Tag: Cambridge

Higher education postcard: Peterhouse, Cambridge

Greetings from Cambridge! Today we’re looking at a college so old it doesn’t even need to be called “college”.

Let’s go back to 1280. Edward I, aka Edward Longshanks, was on the throne. England was calm after a period of internal turmoil; part of the reason for this was wars waged against the Welsh and the Scots. And in Ely, Bishop Hugh de Balsham was petitioning the King.

Successfully, as it turns out. His petition sought permission to evict secular brethren from the Hospital of St John at Cambridge and replace them with “studious scholars”, who would live in accordance with the rules of Merton College in Oxford (hospital meant something different in 1280 – not a medical facility, but guesthouse or almshouse, the hos being the same as in host).

Clearly this was not entirely satisfactory, as in 1284 Bishop Hugh gained another charter which differentiated these scholars from the other residents of the hospital. Reading between the lines, perhaps the hospital wasn’t entirely happy at having the students in it. In any event, Bishop Hugh obviated whatever problems there were by purchasing two houses and providing for a master and fourteen fellows who must be “worthy but impoverished”. The fellows would worship at the Church of St Peter Without Trumpington Gate, and the college thus became Peterhouse. Not Peterhouse College, by the way – just Peterhouse.

And it was thus, founded in 1284, the first formal college in Cambridge, although the university had been going for a few years, and with official status since 1231. It had to wait until 1326 for another college to be founded (Clare College, then known as University Hall), and then by 1352 there were six colleges – enough to organise a league table!

Peterhouse then plodded along. In the maelstrom of Tudor England, its master, Andrew Perne, was skilled at working with the prevailing political and religious opinions. It was said that the letters on the weathervane at St Peters’ Church stood for “Andrew Perne, Protestant”, or “Andrew Perne, Papist”, depending on which way the wind blew. When he was vice chancellor of the university, Perne had the bones of Martin Bucer, prominent protestant theologian and organiser, and later Regius Professor of Divinity, exhumed and burnt in the market square.

Peterhouse was the second building in England to be lit by electric lighting. William Thomson, Lord Kelvin, was a Peterhouse alumnus, and had them installed in 1884, to celebrate the college’s sexcentenary (the building that had them before was the House of Lords, in 1883).

Peterhouse admitted women undergraduates in 1984, seven hundred years after its foundation. (Women were admitted to postgraduate study in 1983, but the poetry of the anniversary required me to focus on undergraduates here. Sorry!) It is fair to say that this places it towards the conservative end of Oxbridge colleges. And in this case it is a literal truth.

Peterhouse became the breeding ground for a generation of right-wing conservative politicians, including the Michaels Howard and Portillo. This is connected to the appointment of Maurice Cowling and Roger Scruton as fellows of the college. The former’s student followers included one who, allegedly, wore a black armband on the anniversary of General Franco’s death.

Peterhouse’s catalogue of alumni includes some very impressive names. Thomas Grey, poet and country-churchyard elegist is one. And then scientists: we’ve seen Lord Kelvin, physicist and mathematician; you can also have James Clark Maxwell, father of electromagnetism. And then add Frank Whittle of the jet engine, and James Mason, of more great films than you can shake a stick at. Five Nobel laureates are associated with Peterhouse, all of them in Chemistry, in 1952, 1962, 1962, 1982 and 2013. Which must be some sort of a record. And maybe scope for a song: “it’s lucky for Peterhouse when the year ends in two.”

We should also note that Peterhouse is potentially an inspiration for the college in Porterhouse Blue, Tom Sharpe’s fairly scabrous look at Cambridge life and politics.

And finally, a snippet from the Illustrated London News on 25 May 1968, announcing the appointment of a new master at Peterhouse.

In this context, there’s nothing particularly noteworthy about Dr Burkill – I just think it is striking that the appointment of a head of college was then considered newsworthy.

Here’s a jigsaw of the postcard. It was posted in Ipswich on 15 September 1905 to Miss E Parfit of Handford Road, Ipswich:

Dear Ethel, Hope you will like this. With love from V.R.

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November 28, 2025
Higher education postcard: Jesus College, Cambridge

In about 520CE, or so the story goes, Radegund was born, daughter of Bertachar, one of three brother kings of Thuringia.

Uncle Hermanfrid, one of the other brothers, killed Bertachar; Radegund moved into his household. Hermanfrid allied with another king, Theuderic, to defeat Radegund’s other uncle, Baderic, and thus became sole King of Thuringia. And in so doing he reneged on an agreement with Theuderic.

