Though Britain was still struggling out of austerity, the meals at Christ Church high table were more luxurious than anything I’d come across before. It was there that I first tasted oysters — and thought wonderingly of my mother’s taste fondness for them. The dons I saw most were the small band who lived in college, among them the economist Sir Roy Harrod, who pointedly refrained from ever addressing a single remark to me in my three terms’ residence. One night I was sitting opposite him  at dinner when he had a guest, for whose benefit he was identifying the various notables seated around the table. I heard his guest ask who I was, and Harrod replied, quite audibly, “Oh, that’s nobody.” The guest gave me a pitying glance and looked away.

John Carey, “The Unexpected Professor: An Oxford Life in Books”.

About clivedav184z

Chief theatre critic for The Times. Twitter: CliveDavisUK Facebook: Instagram: clivephotos
This entry was posted in Literature, Notebook and tagged , , . Bookmark the permalink.