Awards & Honours
In July this year (2010), Billy was awarded an Honorary
M.Ed Degree
of the University College Plymouth St Mark & St John
The invitation from the university college reads:
"Dear Mr Hopkins,
"The University College is empowered to confer honorary
degrees upon persons who have achieved great distinction in their professional
and personal lives and made outstanding contributions to the fabric of our
society.
"My colleagues and I have considered a number of
nominations and are unanimous in wishing to recognise your significant
achievements by awarding you the Degree of Master of Education Honoris
Causa. In particular the University College would wish to recognise your
contributions to teaching and literature as a highly successful author and
teacher having gained your teaching qualification at the College of St Mark and
St John in Chelsea in 1947."
Previous recipients of honorary degrees from this University
College have been:
Nobel Peace Prize winner Archbishop
Desmond Tutu for his worldwide fame as opponent of
apartheid and his invaluable work as Chairman of the Truth and
Reconciliation Commission of South Africa;
Sue Barker
for her achievements as professional tennis-player and TV
personality;
Peter Lord & David Sproxton
as directors and producers of the enormously successful animated films,
Wallace and Gromit.
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Graduation Ceremony Receiving my Degree |
Graduation Ceremony Giving my speech to a happy
audience |
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My wife Clara, Myself and my
daughter Catherine |
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Graduation Ceremony Signing the M.Ed Register |
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Speech Given by Wilfred Hopkins on Conferment of Honorary
Degree on July 16th, 2010 Ladies and
Gentlemen, Principal, Chair of University College Council, Lord Mayor, and
Honoured Guests Let me
begin by saying how deeply honoured I feel to have been invited by the
University College to receive this prestigious award. As an old boy of Marjons I was also deeply
moved. Must admit though that my
first reaction on receiving it was that there had been some kind of mix-up
and the College had somehow confused me with my name-sake, Sir Anthony
Hopkins, the famous Welsh film actor.
Then I saw the Marjon crest at the head of the letter and I knew
there’d been no mistake and they really did mean me. I said just now “old boy of Marjons” but perhaps the term “old” is something of an understatement. Maybe “Ancient” is a more appropriate epithet because on the way here I realised with a sense of profound shock that it was 65 years ago that I first came to Marjons as a callow seventeen-year old hoping to become a teacher. The year was 1945; the Second World War had just ended and the college was just starting up again in Chelsea with about 150 students. I don’t
know how many of my particular year group are still surviving but in some
ways I feel – with a sense of sadness - as if I am representing them here
today. Our first view of the college
in 1945 was not encouraging; it was not a pretty sight. The place had fallen
into disrepair during the war and was badly in need of a lick of paint. There
was even a rumour that the basements had been used as a mortuary during the
London blitz. The dilapidated
buildings were most unlike the magnificent campus you have here today in
Plymouth. Quite a
few years ago now, I retired after a forty-five year career in Education half
of which was spent teaching in secondary schools and teacher training in Manchester,
Liverpool and Glasgow. The other half
being spent in Africa – in boys’ secondary schools in Kenya, teacher
education at the University College of Rhodesia (now Zimbabwe of course) and
finally at the University of Malaŵi. On
retirement I tried to occupy my time creatively by indulging in one or two
disastrous hobbies, like wood-turning, dolls-house making and most disastrous
of all, wine-making until my family fed up with the constant noise and mess
suggested that I write my memoirs but for family consumption only. I was about seventy years old by this
time. “Start
with your childhood,” they said, “and describe what it was like growing up in
a poor district of Manchester during the war until you finally went off to
Marjons to train as a teacher.” I did as
suggested and a year later had produced about 150,000 words which I entitled
OUR KID – a popular expression in the north of England. I turned out a few copies which were read
by friends and close relatives.
“Worth publishing,” they declared. (Well, they would say that, wouldn’t they?). So urged on, I approached about 30
literary agents. Six months later,
the rejections began coming back thick and fast. The replies were worth a book in themselves. Here are one or two examples. First
one said "What s charming story! What a pity, you're not a little girl.