I hope you’re paying attention, because there’ll be a short test later.

Now Theuderic was not the kind to forget a slight, and in 531, when Radegund was 11, he invaded Thuringia, with his brother Clothar. They defeated Hermanfrid, and Ragemund was taken into Clothar’s household. She lived in Picardy until 540, when Clothar married her, bringing his total of wives to six. (The other wives were Guntheuca, Chunsina, Ingund, Aregund and Wuldetrada, just in case you think I’m making this up.)

In 545 Clothar murdered Radegund’s last surviving brother, and that was clearly the last straw, as she fled. She sought the protection of the church, and Medardus, Bishop of Noyen, ordained her as deaconess. In about 560 she founded the abbey of Sainte-Croixe near Poitiers, and she died in 567, having reputedly lived an austere, ascetic life, renowned for her healing powers. Or so the story goes.

Now fast forward 600 years or so. Malcolm IV, King of Scotland and Earl of Huntingdon, visited Poitiers, the site of the cult of the now-sanctified Radegund. He gave ten acres of land to found a priory, dedicated to St Mary and St Radegund. And this land was in what would in time become central Cambridge.

Now fast forward another 300 years. The priory now had a – ahem – reputation. John Alcock, Bishop of Ely, in whose see the priory sat, was given permission by Pope Alexander VI and King Henry VII to dissolve the priory. This was in 1496; the later description of the priory as a “community of spiritual harlots” may have been the cause; it may also, of course, have been a post facto justification. In any event, the priory was dissolved and a college founded in its place. The College of the Blessed Virgin Mary, Saint John the Evangelist and the glorious Virgin Saint Radegund, near Cambridge, which is now more commonly known as Jesus College, Cambridge, took over the priory buildings, and away it went.

Bishop Alcock, by the way, gave the college its arms: the three cocks’ heads play on his surname. No sniggering at the back there.

For hundreds of years Jesus was, in essence, a training college for clergy, staying small. But in 1863 Henry Morgan was appointed tutor of the college, and set about his duties with energy. The railway boom at the time meant that some of the original priory lands could be sold, bringing in cash with which Morgan expanded the college: by 1871 there were four times as many students as ten years previously; by 1881 the college had nearly doubled in size again from 1871. And these students would not be confined to those seeking a career in the Church of England.

Let’s have a look at some Jesus College people. (What’s the correct term? Jesuits is logical but it really does have a more specific meaning. Jesusites? Jesusians? I bet there’s a correct term, and I bet someone will comment to say.)

A good place to start is Thomas Cranmer, Archbishop of Canterbury at the time of Henry VIII, and architect of the English reformation. Cranmer may have (but probably didn’t) attended the college as a student, but he was certainly reader in divinity at Jesus from 1517 to 1528. He didn’t keep strong connections to the college after moving into court circles as archbishop, but as he was ultimately executed as a traitor (he backed the wrong team in the post-Edward VI power struggle) this may have been no bad thing, for the college at least.

Let’s then move on to Laurence Sterne, student at the college 1733–37. He became a clergyman, but no-one remembers him for this. Because he arguably invented the English novel, with The Life and Opinions of Tristram Shandy, Gentleman published between 1759 and 1767. If you don’t know it, have a read; it is well worth it. It may change your opinions about just how modern modern writing is.

Next in the roll of honour is Thomas Malthus, student of the college 1784–88 and fellow 1793–1804. As an economist Malthus was influential. In his Essay on the Principle of Population as it Affects the Future Improvement of Society he argued that population growth was unsustainable, because demand for food would inevitably outstrip supply. It is worth noting that the world population at that time was about 800 million; it is ten times that today. And while food is not fairly distributed across the world, neither is there a population crash as Malthus argued there would be.

And now let’s move on to Samuel Taylor Coleridge, romantic poet and opium addict, author of The Rime of the Ancient Mariner and Kubla Khan. Coleridge was a student at Jesus. He developed his opium habit while at college, and in his third year dropped out to join the army, under the assumed name of Silas Tomkyn Comberbache. His brother had to pay a bribe to get him out of the army, and although he returned to Cambridge thereafter he never quite graduated.

