He added: “It became increasingly irritating to see academics at the new universities being paid between pounds 5,000 and pounds 10,000 more a year than their counterparts at Cambridge.”Cambridge, it would appear, comes gift-wrapped in myths. According to Professor Sumner, undergraduates are either crammed into crowded lecture theatres, or in a one-to-one tutorial. And when he inquired what staff turnover there was at the Institute, the reply was a categorical: “There isn’t one.”So what has this former polytechnic got that Cambridge hasn’t? Professor Sumner, dapper behind a desk stacked high with papers, essays and reports, agreed that the offer of a chair and the remuneration that accompanied it were not irrelevant to his decision. Seminars where, say, seven to a dozen students may discuss a problem and spark vibes off each other are almost non-existent. But these were by no means the only grounds for his divorce from the internationally renowned research centre that had employed him for 18 years.”I wouldn’t have been promoted at Cambridge if I had stayed there for another 18 years. I was treated globally as a professor, but was never paid as such There is an overall lack of promotion at Cambridge.

`Stark staring bonkers.’ That was the verdict on Colin Sumner when he gave up being a Cambridge don and headed for the fresh pastures of London’s East End. John Izbicki investigated, and yes, he did it on purpose, and no, this professor isn’t one sandwich short of a picnic by the River Cam … A shocked colleague told him he was “the first person in 700 years to leave Cambridge – er – voluntarily”. What makes an eminent don leave cushy Cambridge for a less privileged existence in London’s East End? What induces him to swap a student-staff tutorial ratio of 2:1 for a class ratio of 19:1?
Some colleagues called Colin Sumner, 48, “stark staring bonkers” when he decided to abandon his post as lecturer at the Institute of Criminology for a chair of law at the University of East London.

A fellow undergraduate dubs this new, consumerist me “the student from hell – a university’s worst nightmare. Someone who expects to get what they’ve paid for”.Unfortunately, my principled annoyance begins to look slightly tarnished when the bank withholds payment of my fees standing order because of “insufficient funds”. This, in fact, cheers me up immensely – financial crises of this nature are surely the hallmark of the student down the ages I am beginning to feel that I belong.. So, when lectures and tutorials begin late (the lecturer cannot find the door key, or he fell over on a pavement), finish early (for a fire drill) or don’t take place at all for a fortnight (“reading weeks”), I moan loudly about value for money for my tuition fees. On the other hand, the apparent lackadaisical dawdle of academic life can be intensely irritating – particularly if you receive no grant and pay your own tuition fees.

The resultant number of words is obviously more than sufficient and will probably need editing down I do a word count There are about 800. I am less than half-way.It occurs to me that this student lark may be more testing than I first thought. I protest that I’ve written nothing longer than 250 words for about 15 years (except letters), but this cuts no ice.Still, how difficult can it be? I park myself at the word processor and bash away like a fiend for four hours. These, I am told by fellow students, should prove a doddle for a journalist. I check out the price of wheelchairs, but even second-hand ones are prohibitively expensive, and I resign myself to the prospect of a triple heart bypass by the time I’m 50.At the core of the first year of my course is a series of 2,000-word essays.