Why not write it again and pretend that you are?" Though I
was keen to be published, I wasn’t prepared to change my sex for the
privilege. The second rejection said
simply "You should try to write sideways." (Years later I am still
trying to understand what this meant.
Only time I wrote sideways was when teaching in a tough school in
Manchester and writing on the BB could be a hazardous experience. Had to write sideways like this. (Demonstrate). And so
the rejections continued. I was assured that any kind of comment from an
agent was a bonus since most answered, if they answered at all, with a
cryptic 'No thanks'. One
agent answered several months later: "Just found your manuscript which
you sent me last year. It had fallen behind the radiator. What a pity as it
has great potential and I'm sure I could have done something with it."
Needless to say I rushed off a copy to her. I heard no more. 3 months later,
I learned that she’d gone bust! I hoped I wasn't a contributory factor. But
who knows, maybe she had a cornucopia of masterpieces hidden behind her
radiator. In the
end I decided to publish the book myself. Had a couple of hundred paperbacks
printed and advertised in a few magazines. The books sold like the proverbial hot cakes. Maybe the book has something, I thought.
Perhaps the story strikes a chord or rings a bell or something. Then much to my surprise the book was
taken up by a London agent. Six weeks later “Our Kid” entered the Sunday
Times best seller list at number 8. Over the
next ten years, I followed it up with six more books in the series. Strange really, when you think about it. I
set off to write my memoirs for the family and ended up writing something the
length of the Forsyte Saga. The
second book in the series, by the way, entitled “High Hopes” is all about my
time at Marjons and you may be entertained by some of my experiences – all
true I hasten to add! Our
chief concern in those far-off days though was getting enough to eat (the
whole country was on starvation rations) and staying warm (1947 was the
coldest winter that century. We had
to do our study shivering ‘neath the blankets!). I must admit that at times a
number of us were tempted to pack it all in and go home but when the
Principal, Michael Roberts — a distinguished scholar and poet -- told us that
the survival of Western civilisation was resting on our young shoulders, we
thought we’d better stay and help civilisation out. And now you
have reached the end of your own studies here at the University College and I
congratulate you on your success and the hard work I know you must have put
into them. It is customary I suppose
for someone like me at the opposite end of the educational spectrum to offer
a word of advice to young people like yourselves about to embark on your
professional careers. Not sure I am
qualified to do so as the educational world has changed - and is continuing
to change at breath-taking speed every day.
I would simply leave you with this thought: Your degree is only the beginning. The real learning process begins as it were at the coal face
when you take up your first appointment.
And you never know where or how far that is going to take you. (Would
be interesting to know what you’ll all be doing 30 years from now. Perhaps you could drop me a line and tell
me but don’t expect a quick reply as I shall be 112 by then.) I wish
you every success in your career and, in conclusion, may I say only this: if
you derive as much happiness as I have enjoyed from my own career of
teaching, then you have a wonderful, exciting and fulfilling life ahead of
you. I envy you in so many ways and only wish I could have my career all over
again. Thank
you once again for inviting me and offering me this honorary degree which I
am more than happy to accept. Wilfred
Hopkins (a.k.a. Billy), July 16th, 2010 |
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The Society of Medical Writers* has awarded Billy the
prestigious Gustave Plaut Medal “in commemoration of a man who brought distinction
upon our Society by his membership.
Also for his substantial and sustained contributions to literature as a
member of the Society over a significant period.”
Billy was General Factotum
of The Society for twelve years. Below is
a picture of Billy at the Winchester Meeting of the Society receiving the award
from the President, Professor Brian McGuinness.
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The Gustav Plaut Medal presented by the President of the SOMW,
Professor Brian McGuinness September 2006 |
The Gustav Plaut Medal |
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And the Certificate |
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* The Society consists of around 250 doctors who write not only
for the medical press but also for a wide variety of publications of general
interest, including articles, novels, and poetry.
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