Yesterday was a beautifully sunny early spring day on the campus of the University of Sussex, where I worked for the last time. Daffodils, crocuses, iris and snowdrops all flower at once. I can never decide which season suits Spence's campus best, in its natural hollow on the South Downs. Autumn, when I came, in October 2002 for an interview, is just as lovely. See TimBrighton's photographs on Flickr for something of the feel of it
Both days, yesterday and that interview, were Fridays and, as menu compilers are slaves to tradition, on both days I ate fish and chips and apple crumble for lunch, a timeless meal that would certainly have been served in my own student days over thirty years ago. Sussex would not have me then, though no university would, as I discovered later that my headmaster had described me in his reference as an 'intellectually arrogant Bolshevik'. I complained, got him to tone down his description of me, waited a year and applied again, but wound up at Kent instead.
The Human Resources department sent my a letter instructing me to ring payroll for my last salary and P45; payroll seemed to now nothing of this and said I would have to wait till the end of the month. HR also demanded the return of my identity card.
This is dispiriting stuff, but more than compensated for by the kindness of my former colleagues in the Sussex Language Institute. who marked my departure with a touching ceremony, drinks, a meal, a beautiful card, and a deluge of thoughtful presents.
