The Crossing

THE passage from junior lecturer to dean via the journeyman authorship of a couple of convoluted and densely footnoted academic articles, with a bland textbook survey thrown in along the way, to the heights, and salary, of administrative grandeur.

And now this, director of an independent unit for research and development, for business growth and social regeneration.

It was the link that was missing which interested me more than the outward show of success and the inner conviction of merit.

Gwilym still believed, in his innermost sanctuary, that the latter was a deserved compound of IQ and effort.

He never got satire.

Not if it was directed against his own deserved needs.

Just deserts was a different thing altogether.

Not that he would appreciate the distinction.

“It’s a terrific opportunity, Bill. Even in these challenging times. Especially in these times.

“We’re bringing together the private and the public. Pulling in the best ideas, and the most go-ahead people.

“Graduates on short-term contracts. Start-up pods. Peppercorn rents. All the latest kit. Spin-offs for commercial ventures.

“Creative industries. Links into business and government. Able to form partnerships across the piste. Not tied down. Fleet of foot.

“University connections that do not hamstring us with the caution of academic regulation. Innovative to the core.

“Mal’s idea originally, of course, and he worked his socks off to secure the funding. A dream come true.

“So when they asked me, the Board, you know, to leave the University, where, did you know?

“I was the Pro Vice Chancellor, well, I didn’t, despite everything, hesitate.

“What a chance, eh, to put into practice all I’d studied and researched. What else could I do?”

I tried looking impressed. At his bravery. At the opportunity.

At the personal sacrifice. And I must have succeeded.

CONTINUES TOMORROW