(Illustrations: Ponteland college, Rag queen; Val and I; artwork and sculpture)

There’s a line in scripture, in Romans 8.28, which says:

‘All things work together for good to them that love God, to them who are the called according to his purpose.’

If anyone at that point in my life had handed me this text, I would have thrown it back at them; but now on reflection, had I not had such an unhappy first year at college, I may not have been home so many weekends to offer support to my mam. On the other hand, there was nothing ‘good’ about my dad dying, but I did hear that an extractor fan had been fitted in the workshop where he used to work.

I went back to college in the September term, but this time, we students were based at the main college at Ponteland, and I felt much more positive about life there.

Students lived on a grant then, and parents were asked to supplement it, so I had to be really careful with money. It’s so much more of a challenge for students today, who are not so lucky, and end up in a sea of debt before they even begin their careers!

I lived on site, and became part of the college community, joining in with the various sports clubs, particularly badminton. I was chosen for the first team, so my early badminton lessons as a child had paid off! But I was beginning to enjoy the college experience.

Lectures seemed much more interesting, and there was a much better social life.

And yet, at odd moments, often before sleep, grief would catch me unawares. But I found that writing my thoughts down, often in poetry, had a cathartic effect on me, and I was able to get off my chest what I felt about ‘cancer’. and my loss of faith.

I shared this with one of our English tutors, and she asked if she could read what I was writing. Very wisely, once she had read them, she asked me if I wanted her to dispose of them for me, or hand them back. I asked her to destroy them, and I never wrote down any more of those morbid thoughts.

Our college complex had been a children’s home at one time, but now it was a mini village, with accommodation for students all round a central grassed area. The lecture theatres were set apart, but all on the one campus. This whole ethos more to my liking.

I struck up a lovely friendship with Val Croot, who was my room-mate that year.

In 2016, she appeared on the Great British Bake Off, as Val Stones, (her married name), and she was one of their most popular contestants. I’m not surprised given her talent and lively personality.

That year I was chosen as one of ten Newcastle University Rag Dolls, and we all had to ride on a float through the city streets, whilst students collected money for charity, and sold their Rag Mag. The girl who was chosen as the rag queen, was kidnapped by Leeds University, as a publicity stunt, and the rest of us were all asked to draw straws to see who would take her place, and sit on ‘the throne’, on the back of the 'procession lorry'. The lot fell to me, and I was queen for the day! And what an exciting week that was, with free entry to concerts by the Hollies and Mannfred Mann, to name just two!

Bob came up to college whenever he could, and he attended a folk club there, one evening, when I sang for the very first time ‘solo’. I had enjoyed small jamming sessions at the Hydro already, but I hadn’t sung solo in front of so many people, apart from church, where everyone was kind and supportive. Now in the main college, older students were there too, looking on, and it was scary. I tried to sing the song, ‘Donna Donna’, but I was so worked up, that my voice broke in the middle of a high note, so I started the whole song over, but the same happened. Totally embarrassed, I simply hurried off the stage to Bob, took a gulp of his beer, a drink I had never tasted before, and fled from the room. Oh joy!

As a result of that evening, I began to sing regularly, and more confidently, with two friends. Maureen Purvis and Anne Yellowley at the college folk club. (Safety in numbers so to speak.) We sang a whole range of folk songs, and we were also invited to sing at a Billy Botto’s nightclub, Consett, and our repertoire seemed to go down really well, simply because their amplification was top notch. We called ourselves ‘Hydra’, from the Hydro college in our first year.

However, a few months later, riding on our success, we accepted a ‘gig’ at a working men’s club, in Middlesbrough, through a fellow student, and when we got there, and studied their stage, we found no microphones, no amplifiers, nothing. That night in that noisy working men’s club hall, no-one could hear us, so they gave up listening, totally ignored us, and carried on with their loud conversations. It was agonising. We were a total flop. The manager, quite annoyed reprimanded us saying accusingly, “Why didn’t you bring any amplification?”

We had never thought to check whether they had any or not; we were ‘green behind the ears’, we just assumed it was provided. Now I always check out the microphones whenever I’m invited to sing to larger gatherings! But you live and you learn, and hopefully don’t make the same mistake a second time.

My main course was art though, music was merely a ‘sideline’.

In the Art department, we explored a variety of art techniques, but I loved frequenting the metalwork department to experiment with making sculptures using welding techniques, with a wide variety of metal scraps. 

Anne Yellowley, the friend who sang with me, was also a sculptor, but she worked with clay. She captured super likenesses of her subjects, and with photos of various angles, and precise measurements, she produced large 3D statues and busts of people.

She even made a life-sized ‘life and shoulders’ bust of me, and later she asked if I wanted to keep it, but I turned the offer down as I couldn’t envisage putting a head of mine anywhere.

Here was another friend I lost touch with over time. I wonder where she is today, and if that sculpture is still in one piece? Her name now is Ann Wilkinson, but I’ve been unable to trace her too.

