Free The Real James Herriot by Jim Wight Page A

diary at that time: ‘A momentous day! This morning I started in the veterinary college. Crowd of new fellows waiting outside – seasoned veterans swaggering in – stamping of feet in lecture rooms – big thrill when I went into a room full of dead animals. There’s some queer fish here!’
    He was soon to discover that the big difference between Hillhead School and the veterinary college was that, here, no one seemed tocare whether he did any work. In keeping with the regimented discipline at Hillhead School, his teachers had seemed fiercely determined that he should pass his exams, with the reputation of the school being at stake. At the veterinary college, however, the whole atmosphere was almost one of apathy. During his first term, large amounts of time, especially in the afternoons, were spent playing table tennis in the common-room, visiting the cinema, or just going home to do exactly as he liked.
    This was not really surprising. The college was only too pleased to have the students there, paying their fees; if they did not work and took fifteen years to complete a five-year course, that was their problem. In fact, there was little incentive to qualify since there were very few jobs waiting for them when they eventually achieved their goal. For the student whose parents were wealthy and willing enough to continue their support, the way of life at Glasgow Veterinary College was an attractive proposition. To some of the students, money did not seem a problem and they did, indeed, take up to ten, twelve or more years to complete the course. Some of them never made it at all, finishing up in a variety of jobs. In the years following his qualification, Alf used to see some of his old college chums during his visits to Glasgow; one he saw serving in a textile shop, and he was startled to see another of his old pals directing the traffic at Charing Cross. Some of these long-serving students became such a part of the establishment that when they eventually took their leave, Dr Whitehouse and his staff bade them farewell with a tear in the eye. In the introduction to his book
James Herriot’s Dog Stories
, published many years later, Alf described the professor’s reaction to the departure of one of these ‘permanent students’:
    One chap, McAloon by name, had been there for fourteen years but had managed to get only as far as the second year in the curriculum. He held the record at the time but many others were into double figures … The fourteen-year man was held in particularly high esteem and when he finally left to join the police force, he was sadly missed. Old Dr Whitehouse, who lectured in anatomy, was visibly moved at the time. ‘Mr McAloon,’ he said, putting down a horse’s skull and pointing with his probe at an empty space, ‘has sat on that stool for eleven years. It is going to be very strange without him.’
    The building in which Alf received his veterinary education was an uninspiring one, situated on a steep hill on the corner of Buccleuch Street in the Cowcaddens District of Glasgow. This old establishment, formerly a pumping station for Glasgow Corporation, was built of dull stone with rows of tired-looking windows, and bore more resemblance to a high-security prison than a recognised seat of learning. Gloomy tenement buildings looked down on the college from all sides, and there was not a sign of any greenery for as far as the eye could see.
    Despite its forbidding appearance, there was a warmth and friendliness within those grim walls. Alf felt a great affection for his old college, but one of the interesting things about the James Herriot books is the absence of stories about his life there. In the years following publication of
The Lord God Made Them All
in 1981, he swore that he was not going to write another one. This disappointed me, as I knew it would his fans, and I often reminded him that he still had plenty of material left, including his years as a veterinary student. Apart from a