Cooper on her work over the past 9 years and to Christine Holroyd for her contribution as auditor.

The position of RSMs in the new College Structure of membership was noted and the amendments to the Constitution were approved. The new committee comprises: Chair John Ball Secretary: Trish Maude Treasurer:George Hubbard Committee Members: Pat Cooper Elizabeth Edwards Sally Purkis.