Well, At Least I Got Lucky with My Wife – Liddy, I’ve just handed in my resignation! – Pal called his wife. – Will you take in an unemployed pensioner? – We’ll see how you behave! – laughed Liddy. Professor Oliver Palmer Sherbrooke, PhD and lecturer at one of Britain’s leading universities, received an email demanding he award the highest marks in Advanced Mathematics to five students. Such a tragic paradox: Advanced Mathematics requires advanced marks… Oliver was no longer young and was raised in the best spirit of post-war Britain: live upright, and better to die standing than to live on your knees. How are you meant to understand this? They didn’t even deserve a pass! Attendance was, at best, twenty-five percent. The honest conscience of a former scout and Young Conservative said otherwise. But there was also the Chancellor, who didn’t just suggest the alternative – he ordered it. So, give a First! Maybe even with honours! And all will be well! Oliver was elderly and not in great health – who is, after seventy? Diabetes, high blood pressure, and a bit overweight – and that wasn’t all. Still, who (pardon us) cares about someone else’s troubles? Students didn’t like the professor. No, let’s be honest: they hated him! When Liddy, curious to see what people wrote about her beloved, found a review page, she nearly had a heart attack. And it wasn’t joy but horror. Words banned by every forum, for every letter of the alphabet! And all because he demanded effort! He graded solely by ability. But as most of today’s “yoblets” believe, he shouldn’t have done that – it was a fee-paying course! Surely, if you pay, you pass! And here, not only had they paid: now they had to actually learn something! That’s not what we agreed! Honestly, mate, are you off your rocker? One could only guess how much those people slipped management if they were issuing such orders. No, don’t think management wanted to use Oliver for free. The bribe must have been big enough to share. And they tried. But the clever and witty professor, who loved a joke, saw the envelope in the boss’s hand and knew what was up. He unexpectedly recited a rhyme that came to mind: “If you’re paid in cash today, It could end in crime some way!” And flatly refused the envelope, his civic position clear: No Firsts for you lot! Find yourselves sweeping the streets! The Chancellor shuffled, clutching the envelope, and left empty-handed. Oliver Palmer might have lost money, but gained moral satisfaction, beloved by those who grew up in post-war Britain. The Professor was like a British fruitcake – solid, rosy-cheeked, and reliable, unlike the confections that get gobbled up by foxes. Serves you right for wandering the woods singing silly songs, provoking the wildlife! The moral: stay home – what’s wrong with a quiet life with your family? Why do you all yearn for the woods like Red Riding Hood? Is it the British soul craving adventure? Oliver was cautious, never seeking adventure. Yet it found him. He’d taught at this university for ages: his teaching load now minimal. Even that minimum brought trouble. Pretty secretaries in the Dean’s office daily relayed growing management demands – like a snowball rolling downhill. The demands increased; the salary didn’t! Teaching should carry hazard pay by now. The women didn’t know advanced maths, nor did most university managers. To lead, you didn’t need to know – just wave your hands! You’re the one who has to know! And file stacks of reports! By the way, where’s your annual report? Come on, Professor Grump! The secretary looked at Oliver with disdain: what can you expect from this dinosaur – he doesn’t even know what “cringe” means! Never says: wow, that’s cool! And those trousers – total fail! Can’t you afford jeans? There’s loads on sale! Work brought money, not joy: only family brought joy – he had a devoted wife, two sons, and five grandchildren. His wife – there was a whole story there. Pretty, slim, and curly-haired Liddy was not keen on that maths student at first. But he fell in love at first sight. Despite this, Liddy agreed to a date. It was just before New Year. Winters then were freezing. The first thing he asked: – Are you wearing warm underwear? It’s icy today! – What do you mean, warm underwear? – Liddy was stunned. – Literally: have you got