Our House Was a Riot of Squalor, Anarchists and Noisy Sex. David Breezed Through It All ...

Summary

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The handshake was firm, the voice confident and classless: 'Hello, I'm David Miliband.' It was Oxford, October 1984 and Corpus Christi College's new intake of freshers were gathered in the wood- panelled Junior Common Room for a welcome drinks party.

No doubt we were a gauche bunch. But, superficially at least, David seemed more unworldly than most in his heroically unfashionable flared jeans, Marks & Spencer jumper, wire-framed spectacles and pudding-bowl haircut - a signature look that wasn't to change for the next three years.

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Extract

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Our House Was a Riot of Squalor, Anarchists and Noisy Sex. David Breezed Through It All ...

First impressions were underlined later that evening when David and I - who were both studying Politics, Philosophy and Economics (PPE) - went for our first Oxford drink together.

We headed for The Turf pub off Holywell Street, a favourite of Hardy's Jude The Obscure, and I led the way to the bar. 'I'll have a half of bitter,' said David.

Having spent the summer reading Kingsley Amis and Philip Larkin, fantasising about the freedoms of being away from home, this wasn't what I was expecting. There was another round - another half for David - and that was it. By 9pm I was back in my college room feeling that student life wasn't all it was cracked up to be.

But there was, it quickly...

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