In 2019 Jesus appointed its first female master, Sonita Alleyne, having first admitted women as students in 1979. Alleyne was also the first black head of an Oxbridge college, preceding Valerie Amos at University College, Oxford by a year. More generally, the college has a very good run through its history here.

Jesus is a sporty college, and its boat club is very strong. It holds the most headships of the river in the May and the Lent bumps, across both men’s and women’s boats. (I tried to explain about Cambridge rowing a while ago – here’s the link in case you’re interested.)

And here’s a jigsaw of the card – hope you enjoy it!

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September 25, 2025
Higher education postcard: Corpus Christi, Cambridge
Greetings from Cambridge!

The large majority of the old Oxbridge colleges were founded by rich and powerful individuals. One exception to that rule is Corpus Christi College, Cambridge. This was instead founded by (some of) the townspeople of Cambridge, and specifically by the Guild of Corpus Christi and the Guild of the Blessed Virgin Mary. Its mission was to train priests, in a town and country shocked by the impact of the Black Death. And one particular benefactor was notable: Margaret Andrew, who died in 1349 and gave lands to both guilds.

What was a guild? There’s a fabulously helpful website which discusses their origin in Suffolk, and as Cambridge is next door there might not be too much difference. I’ll summarise: the word comes from the Old English term frith-gilds, associations of ten townsmen or villagers, and date from the 800s. These initially were to help enforce the peace – a medieval neighbourhood watch, if you like – but over time their character changed to take on a religious role and to act as a mutual insurance club of sorts, enabling people to have decent funerals, and celebrate saints days and the like. All of this was to help the members spend less time in purgatory after death.

Guilds became associated with specific saints and, later, with specific parish churches. The Guild of the Blessed Virgin Mary probably doesn’t need much explanation. Guilds of Corpus Christi became popular following Pope Urban IV’s founding of the feast of Corpus Christi (the body of Christ) in 1264. Indulgences – get out of purgatory free cards – were granted to those who celebrated it, and so gilds began to be formed to do so.

The love affair between the towns and the college didn’t last long. 1381 was the year of the Peasant’s Revolt, which was very active in East Anglia and Essex, Cambridge’s next-door counties. And in that year a mob from the town led by the mayor of Cambridge ransacked the college, burning books and causing mayhem, in protest against the college’s rapacious behaviour as a landlord. The specific crime was to enforce candle rents – charges payable based upon the number of candles or wax tapers present in their tenants’ homes. And in a broader context of revolt against authority, grievances would easy have been used to fan the flames.

At this time the college, although formally known as The College of Corpus Christi and the Blessed Virgin Mary in the University of Cambridge, was referred to as Bene’t College or Benet Hall. This was because it used the neighbouring St Bene’t’s Church until in 1577 it got its own chapel. Bene’t is short for Benedict, the founder of the Benedictine order, by the way.

The 1500s were notable for the college for other reasons too. In 1544, Henry VIII’s suppression of the monasteries was in full flow. The college’s master, Matthew Parker, obtained Anglo-Saxon manuscripts from several, and left them to the college, making the core of the Parker collection, of which the college is, reasonably, very proud.

In 1569 Queen Elizabeth I imposed a master upon the fellows of the college, removing for a while their right to elect a master. In 1573 the college imposed new rules requiring that Latin, not English, be spoken by scholars during full term. The punishment for transgression was being “beaten at the Buttery hatch”, which sounds both unpleasant and like a top quality innuendo. (Imagine Kenneth Williams saying it while playing Thomas Cromwell in Carry On Henry and try not to smile.)

We saw earlier that the college was founded just after the Black Death; and in 1630 another visitation of the plague took place. It seems that everyone in the college fled, except the master, a Dr Butts, who stayed behind to try to organise relief. The strain of it all was too much: he was found in 1632, having hanged himself.

During the Civil War the Oxbridge colleges – rich foundations with collections of silver – often gave their wealth to one side or the other. Presumably under duress. Corpus Christi bucked this trend, by giving fellows leave of absence, and asking them to take some of the college silver with them for safekeeping, just as someone has to take the primary school hamster home to be looked after over the school holidays. And that is why Corpus Christi’s silverware collection is better than many other colleges today.

The centuries rolled by, as they do. There were new buildings during the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, and college life continued. The nineteenth century saw some evangelical zeal, but the number of students was also falling. Until 1906 Corpus Christi had always been led by a clergyman; the appointment of Robert Townley Caldwell as master. He was a colonel, commanding the 3rd battalion of the Gordon Highlanders in the mid-1890s, and a prominent freemason. He combined this with a career as a mathematician at Corpus Christi. His innovation was to change the policy on recruitment, so that it no longer focused on students who were, or wished to become, clergy. And accordingly the college began to grow again.

