Madame Chairlady, governors, headmaster, ladies and gentlemen, and pupils of Sherrardswood School,

First I would like to thank the Chairlady for the compliments paid to me, and the school for the splendid lunch provided to my wife and myself. This hospitality obliges me to give a short address to this select gathering.

It is a privilege and a pleasure to say a few words to you, and in the next seventeen minutes or so I shall try to justify the confidence placed in me by the governors and the headmaster who have extended their invitation to me for this unique occasion. My theme is “From Peasant to Professor”. My aim is to tell you something I hope you will find interesting, and to try and bring about in some of you feelings of inspiration and aspiration from this potted history of my life – its ups and downs, its struggles and its successes.

The story begins on a small farm without any modern amenities in a remote village in Burma – a developing country. The farm was run in a somewhat out-of-date way. I was then five years old, brought up and pampered by four foster parents – all spinster aunts. The village school was my first cradle of education. There I learned the three “Rs”: the fourth R, which stands for rioting by students, was then unknown, and the fifth R for rebellion by teachers hadn't yet reared its ugly head. The sixth R for revolution by school governors and headmasters, or by parents, was still a long way off. However, my performance at the school must have been impressive enough to prompt the headmaster to take an unusual step. He recommended to my aunts to send me to an English high school.

Education was expensive then. Unlike the free education nowadays, it was highly esteemed and hankered after by parents who had the welfare of their children at heart. But I was a promising pupil, and my aunts, who were not very well-off, scraped together every penny they could find to give me an English education.