Having returned to university after a 35-year break – and having just completed an MPhil in Modern British History at Cambridge – Rob Kelsey was on the horns of a dilemma: whether to take-up an offer of studying for his PhD from the Institute of Historical Research in London or to stay at Churchill College and study here.
‘My family is in London and it would have been a lot less hassle,’ he says. ‘But I’d loved the MPhil as well as my time at Churchill and didn’t want it to end. Staying also meant retaining my MPhil supervisor [Churchill’s Professor Peter Sloman].’
And the dilemma?
‘I was worried I’d be lonely,’ says Rob. ‘My MPhil cohort was leaving and so were many of the friends I’d made in college. Everyone at Churchill is lovely but being that much older than the other students did sometimes make me feel awkward.’
His answer was to start a university-wide society for older students. What he didn’t expect was the response. From just a few pre-term posters dotted around libraries and faculties – as well as some helpful MCR emails – the Mature Student Society took off.
‘In late September, I advertised an inaugural meeting at the Granta pub and reserved a table for 12, thinking I’d be happy if eight people came,’ says Rob. ‘It was pouring with rain and I arrived early expecting I’d soon be making my excuses for an embarrassing no-show. But people were already there and around 35 people came in total. It was the same at the Freshers’ Fair. By now we had a committee, yet we were overwhelmed by the response. People were coming up to us saying things like “where have you been?” and “this is sooo needed”. By the end of fresher’s week, we had over 300 signs-ups and were organising at least three events a week.’
And by the end of Michaelmas Term, MSS or MatSoc (‘both work,’ says Rob) had over 600 people receiving its weekly newsletter (penned by Rob) and a WhatsApp group of 660 with over 40 sub-groups (from running, to art, to lawyers, to parents, to Cambridge United fans). Also – thanks to the catering team at Churchill – the Society had pulled-off its first Formal, with over 120 paying guests.
‘That was quite something,’ says Rob. ‘Having to make a speech to a dining hall full of people I’d met just a few weeks previously, as well as having to say something in Latin for the first time ever!’
Rob’s nervousness over giving the Latin grace reveals his self-image as an outsider when it comes to Cambridge University.
‘People with my educational background didn’t go to university when I left school in the 1980s,’ says Rob, ‘and they certainly didn’t go to Cambridge. Even as an undergraduate at Manchester University I felt out-of-place. I left school – a struggling Essex comprehensive – just before my sixteenth birthday: eventually ending up a junior at an upmarket property management firm in London’s West End. They managed the gas board’s properties and took me on at 19 because they thought I’d relate well with the gas-fitter tenants of their residential portfolio. Yet the privately educated Oxbridge types that ran the smarter accounts – and who treated me as a quaint mascot – convinced me to return to education, which I did via evening A Level classes. One of the A Levels was history, which I loved. So, after starting and disliking a building-surveying course at what was then Leicester Polytechnic [now De Montfort University] I used the library to scour prospectuses of other universities [this was before the internet] and applied directly to the course director of Politics & Modern History at Manchester University. He offered me an interview and set me an essay as a substitute for a third A Level, which he liked. And I was in.’
Manchester changed Rob’s life but not his outlook, he says. While loving university life, on graduating Rob’s outsider convictions returned, making him unable to settle for careers in financial journalism and banking.
‘I was good at winning opportunities and enjoyed the work, but hated office politics,’ he says.
By the turn of the millennium, he realised that the answer was entrepreneurship. He’d also spotted a gap in the market for a public relations company and so set up Moorgate Communications.
‘I had no PR experience but my two post-uni careers had convinced me a specialist offering for corporate and investment banks would work. And I was right: clients particularly liked the fact our agency understood internal bank operations and had a feel for both their marketing needs and their paranoias when it came to the media.’
Twenty years later Rob sold Moorgate to a major American marketing-communications conglomerate, which led him to Churchill College.
‘Yet again my outsider convictions came to the fore,’ he explains. ‘It was soon obvious I wasn’t the type to be a middle manager in somebody else’s company.’
Somewhat exasperated, his wife Lucy (who he’d met at Manchester), asked ‘what do you really want to do?’ ‘I really want to go back to university,’ came the reply.
In fact, Rob had tried to stay on at Manchester but had been thwarted by a lack of funds.
‘Those were the days of full grants,’ Rob explains, ‘but the lost year in Leicester meant mine was exhausted.’
Over thirty years later, however, and it was more than his changed circumstances compelling him back into academia: it was the news. ‘I’d become more and more convinced there was a widening gap between my two worlds,’ says Rob. ‘Where I’d come from and where I’d ended up felt like Venus and Mars, and it was getting worse. I’d find myself at dinner parties of elite professionals and become frustrated by the lack of understanding and low empathy towards people from my background. They simply didn’t get the fears and ambitions of ordinary people. But then I’d go home to Essex and become deeply concerned where this disconnect was heading. And I thought there was an opportunity here in terms of historical research: a story to be told of the aspirational classes and their role in shaping post-War British politics despite their cultural disconnect with the elites that governed them. Thankfully, Professor Sloman and the History Faculty agreed.’
Which all leads back to Rob’s original aims for the Mature Student Society.
‘Mature students bring a wealth of experience and perspective, but many feel disconnected,’ he says. ‘Indeed, the Uni’s welfare team told us that mature students feeling isolated is one of their most common concerns.’
‘Cambridge should be a leader in welcoming older students back into academia,’ claims Rob. ‘And why not make Churchill the College for that trend?’
The Society’s events are 70% social. ‘We ran 40 events last term and also have many subgroups organising their own meet-ups,’ says Rob. But the Society is also 30% wellbeing. ‘Our aim is to help people deal with the stresses and strains of returning to academia after being in the “real world”.’
Rob envisions a future where older students are seen not just as participants but as assets to the University.
After 35 years in the wilderness gathering transferable skills, I feel I’ve found a place where I can fully develop my ambitions as a historian. I’m thrilled to be here, and I’m excited about what’s ahead – not just for me, but for all those older students redefining what it means to study at Cambridge.
Quick Q&A on the Cambridge University Mature Student Society
How do you define mature for the purposes of the Society? It’s self-defining. If you want to meet and socialise with older students, it’s for you.
What does it do? Mostly events: pub-nights, college lunches, coffee afternoons, formals, plus activities such as running, yoga, art, concerts etc. Study/writing groups are also popular. It is also developing a welfare side: a first stop for issues impacting older students.
What’s next? Mature student officers in every college, merchandise, more events.
Is membership still open? Absolutely! Email [email protected] or Rob at rjk62.