In 1953 Francis Crick and James Watson announced their discovery of the double helix at The Eagle, which was – and still is – owned by the College. And the college became co-educational in 1980.

Notable alumni include:
- Christopher Marlowe, who arrived as a scholar at the college in 1580. His mysterious absences and high Buttery bills only add to the suggestion of his intelligence work, alongside his playwrightry (and yes, this is a proper word)
- Basil Henry Liddell Hart, soldier, military historian – especially of the first world war – and theorist
- E P Thompson, historian and titan of the left
- Neil Hamilton, disgraced former politician and minor celebrity.
The college has a splendid history on its website, which has informed much (but not all!) of this blog.

And finally, here’s a jigsaw of the card – enjoy!
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July 10, 2025
Higher education postcard: University of Cambridge, the Senate House

Greetings from Cambridge!

Today’s card shows the Senate House at the University of Cambridge. Building started in 1722, the Senate House opened in 1730, and it was completed in 1768 (yes, that is the right order of events). It was designed by the Jameses Gibbs and Burroughs (the latter being master of Gonville and Caius); woodwork by James Essex the Elder; and ceiling plaster by Artari and Bagutti.

As the name suggests, it was built as a meeting place for the university’s senate. And until 1926, the senate was a very big deal at Cambridge, being the governing body, in charge of everything. And since its members comprised everybody who held a Cambridge MA, it was a quite a thing to get a decision made. (I’ve blogged previously on the Microcosmographia academica, which is concerned with the politics of getting things agreed within the University of Cambridge senate).

In 1926 things took a turn for the senate – its governance functions were given to the Regent House. Senate is now mostly responsible for electing the university’s chancellor and for electing the High Steward, who oversees senate procedure.

There’s currently an election on for the University of Cambridge chancellor, which is all very exciting. For certain values of exciting. There’s ten candidates, including a big ticket HE name (Lord John Browne, he of the Browne review); big political names (former MP and cabinet minister Lord Chris Smith; Brexit campaigner Gina Miller); and the ubiquitous Sandi Toksvig. Voting takes place in person at the Senate House for two days in July; or online for about a week in July.

When it’s not being used for cancellarial (it’s a real word, honest) elections – which is most of the time, in fact – Senate House is also used for graduation ceremonies at Cambridge. I’ve written before about one aspect of these; safe to say that there’s lots of other local peculiarities. At Cambridge, for example, each graduation is a separate decision of the governing body, so a special meeting of the Regent House (and before then, of the senate) is held for each ceremony. I suspect this may be where be get the notion of the degree congregation, which language I’ve heard used at other universities.

There’s also an order of precedence for the colleges at graduation, established in the Statues and Ordinances. It is: King’s College, Trinity College, St John’s College, Peterhouse, Clare College, Pembroke College, Gonville and Caius College, Trinity Hall, Corpus Christi College, Queens’ College, St Catharine’s College, Jesus College, Christ’s College, Magdalene College, Emmanuel College, Sidney Sussex College, Downing College, Girton College, Newnham College, Selwyn College, Fitzwilliam College, Churchill College, Murray Edwards College, Darwin College, Wolfson College, Clare Hall, Robinson College, Lucy Cavendish College, St Edmund’s College, Hughes Hall, and Homerton College. And this isn’t strictly the order in which the colleges were established or admitted as colleges. If anyone knows why, please let me know!

Senate House has seen its share of high jinks. Most notable, perhaps, is the 1958 incident where students contrived to place an Austin Seven on its roof. Here’s the Liverpool Daily Post, reporting with an admirable straight face on plans for its retrieval.

Eagle eyed readers may remember that this stunt was followed by a similar, suspending an Austin from the Bridge of Sighs.

Here, as always, is a jigsaw of the card – hope you enjoy it.

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June 5, 2025
Higher education postcard: Hughes Hall, Cambridge

Greetings from Cambridge – and unlike last week, this time we’re definitely in England.

It is 1878, and the Cambridge Independent Press of 7 December reports that the university has taken steps to enable the training of teachers. The Teachers’ Training Syndicate (its Cambridge-ese for a committee or working group, I think) is to be established, to oversee programmes of training for students intending to become school teachers, and the colleges at which they train.

