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pleasant man who commanded by respect and had greatly assisted my tuition
when I had earlier been at Warsash; he had offered personal help, particularly
because I had no previous sailing or boating expertise, which many of the new
cadets already had.

My interview comprised my being told that we were to face both a Liberal
Arts and a professional development curriculum. I wasn’t too sure what ‘liberal
arts’ encompassed, but I first of all declared that drill was a waste of time; nobody
prances around on ships in hobnailed boots, and in my two years at sea I had
seen maybe two salutes in the entire time – the Merchant Marine just wasn’t the
Royal Navy. “There’s going to be drill,” I was told, but of explanation there was
none. I also declared that I saw no need for much tuition, as I was aware that my
brother was going to get a good education, and I thought that this opportunity
to learn good new stuff overrode all other considerations. Besides which, nobody
had ever said that the tickets were mammoth intellectual exercises … I had seen
enough stupidity, even with my limited knowledge, to know that much of what
we were to be taught was just embellished common sense. I could not see why
we could not be taught ethics, economics and some practical medicine (as I had
witnessed, accidents happen at sea, and ships were often at least four days from
a port which boasted a hospital). But my comments seemed to fall upon stony
ground; the Ministry set the educational component, I was told, so I saw that,
despite its being a new type of course, it was already quite hidebound. To allay my
concerns, I was told that a thesis was to be written; some reassurance, I supposed.

The first day of lectures did somewhat encourage me, despite the ‘stand up’
farce. We experienced a new man for General Studies and English. This was Dr
Broomhall, who had nothing of seagoing experience but was a pure academic,
apparently with a Ph.D. from Skopje University. He spoke five languages (presumably
a selection of Balkan tongues, though one could not imagine Macedonian – from
a ‘country’ of only two million or so souls – being of great international value),
was charged with teaching us English and, in general, an understanding of life,
debating, philosophy and ancillary ‘intellectual’ pursuits; frankly, just what I hoped
to gain from the course. David was apparently learning something of the concept
of an epistocracy, and I thought that here was someone who could make me equally
learned; unfortunately, I hoped in vain. But though he had a somewhat effete and
academic demeanour, he was plainly a man of considerable acumen and, without
any effort on his part, worthy of respect; there was no unruliness in his classes,
and he presented a laudable sensibility towards understanding other cultures. He
respected all things Balkan, a region quite outside the scope of British education,
which for obvious reasons paid great obeisance to Asia but almost ignored historical
Thrace and its unique ethnic complexity.

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