thermal trousers on? She blushed with disappointment and irritation. No, she didn’t expect rose petals: three carnations was considered posh. And despite the cold, Oliver brought five carnations, carefully wrapped in newspaper. Pulled from his coat, handed over, then tucked away again – as everyone did. That counted for something. As the film says: Yellow trousers – three cheers! The movie hadn’t come out yet. But by analogy: thermal trousers – three boos! People talked of lofty things then: satellite towns, “The Bratsk Dam” by Yevtushenko, the debate between science and the arts. And here – thermal trousers. Good grief, so prosaic! And oddly, Oliver wore a cap – everyone wore fur hats in winter! This cap was clearly too small. Later, Liddy would learn it was because he couldn’t care less about clothes! Absolutely. But then, rotund Oliver in that mini cap looked like a coffee pot with a lid sporting a pygmy knob… Liddy felt miserable – what a mistake! Soon, she fled on some pretence and didn’t see him again. The suitor “resurfaced” four years later: a chance encounter on the street. Four years, Carl! And he’d never stopped loving Liddy. And Liddy? At twenty-five, she was still single. Women married young then. How come – such beauty and still unmarried? Nothing suitable had turned up! Everything was unreliable, frivolous, necks adorned with trendy necklaces, seeking distractions that weren’t really available then. Memories of thermal trousers were no longer embarrassing – she saw them in a different light. When they met again, Dr. Oliver Sherbrooke looked different too: wearing a quality muskrat hat, as most had rabbit. Don’t think Liddy was materialistic: not at all! She simply saw him anew – previously, disappointment had clouded her view. They dated. Soon, Liddy became Mrs Sherbrooke, a dependable partner for the mathematician: she fell in love with Oliver’s wit. Now, the professor stood before his class, thinking of his wife: what luck to have her! He needed to start the lecture – but there was no quorum: only three of fifteen had shown up. Not much you can do. Paid-for means taken-for-granted! He couldn’t wait forever: he started lecturing. Half an hour in, a foreign student wandered in. – Why so late? – the professor asked reasonably. – Was in the toilet – got a bellyache! – replied the handsome student brazenly. – For half an hour? – Oliver probed. – Had the runs, obviously! – said the latecomer, unblinking. There was smirking in the room… What do you do with that? The disrespect to teachers was off the charts! Never like this before! And what’s going on in secondary schools? The lecture continued: Oliver wasn’t about to cast pearls before swine. But his decision was made. He made decisions carefully and responsibly. As with everything else. He was confirmed in this when the same student failed the oral exam – not a single answer right. He wasn’t even near a pass. Yet his name was on the list for a First… He simply sat there, staring Oliver down: where are you going to run, Professor, if the Chancellor gave the order? Do you know how much I paid him? Can’t wait to see you squirm, you madman! – Why don’t you know anything? – Oliver asked. – Was ill, couldn’t prepare! – Ill with what? – Bellyache! You know how it is! The handsome bearded student swayed on his chair… – Ah, of course – how could I forget you’re our main mole! And you don’t look it! – Oliver said calmly and handed him his student ID, unsigned. – Come back for a retake! And the student, staggered by such audacity, left silently… Later, Oliver emailed the Chancellor: “If you want top grades, award them yourself!” Then handed in his resignation, deciding not to return and skip the two weeks’ notice. Let them ruin his work record – he was finished for good! Let them sort it out as best they can: Sherbrooke was the only Advanced Mathematics lecturer at the university… – Liddy, I’ve resigned! – Pal called his wife. – Will you accept an unemployed pensioner? – I’ll judge by your behaviour! – Liddy replied. – For lunch, do you want cabbage rolls or fish? – Since I’m the hero, cabbage rolls will do! – the professor adapted on the fly. And as usual, he added: – It’s cold today. If you’re heading to the shop, wear your thermal trousers! – I love you too! – Liddy quietly replied.

