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It’s a raid! Maxwell making his escape through the wardrobe. Cartoon by Dave Hitchcock

Maxwell Craven describes student life on the Mickleover campus of the former Bishop Lonsdale College in the 1960s when lads, staying beyond the curfew in the women’s hall of residence would, CS Lewis-style, escape through the wardrobe and their art teacher was arrested as a Soviet spy.

The principal when I was studying for my BEd at Bishop Lonsdale College was Amy Sephton, a humane and enlightened woman, although she could be suitably frightening.

She had honed her skills when the college was girls-only but her personality dominated and she could reduce even a hulking male to a quivering wreck with great aplomb.

With her, problems were usually sorted out over a glass of sherry in her house on site. Her successor, Norman Evans, on the other hand, was unsmiling and unapproachable, who decided everything by forming a committee and then studiously ignoring its recommendations if he didn't agree with them. He would have been perfect in local government.

My friends and I resided in our second year in No 234 Uttoxeter Road, a splendid house which we abused horribly.

The following year we were moved to No 276 as our previous residence was due to be demolished to make way for the new road. The house did duly come down but its garage survived a further 30 years as a scout hut!

Most of our favourite girls lodged in the FitzHerbert building on the campus. One of the problems of the whole site was that its first phase was jerry-built – concrete, brick and stucco, thin walls, badly-fitting steel windows and so on.

The walls of FitzHerbert Lodge were, therefore, paper-thin and being with a girl friend there was like East Enders with the picture blanked out. Every conversation, emotional blip, drunken blunder or moment of passion was shared with those on either side and, if on the first floor, above and below.

We eventually discovered – no doubt stumbling about when a knock came on the door at a time we were not supposed to be there – that the backs of the built-in wardrobes were not only shared with the room adjoining, but that these backs were only clipped in and could be shuffled aside with ease.

This revelation was golden, for, from time-to-time, either the housekeeper or the lodge warden, a lecturer who lived on the premises, would check for “young gentlemen” over-staying the 10pm curfew.

Being caught in flagrante was a capital offence for which one could be suspended.

The discovery of the wardrobe door phenomenon made escape or concealment that much more viable and arrangements were often made between those in adjoining rooms to provide a safe haven during raids.

A memorable occasion was when some girl let her hair-dryer overheat, with the result that the fire alarm went off about 2am. The throng gathered for the roll call included several unkempt and sheepish-looking males, although some did try to slip away in the darkness.

I never knew the building had room for so many people! And even then, two males were found cowering in wardrobes by the firemen, checking that the building was empty!

The garden on the far side of the building was landscaped with a reedy pond in the middle, amid some carefully contrived undulation.

When I arrived, apart from the late Russell Harty, camping it up in the English department, the art department had a metalwork lecturer called Charles I'Anson, then, as now, well-known for his striking metalwork animal sculptures.

He was very affable and great fun, being noted for his full beard, domed forehead and thinning hair.

In our second year, his art was the subject of a prestigious exhibition in London, where he was very publicly arrested on the private viewing night by a posse of armed police from Special Branch.

Apparently he had been identified as the notorious Soviet spy George Blake, whom he did resemble, and was taken off to Wormwood Scrubs, from which Blake had escaped the night before.

Why MI5 should think that, having escaped, Blake would attend an art exhibition instead of high-tailing it to East Germany (which is what he did), no-one could work out.

It took all Amy Sephton's high-level contacts and 24 hours to convince the authorities that they had the wrong man and to spring her irate art lecturer! However, it made all the papers and did wonders for his exhibition.

His legacy to the Mickleover campus was a fine sculpture of three cranes which was positioned in the centre of the FitzHerbert Quad pond and looked superb.

Sadly, when I went last year, it was nowhere to be seen and a rumour reached me that it had been offered around the "trade" in central Derbyshire. What has happened to what is now a very valuable work of art? If you know please write on the discussion page.

Despite the loss of Charlie's cranes, I hope very much that the University will save and re-use the giant coat-of-arms over the entrance, the commemorative plaque inside the great hall and one or two other items for posterity.

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County:  Derbyshire

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