27th-29th March 1976

After all the usual excitement of a geography field trip – touring the Gower Peninsula, measuring plant and soil types on a Valleys hillside, visiting Merthyr Tydfil and Port Talbot/Neath and a very strange remote pub – the final few days of the geography field trip just sort of fizzled out, but not without a cocktail of disappointment, amusement and beer.

Saturday 27th. March

The weekend started with a member of our group – Derek – wandering off on his own first thing. I am sorry to say that I do not remember Derek, but in my defence I certainly knew him then – and it was 50 years ago after all!.

Most of us decided to head for the University and town libraries, which seemed eminently sensible – but not me. In the end I did a Derek and went for a walk around the city and nearby villages looking for tourist attractions. I have always been a bit of an explorer – a feature of my character that has never left me. Yes, on a visit to California I would of course visit Hollywood, but I would also drive up Route 1 towards Santa Barbara and take a random dirt road east, just to see what was there.

So, why were most of my colleagues camped out in libraries whilst I was exploring the area around Swansea? The reason is not clear from my diary at this time but it became apparent some weeks later: we were to write essays on tourism in this part of south Wales.

Spending time in a library is a great way to learn a lot in a short space of time – and to collect citations for an academic essay. I just seemed to prefer to find out for myself, despite this being an inefficient way to gather data given the very limited time available. I think my colleagues probably made the right choice. I suppose in today’s terms it would be a bit like a digital approach – searching the internet – compared to an analogue approach – talking to people, reading books, visiting places. I tend to veer towards analogue. These days, AI can do the former but not the latter. Well, not yet anyway.

After wandering around Mumbles a few of us met up at the pier before getting back to halls for dinner and, guess what, a few beers. Incidentally, beer seemed to range in price from 20p to 24p a pint – quite a difference!

Sunday 28th. March

Despite the beer of the previous evening I was out of bed at the surprising hour of 0835. Such precision first thing in the morning! However, this was not to be repeated at the end of the day, where I carefully inserted a ‘c.’ (for ‘circa’) in brackets after my assumed bedtime, which was 0030.

It would appear that a larger than usual quantity of beer was consumed in the evening – and with good reason.

I may have been up at about eight-thirty but Andy was zonked and I did not get him up until 12 noon. Our main task today was to hitch a lift to London and, despite expending a great deal of time, effort and boredom we remained steadfastly planted by the side of the road in Swansea. There was only one thing for it: head back to the Halls then down the pub. According to my diary “we got well and truly pissed”.

Monday 29th. March

The following statement in my diary would seem to be obvious given the circumstances:

“Certainly didn’t feel like getting up this morning and couldn’t eat much breakfast.”

Actually, that latter statement seems at odds with my normal response to beer consumption, which would be to cram at least two of everything on a plate. Two sausages, two rashers, two fried eggs, two helpings of beans and mushrooms, fried bread AND toast… You get the picture.

Anyway, I was out of bed at 0745 so clearly my determination to get home overcame whatever residual hangover may have otherwise delayed my egress from a well-earned kip. Myself and Mick got a bus into Swansea station – we missed the 0952 but were on the 1052 to Paddington and were back in London by 1530. After all the effort of yesterday we were whisked home in comfort, albeit with the student grant taking a bit of a beating. Incidentally, my diary makes no mention of Andy, who seems to have simply vanished somewhere between hitching a lift and waking up with a hangover.

From Paddington I was over to Finsbury Park on the tube, which set me back 30p, then on the 106 bus back to Clapton. I was on my own with a can of soup after which my flatmates eventually turned up – it seems they had been at home in Louth for the weekend and were somewhat distraught. My diary records that “…they lost Tigger in Market Rasen” which sounds like a line from a comedy sketch but actually it was a reference to their pet cat. Quite how you lose a domestic cat, let alone in Market Rasen, is beyond me. Nevertheless it was all rather sad.

After listening to a few of my mix-tapes I had a bath. My diary does not say I had a bath, but I paid 5p for it so I must have had one! Yes, it wasn’t just televisions and washing machines that were coin-operated in those days…