Whilst working in the department, it was always a treat to eavesdrop on how other art students, as they explained the essence of their ‘abstract’ work to the lecturer. They waxed lyrical, with such eloquence, it was an art in itself.

One student’s talent really stood out though. He was something of an entrepreneur; a genius really. He produced many ‘accidental’ masterpieces.

We had all been sent off to Newcastle to visit shops and businesses, and to collect whatever we could by way of free scraps, offcuts and unwanted materials, to boost college supplies. I was even allowed access to Freddie Shepherd’s scrapyard for metal.

But this particular student came back with his car full of large polystyrene pieces.

He began gluing them onto the extra-large canvases he had made, and he threw on yellow and black paint, in a most haphazard fashion. Then he donned a mask, and set fire to the front of each one, thankfully, outside! Once he had extinguished the flames, we would hurry outside to see his 'creations' and they were truly amazing! He just knew he was onto a winner, and produced some amazing pieces of art, but after that, whenever we saw him coming with his blowtorch, we would all rush inside and close all the windows.

He sold each one to private buyers, on the understanding that he could have them back at any time for display purposes at exam time. We quietly applauded his ingenuity and business acumen, but I often wonder how his lungs are faring today with all those fumes, even though he worked outside.

Is he famous today? Is he still alive?

This same student was not a character to trifle with; to me, his eyes were 'piercing', rather fierce, and he had strong opinions.

In the Junior Common room, every so often our tutors directed a college debate. Students would sit and listen first to a couple of speakers for the motion, and then to those against it, and once all had put their case, the floor was open for debate.

Now I had never spoken up in such debates, I was far too reserved, and not confident in expressing my views or offer any opinion whatsoever.

But on this particular day I heard that the motion being put forward was:-

‘The 1944 Education Act which states that 'the school day in every school shall begin with collective worship on the part of all the pupils in attendance', should be discontinued, and religion should not be taught in our schools today!

The motion was something like that anyway.

The two main speakers for the motion put it to us, that such practice was merely indoctrination, that school assemblies did not always meet the criteria to be classed as worship, and that religion itself was a human ‘invention’ and thus not of benefit to modern day society. Can you guess who was the most vociferous of these two? Yes, this same student, who was on great form, and spoke out at great length, putting forward a very strong case, that God was dead!

(I wouldn’t have put it past him to have brought the topic up for debate in the first place!)

The speakers who gave their opinion against the motion seemed rather intimidated by him, and didn’t press their case all that forcibly. They didn’t dare enter into much of an argument with him, and not many others in the room spoke up.

So as he summed up, he asked if anyone disagreed with him.

There was silence!

“So!” he went on triumphantly, “No-one wants to speak against what I’ve said, so I propose we put it to the vote, that the motion be approved, that Christian school assemblies AND Religious education be discontinued!”

Once more, there was a deafening silence in that room.

How I suddenly found myself on my feet, I will never know! How my legs supported me, I cannot fathom. But I really couldn’t let him get away with it.

Why on earth was I standing up to speak! Ever since my dad had died, I had given up on God! I was no friend of his whatsoever, but here I was, shaking like a jelly, about to defend His corner. I could feel myself trembling life a leaf. I could not believe that I was about to lock horns with this guy! It felt like an out-of-the-body experience, as if I was outside, looking down at myself.

He turned those piercing eyes slowly in my direction, to see who had dared speak out!

Everyone else watched and waited. What on earth was I thinking of? I cleared my throat and somehow found my voice.

“If a child grows up, without any knowledge of faith whatsoever, without any experience of worship, there is only one choice he or she can make in later life,’ I argued, ‘and that is to not believe in God at all. Shouldn’t a child be able to learn about faith in God in a safe school environment, and be allowed to decide for themselves, after all the subject might never be discussed anywhere else ever, not even in the home?”

I sat down, my face flushed and hot.

‘My opponent had had his say already, and he said no more; and I had nothing further to add.

The vote was taken. The motion was denied! The vote did not go his way that day!

I wonder if God saw in me at that moment, a tiny spark of the kind of person he might be able to call upon in the future to speak out for him?

Just before Christmas, towards the end of 1969, a short way through my second year, Bob and I were shopping in Newcastle. Taking me by the hand he announced, “Come with me, I’m going to buy you a ring!”

‘A ring for Christmas?’ I thought, ‘how lovely!’ He had already bought me one made of marcasites the Christmas before. But when we arrived at the jewellery shop, it wasn’t a Christmas present he was looking at! He was directing me to engagement rings, and was asking me which one I would like to have. I was taken completely by surprise, as he hadn’t even proposed to me! He hadn’t even asked my mother’s permission!

He must have been pretty certain I would say yes to him.

I chose a beautiful ring, of three diamonds, and I gazed at it sparkling on my finger, all the way home! I couldn’t believe it. But even though he didn’t go down on one knee, and ask me to marry him, in the way a girl always dreams, his proposal, done his way, was exciting and funny (and very practical), just like him; this was ‘romance’ to his mind, and it made me feel so special that day.

Mam was really delighted for us, as were Bob’s parents.

But I was, most of all.