Image: Shutterstock

All of this took place in the context of increased state engagement with school education: the provision of schools for all children was becoming increasingly necessary, and local authorities of various kinds (it’s complicated!) were empowered to fund such schools.

And it stands to reason that where you have schools, you need teachers. And by then the practice of teaching was becoming increasingly professionalised. Plus, it was one of the few professions open to women.

And so in 1885 the Cambridge Training College for Women was opened. Initially based at Newnham College, there were fourteen students, under the guidance of the college’s first principal, Elizabeth Phillips Hughes. Hughes was the first woman to gain first class honours in moral sciences at Cambridge, having studied at Newnham. (She also helped to found the Barry Teachers Training College, which ultimately became part of the University of South Wales, and helped to draft the statutes of the University of Wales). She remained principal of the new college until 1899, steering it from its modest start to a new building – that shown on the card – in 1895.

The driving forces behind the establishment of the college included Miss Frances Buss, champion of girls’ education, and one of the subjects of an anonymous verse of some fame:

Miss Buss and Miss Beale

Cupid’s darts do not feel.

How different from us

Miss Beale and Miss Buss.

Miss Beale was Dorothea Beale, suffragist, headmistress of Cheltenham Ladies’ College and one of the founders of St Hilda’s College, Oxford. And it seems that the pioneers of women’s education had a lot to put up with.

At this point Hughes Hall was not a college. (It wasn’t even Hughes Hall yet!) It was only after the university recognised women as full members (in 1947, less than a lifetime ago) that the college gained recognition as part of the university (albeit not yet a college) and was renamed Hughes Hall. This was in honour of Elizabeth Phillips Hughes, the first principal; its full name at that time was Elizabeth Phillips Hughes Hall.

It began to admit male students in 1973: the first of Cambridge’s all-women institutions to do so. In 1985 Hughes Hall became an “approved foundation” of the university (it’s the step below being a full college) and in 2006 Hughes Hall became a college of the university, with a charter and everything. And a full name – for Sunday best or when it has been naughty – of The President and Fellows of Hughes Hall in the University of Cambridge.

Hughes Hall admits only mature students (judged by age not attitude), to both undergraduate and postgraduate degrees. It still teaches education, both as an academic subject and as a PGCE, as well as programmes across other disciplines.

This post owes its origins to the eagle-eyed Professor Chris Brooke of Homerton, Cambridge, who corrected me about wat was shown on the card. I’d shared the card as one of my daily posts on Bluesky thinking it was Homerton. But it definitely isn’t!

Here’s a jigsaw of the card – hope you enjoy it.

Backstory

A couple of you have asked about the #HigherEducationPostcard backstory.

It started about ten years ago when I was in a Cardiff antiques mall, sheltering from the rain. One of the stalls had books and old postcards, and when browsing the latter I found half a dozen showing universities. Which I thought was quite cute. So I bought them.

Fast forward to 2020 and the pandemic. The first few months were scary for lots of reasons, and if you were self-employed in the HE sector the question of how to do consulting without being on site was very much front and centre. And whilst sitting at my desk trying to solve this puzzle I noticed the small stack of postcards, and thought I’d share them on Twitter. They were really popular, so I thought I could carry on doing this. But where to get postcards? eBay, mostly. And so I started bidding. And then the collection sort of growed. Its at about 1200 cards now, in fifteen albums with a stack of a couple of hundred still to be scanned and filed.

In the summer of 2020 I ran a #HigherEducationPostcard world cup on Twitter – 32 cards, paired off, the one with most votes went through to the next round. In the final, Swansea University beat van Mildert College, Durham; thousands of votes were cast, each institution getting its students, staff and alumni to join in. It was great fun!

I’d been posting daily on Twitter, and when in summer 2021 Paul Greatrix retired from weekly Registrarism blogposts on Wonkhe, I suggested that I write a weekly higher education postcard blog. The good folk at Wonkhe towers said yes, and here we are, 170 posts later. My only rule is that I have to own the actual postcard; and I try to make them interesting and informative. And mostly true. I really enjoy writing and sharing them, and have no plans to stop just yet. I hope you like them too. Thanks for reading!

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May 15, 2025
Higher education postcard: Churchill College, Cambridge

It’s 31 March 1949, and Winston Churchill, now Leader of the Opposition, was visiting the Massachusetts Institute of Technology.