Well, at least I lucked out with my wife.

Linda, Ive handed in my resignation! Paul rang his wife. Will you take in an unemployed pensioner?

Ill see how you behave! Linda quipped back.

Professor Paul Edwards, Doctor of Mathematics, lecturing at one of the top universities in the country, received an email demanding he give top marks to five students in his advanced mathematics exams.

Tell you what, mate, what a twisted paradoxadvanced maths demanding top marks…

The professor wasnt exactly a spring chicken and was raised with proper British valueslive with integrity, always do the right thing, and better to stand tall than grovel.

But how on earth is a person meant to take these demands? These students couldn’t even scrape a pass! Attendance? Roughly twenty-five percent, at best.

His honest, old-school conscience told him to do otherwise. But then there was the Vice Chancellor, who didnt so much suggest an alternative as straight-up order him to comply.

So, basically, Give them an A! And if possible, with distinction! Youll be all right then, mate!

Professor Edwards was not in great health, and lets be honest, who is past seventy? Diabetes, high blood pressure, bit of a bellyyou name it. But who (pardon my French) cares about someone elses troubles?

His students didnt like the professor. Actually, thats an understatementthey couldnt stand him!

Linda, ever the curious wife, once had a look at online reviews about her beloved Paul, nearly had a heart attack from shocknot joy.

Every one was filled with words currently banned on Facebook, covering every letter of the alphabet! All because he expected effort! And marked based solely on ability.

But in the minds of todays precious darlings, that wasnt onsince they paid tuition, why not just hand out the degrees? Pay and play!

Turns out, not only did they paythey were expected to actually learn something! That wasnt in the deal. Honestly, mate, Are you having a laugh?

No one knows how much cash these students handed over to university leadership if they were handing out those sorts of orders.

Not that anyone thought the bosses were using Paul for free. Clearly, there was enough of a bung to share around.

They tried to pass him an envelope, but Paul, clever bloke that he is, spotted it straight away.

He quickly dropped a rhyme hed just thought up:

If someone pays you cash on the sly, you could end up doing time! So, no thanks on your envelope, mate. Thats where I draw the lineIll give you sweeping the streets, not top grades!

The Vice Chancellor faffed about, fiddling with the envelope, and shuffled out with nothing.

Paul was left without any extra income, but with a hefty dose of moral satisfactionjust as folks brought up in post-war England loved.

Paul Edwards was a bit of an English dumplingsolid, rosy-cheeked, and reliable, unlike that folk story dumpling who got snatched by a fox.

Serves him right for wandering about singing daft songs in the woods, riling up the wildlife!

So, here’s the lesson: stay homewhats wrong with a bit of peace and quiet?

Why do you all crave the woods like Red Riding Hood? Is it something in the English soul that yearns for mischief?

Paul never went looking for trouble, but it managed to find him every time.

Hed taught at that university for ages, his workload trimmed down over the years, but even that was getting to be a pain.

The young ladies working in admin rattled off the leaderships demands every daythey piled up like a snowball.

Demands kept growing, but his pay, oddly enough, didnt! Teachers should have been paid extra for all the grief long ago.

The admin girls didnt know a thing about higher maths, same as most of those in charge. But to manage? Just wave your hands about, thatll do!

It was on him to know everything! And churn out endless reports. By the way, wheres your annual report? Chop chop, old sourpuss!

The secretary shot him a look as if he were a fossilwhat do you expect from that dinosaur? He doesnt even know what cringe means! And never says, Wow, thats sick!

And his trousersare you kidding? Dont tell me he has no money. Theres jeans everywhere nowadays!

Basically, the job brought cash but nothing elseit was his family that made life sweet. He had a wonderful wife, two sons, and five grandkids.

Now, his story with Linda is special. You see, lovely curly-haired Linda didnt fancy the maths student much at first. But Paul fell for her instantly.

Still, Linda agreed to go out with him right before New Years once.

Winters were bitter then, and the first thing Paul asked was:

Did you put on your thermals? Its freezing today!

My thermals?! Linda gawked.

Literal questionare your trousers warm?

