There is no doubt, however, that she thought the world of her only son – and he of her. Alf’s adulation of his mother shows in some of the entries in his diaries: ‘There’s Mother laughing just now. It is the world’s greatest tonic to me when I know she’s happy.’ The mature Alfred Wight was certainly not a cold man. He displayed, to a remarkable degree, qualities of warmth and genuine concern for others, and I feel sure that these qualities were apparent in the young Alf, too. Perhaps, as a young man, his reverence towards, and concern for his mother was his way of seeking affection from her – something she was unable to give openly in return. Alf was a boy who packed an enormous amount into his life but he never lost sight of the ambition that transcended all others. He was determined to do well at school and gain the necessary higher grades to qualify for entrance to veterinary college. And this he did. He left Hillhead High School on 29 June 1933, with a Higher Education Leaving Certificate asserting that he had obtained three highers – English (including Literature and History), Latin and French. To his amazement, he also attained a pass in Mathematics at lower level. He achieved results of 67% in English, 53% in French and 48% in Latin. His illness at the beginning of his final year decreed that he did not attain the marks in these examinations that he had worked so hard for, but they were good enough. He had achieved his goal.

He wrote in the diary on 30 June 1933: ‘What a day! What a day! I awoke this morning a poverty stricken youth and I am going to bed a rich man. This morning we had the prize giving and I got 4s 6d for being runner up in the championship. I then took my departure from Hillhead for ever. I feel sort of sorry to leave the place and all the pleasant things connected with it but, on the other hand, I am glad to have got my highers at the age of 16 years and 8 months and to be able to get on with my job. I’ll join the F. P. (former pupils) Club, of course, and keep up my connection with the school … Afterwards, Mother presented me with ten bob for getting my highers!’

His parents were extremely proud that their son had gained admission to the veterinary college, and all the relatives in Sunderland and every friend for miles around were posted with the news. One day, shortly after the results came through, the coalman was filling the bunker and Hannah could not resist telling him about her son’s achievement.

‘We’ve just had some good news,’ she said.

The coalman paused. He looked at her and Pop. ‘Aye, that’s great, Mrs Wight! Whit’s the news?’

‘My son is going to go to the veterinary college!’ she replied, bursting with pride. ‘He is going to become a veterinary surgeon!’

Bright eyes shone out of the grimy face. ‘Ach!’ he replied, ‘some tart’ll get a haud o’im!’

In one of the last diary entries written while he was still at school, Alf wrote: ‘It’s a blinking nuisance having to write this blessed book in the early hours of the morning but mebbe when I’m Prime Minister, I’ll sell the copyright for £5000!’ Little did the young man realise, as he left Hillhead High School to set out on the next step of his education at Glasgow Veterinary College, that many years later he would have a copyright to exceed all his expectations.

CHAPTER FOUR

The veterinary profession today is enjoying a wave of enormous popularity. At the time of writing this biography, there are three different television programmes currently showing about veterinary activities – all achieving high viewing ratings. James Herriot has been held to be largely responsible for the public’s seemingly inexhaustible fascination for all things veterinary. This is a predictable opinion as the television series ‘All Creatures Great and Small’, first shown twenty years ago, was a runaway success and was enjoyed by millions. James Herriot’s books, the inspiration behind that series, are widely believed to have been the main reason for the spotlight that now seems to be permanently upon the veterinary surgeon.

My father, however, repeatedly expressed his opinion that he was not solely responsible for the high profile of his profession and the headlong rush of young people entering the veterinary schools. When I applied for entry in 1960, ten years before the first Herriot book was published, there were, even then, three to four hundred applicants for around forty-five places on the course. With the general public’s enduring fascination for animals, a career in veterinary medicine has been a natural choice for an ever-increasing number of young people. The enormous popularity of his books may have inevitably improved the image of the profession, but there are other factors involved and I agree with my father’s assertion: James Herriot is only partly responsible. I feel sorry for the youngsters nowadays who aspire to be veterinary surgeons. The competition to enter the veterinary schools is intense, with dauntingly high academic achievements needed – three ‘A’ Levels in the science subjects, with at least two at ‘A’ grade. Many listen with envy when I tell them that, back in 1960, I needed only two ‘A’ Levels to gain entry to Glasgow University Veterinary School. Admittedly, they had to be in the science subjects – chemistry, physics and biology – but an ordinary pass was enough and it was a modest challenge in comparison with the ferocious competition of today. I wonder what they would think of the requirements in my father’s day! Alfred Wight gained admission to Glasgow Veterinary College in 1933 with passes in English, French and Latin – hardly ideal subjects for a future scientist, but the situation then was very different. With comparatively few wishing to enter the veterinary profession during the years of the depression, the veterinary schools were only too pleased to welcome anyone to fill the courses. While still at Hillhead School, he had telephoned the veterinary college to tell them that, provided he gained the basic entry requirements, he would like to pursue a career in veterinary medicine.

The principal himself, Dr Whitehouse, had answered the telephone. ‘Good!’ he had replied. ‘When can you start?’

At the time of Alf’s entry in 1933, Glasgow was unique among the veterinary schools of the British Isles. It was receiving no financial aid from the government, and its survival depended solely upon the fees received from the students, together with local authority grants and donations from various organisations. A government report of 1925 had decreed that only one veterinary school was needed in Scotland, resulting in the grant upon which the school depended being ruthlessly terminated. Glasgow Veterinary College defiantly carried on functioning through the sheer determination of the chairman of the governors, Professor John Glaister, and the principal, Dr A. W. Whitehouse. As a result, it took a fierce pride in its very existence, and the students emerged from the five-year course feeling a real sense of achievement.

Alf received a Carnegie Bursary of £18 a year together with a Glasgow Education Authority grant of £10 towards his fees, but the real cost was much more. Books, materials and living expenses multiplied the drain upon the students’ resources many times over. As at Hillhead, Alf received the full support of his parents throughout the six years he spent at the veterinary college – years that were to provide him with unforgettable memories and life-long friendships.

He began his education at the college on 26 September 1933 and he wrote in his diary at that time: ‘A momentous day! This morning I started in the veterinary college. Crowd of new fellows waiting outside – seasoned veterans swaggering in – stamping of feet in lecture rooms – big thrill when I went into a room full of dead animals. There’s some queer fish here!’