He was impressed by what he saw, and thought that the UK should have its own version, a postgraduate university focusing on science and technology. Fast forward six years, and Churchill had retired after his second spell as Prime Minister. His private secretary, John Colville, sought to progress the idea, but could not make as much progress as he had hoped.

Parallel with, and unconnected to, Churchill’s idea, Shell Petroleum had since the early 1950s been hosting meetings at which leading British industrialists identified a need for a specialist institute to train people for the science and engineering industries. Again, this came to nothing.

But then in 1957 the two schemes were revivified and brought together. Alexander Todd, Nobel Prize-winning chemist, worked with Carl Gilbert, chairman of Gillette and sometime US trade representative, to make the case for a Cambridge college which would focus on science and technology. And one which would stand as a memorial to Churchill. And so in 1958 an appeal for funds was made (as can be seen from the Scotsman of 21 May 1958, no public funds would be available at first), with some £3.5 million being raised to finance the college and its initial activities.

The money was raised, with contributions from industry and also from the Transport and General Workers Union (which all confirms L P Hartley’s motto in The Go-Between: “the past is a foreign country; they do things differently there”). And it was a period of industrial largesse to higher education: in researching this piece I came across a wonderful article – in the Brechin Advertiser (29 July 1958) but no doubt syndicated more generally – by Richard Martin, on the donations to Churchill College, St Catherine’s Oxford, and for new buildings fore engineering at UCL. “The universities have been given the financial tools, and they will not fail to finish the job.”

Very deliberately, although the college was intended to focus on science and technology, it would not exclude the humanities. This was the period of C P Snow versus F R Leavis, two cultures versus one. Snow – scientist, civil servant, novelist – argued in The Two Cultures and the Scientific Revolution that the problems of society were exacerbated by the failure of many who would be considered well educated (ie in the humanities and classics) to know anything about science:

A good many times I have been present at gatherings of people who, by the standards of the traditional culture, are thought highly educated and who have with considerable gusto been expressing their incredulity at the illiteracy of scientists. Once or twice I have been provoked and have asked the company how many of them could describe the Second Law of Thermodynamics. The response was cold: it was also negative. Yet I was asking something which is about the scientific equivalent of: ‘Have you read a work of Shakespeare’s?’

(To avoid embarrassment at this point, I will remind you that the second law of thermodynamics states that the entropy or disorder of a closed system is always increasing. Which you already knew.)

Snow’s view was attacked (there is no better word) by critic F R Leavis in 1962: Snow was a philistine; his vision soulless technocratic utilitarianism. Viewed as an attack which played the man not the ball (but note here a defence of Leavis from 2013), the row did not do much to damage Snow’s view.

The founders of Churchill College clearly thought there was merit in Snow’s views; hence the requirement that only 70 per cent of the entry be for students of science and technology.

The college was given a Royal Charter in 1960, and admitted a few postgraduate students in that year. The first undergraduates arrived the following year. By 1966 Churchill had been admitted as a full college of the university and by 1968 all of the original buildings had been completed and opened.

Churchill College was amongst the first of Cambridge’s all-male colleges to admit women (in 1972). Its senior tutor – Dick Tizard – sought to broaden admissions to focus on grammar school and comprehensive school students, not focusing on the public schools. He also worked to achieve the admission of students to membership of the college governing body, in 1969.

In 1970 the Churchill College JCR, along with the University of Bristol Students’ Union, persuaded the NUS to take up an appeal by two students – Julian Fox of Bristol, and Hugh Nelson Ricketts of Churchill – against decisions of the local returning officers to disbar them from the electoral register because they were not permanently resident at their term time addresses. The Court of Appeal – with Lords Denning, Widgery and Karminski – on 12 May 1970 granted the students appeal. The OfS now requires universities to assist students in registering to vote: quite some distance has been travelled in this matter!

Winston Churchill is not without controversy. In 2020 the college announced a working party which would organise a year-long programme – on Churchill, race and empire. The university archives hold some recordings from this. Not, perhaps, surprisingly, this attracted a considerable amount of media attention and criticism: Churchill is a revered figure for some in Britain. The college cancelled the series of events in June 2021.

There’s a very readable history of the college on its website (click on “the college’s first decade” in the fuchsia box), by the way, from which I’ve drawn fairly heavily in this account.

And here’s your jigsaw of this week’s card – enjoy!

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February 14, 2025