She blushed, a bit put out and disappointed.

Not that she expected roses scattered underfootback then, three carnations were the height of romance.

Paul, for the record, brought five carnations wrapped in a newspaper despite the cold. Pulled them out, handed them over, then tucked them away againclassic, really, everyone did it. He passed the test.

Just like in that favourite old film: Yellow trousersthree cheers, mate!

Except the film hadnt come out yet. But stillin those days, warm trousers got three groans, not cheers!

Everyone waxed poetic back then: about Londons satellite towns, about the Thames Barrier, about scientists versus poets. But here he was, asking about thermals. Blimey.

And to top it off, the lad was wearing a capeveryone else wore fur hats in winter, and his cap was clearly too small.

Linda found out later its because he simply didnt fuss about clothes. At all.

At the time, chubby Paul with his tiny cap looked, well, like a kettle with a knob on the lid…

She felt awkwardwhy bother coming out? She soon left, making up an excuse, and that was it for years.

Paul popped up again four years laterthey bumped into each other somewhere. Four years, can you believe it? Hed carried a torch for Linda all that time.

Linda? Well, at twenty-five, still singlewhich was rare back then, people married young.

How come? She was gorgeous, but nothing had clicked.

Everything seemed unreliable, shallow, fickleand always up for things that simply werent done in those days.

And those memories of warm trousers didnt seem so embarrassing after all. Perspective changes, doesnt it?

By the time they met again, Paul, now a PhD, had a smashing muskrat hateveryone else had cheap rabbit fur ones.

Not that Linda was materialistic, not at all. She just saw him differently now, the annoyance had faded.

They started seeing each other, and soon Linda became Mrs. Edwards, steadfast partner to the mathematician. Shed fallen for Pauls wit and humour.

And now, Paul stood before the lecture hall, thinking of Lindahow lucky he was to have her.

He needed to start the lecture, but there wasnt enough of a crowd. So, he waitedout of fifteen students, only three had shown up.

Well, what of it? As they say, Paid fees, got a degree!

He couldnt wait any longerhe began.

Half an hour later, some lad from abroad wandered in.

Why are you late? Paul asked.

Had a dodgy stomach, was in the loo! the handsome student replied, straight-faced.

For half an hour? said Paul.

Bit of the old diarrhoea! Not even blinking.

The class tried to hold in their giggles…

What do you even do with that? The cheek students had these days was off the charts! Things were even worse in schools.

The lecture went onPaul wasnt about to cast pearls before swine, as they say. But hed already made up his mind.

He always weighed his decisions carefully. Just like everything else.

It all came to a head when at the final assessment, this same student couldnt answer a single question; not even a pass mark in sight. Yet his name was on that list meant to get top marks…

The student just stared back, bold as brass: What choice do you have, Professor, when the Vice Chancellor himself has ordered it?

Know how much Ive paid him? Well see how you wriggle out of it when you get the sack, you mug!

So why dont you know anything? Paul asked.

Ive been sick, couldnt prepare!

What with?

Stomach troubles, you know how it goes!

The bearded fella swung on his chair

Oh, righthow could I forget, our top agent! Wouldnt have guessed just by looking at you, Paul replied calmly, handing back the blank exam book. Come back for the re-sit.

Stunned by that bold move, the student walked off in silence…

Afterwards, Paul sent an email to the Vice Chancellor: If you want As, you give them yourself!

Then he wrote up his resignation, deciding he wouldnt even serve his notice period. Let them mess up his work recordhe was done for good!

Let them figure it out themselves: Paul was the only advanced maths teacher at the university…

Linda, I wrote my resignation! Paul rang his wife. Will you take in an unemployed old man?

Ill see about that, Linda laughed. Want cabbage rolls or fish for lunch?

Cabbage rollsIve earned it! Paul replied, as he always did. Then added: Its cold out today. If you pop to the shop, wear your warm trousers!

I love you too, Linda said softly.