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That was the first time, that must have been the first time, yes, hitching there, here, that is, along the Great North Road, or was it, yes, I re- member, three of us, Richard, who was experienced, very, at hitching, as soon as we were out, on the outskirts, Barnet or some nowhere place like that, said that it would be better if we split up, he on his own, he decided, and Rhiain and I. Rhiain, white deadpan makeup thinly all over her small face, lips as well, redhaired, thin, so sharp, clever, Welsh and upperclass, I thought, accepted this reasoning, as well, and Richard walked off ahead of us, on a straight stretch, the verges battered, moulded into round-shouldered walls by lorry tyres, the tough grass black and grey and khaki: while we stayed, concentrating carefully, not talking, as I remember, and as traffic was passing us before Richard, a lorry stopped for us first, after a very short time, I think, and Rhiain, was it, asked the driver to pick up Richard as we came to him, and he did, and we were all three packed into half that cab.                      Still remember the roundabout he dropped us at, remember that occasion each time I have passed it again in the car, since, on my way to wherever, such was the, is the, as it all is, and I think it was a van which finally took us into the city, again after a very short wait, again we were lucky, in this respect, the three of us, student magazine editors, feeling that important, on our way to visit our printers in that, this midlands city.

Tony we first met because                             it must have been connected with staying the night or nights at the university union, with whom London had a reciprocal agreement to the effect that students were accommodated, as we were, on visits to and from, more from outside to London, I should imagine, but why, than more London to the midlands, or anywhere else, as we were, that first time.                                       Do not remember visiting the printers on that occasion, though we must have done, that was the reason for going, as I do remember, very well, other visits to them, on other occasions, particularly with her, at least once, with Wendy, later, that is.            But this Union was a new building, just, having unnecessarily wide corridors, perhaps, enormous rooms for relaxation, spongy new armchairs, all the contemporary furnishings, such that we, as students from London, from the discomforts of ad hoc misplanning at our own college, felt out of place, very, awkward even, so much so. But they, the students there, seemed to like it, were at home there, naturally, seemed to treat theirs much the same as we treated ours, casually, put up with the opulence, kicked it around.                            Walking at night with the other two along paths, through copses carefully left in what was originally an estate of the landed provincial gentry, talking of ideas for the magazine, trying to give them some of my own enthusiasm, them not responding, then, as I had hoped they would, perhaps because I was initiating, was editor, perhaps not, but they did later respond, we worked very well together, later.                         No question of sex with Rhiain, for me, for Richard either, as I remember, I wonder why, perhaps because she was so forbidding, in that respect, no, forbidding is not the word, so upperclass, so          so that I did not like, or Richard, to approach her for it, in relation to her that is, sex, though we often enough talked about it in relation to other people, or in the abstract, ha, told funny dirty jokes, probably, no, certainly, as I remember. And hitching on the way home again, Rhiain it was who flung up a long arm at the back of one of many cars that refused us and screamed theatrically and in that accent, Cunt!                        But it was good together, I think, that visit gave our corporate editorship of the magazine a direction and an easy purpose, which was to better their university magazine, our hosts', which was poor, gave us at the same time confidence that we could certainly do better than that ourselves. And Tony agreed with us that theirs was bad, this was one of the things we talked about a lot, for long periods, how to make a university magazine as good as the potential of its contributors, how the generality of students looked upon it, he would use a Johnsonian word like generality, how the embryo politicians who occupied Union offices thought of it. And that

There was a great long bar, I remember, in their Union, where some of these discussions, at least, took place: like a monastery refectory, beech slatted tables and chairs, and, yes, it was called, quaintly, the Buttery, the Buttery!         Wodges of sandwiches for snack lunches, yes, a curious place, rural, ha, anachronistic, obviously, but what? Not even well done, of its kind, not even carried out with any sort of conviction, just woolly thinking by a certain kind of architect, those who get too many of the commissions,   or   group   of   architects,   anonymous.   But   the   place made—not holy, but in a way acceptable by our discussions there. In retrospect. He had that sort of mind, Tony, that could marshall an argument methodically, both or all sides, yet leave you quite clear as to which he advocated, supported, and why. Though for me he was sometimes too slow, allowing too little for what I knew, too little for what I could understand without having to have it spelt out for me. In this he was a pedagogue, I suppose, though I never did understand whether he wanted to be a scholar or a teacher, to love learning for its own sake or to pass it on, for its own sake. Certainly he loved talking about his work, but discussing such things rather than telling one things one did not know, one, the systole and diastole of informed conversation, as it might be, perhaps.

He was easily the most interesting of those we met on that first occasion, don't even remember the others, he showed us round their university, told of their subsidized magazine economics, of the kind of struggles he saw going on around him, of the kind in which he was one way or another involved: And in which we too were involved, in our own college: of the political apathy of their students, as of ours: and all this talk between us was continued that evening, early evening was it, each evening, how long were we there, when we went to a pub or pubs in the city, and met Tony's wife June, who listened like the rest of us to her husband's discourse, intellect, understanding, and we, probably he, perhaps I, I would not care to take credit, came up with the idea of starting a pan-universities magazine which would put all or some of these things right, as it were, ha, and we, that is Tony and I, for the others were not as keen as I was, agreed to talk it out by letter, to decide it, work it out, and there we left it, on that occasion.                                    We left them in that central square, Council House, yes, to catch a bus which would take us to the outskirts of the city on a main road for London. And we had asked him to be a guest contributor to our magazine, to write as he had talked, Tony.