No.128
The Trusty Servant
Eric’s story: tragedy into triumph
Eric Billington (Co Ro, 85-) recounts:
On the 16 th June 2018 I had an
operation on my back. It left me
paralysed from the chest down and I
am now a full-time wheelchair user.
The editor has asked me to tell my
story.
My childhood taught me two things:
to support Liverpool FC (because
of being raised on the Wirral) and
stoicism (because the cure for 60s
rebellion at Sedbergh, where I had won
a scholarship, was rugger interspersed
with cross-country running). My
school experience was wildly unhappy.
But my year group was bright and all
14 of us went on to Oxbridge, I to read
Engineering at Trinity Hall (1972-75).
After the obligatory haircut, I had
little difficulty getting a job, designing
sewerage systems. After a year in the
UK, I did three years in Bahrain and
then a long motorbike ride through
Saudi Arabia, Egypt and Sudan
brought me to Nairobi, where the fresh
strawberries and cold beers convinced
me to stay. I got a job writing a
proposal for repairing the water system
in Kampala, Uganda. Idi Amin’s years
of mismanagement had damaged it
severely – and had left my hotel room
in the Kampala Intercontinental with
bullet holes in the door and no water
to flush the toilet, so it was fortunate
that the design team spent most of our
time in the safe confines of Nairobi.
During this period I developed a
passion for sailing, leading to the
Fireball World Championships in San
Francisco Bay in 1984.
Then in 1985, in response to an advert
in The Times, I came to Winchester
College as a part-time Physics teacher,
covering for Tony Ruth’s two-term
post-Hopper’s sabbatical. It was a
perfect opportunity for me: a chance
to see whether I would enjoy teaching
more than engineering, with no
commitment beyond the two terms.
I was confident that, if I could hold
the attention of drunken revellers in
a crowded bar by singing folk songs, I
shouldn’t have too much trouble with
Wykehamists.
I loved it immediately. I met with
Martin Gregory once a week to plan
and to brush up my rusty Physics; we
spent much of the time talking about
his heat engines, sewing machines
and industrial archaeology. Soon
opportunities for further terms
materialised, with my time spread
between Physics and Maths (so I well
remember the ‘Algebra Wars’, as well
as racing John Durran up the stairs
of E block). I became a tutor in Toye’s
(first with James Miller, then with
Andrew Wolters), which was great
fun and included some lively theatre
productions. I was lured into running
the squash by Simon Blake-Wilson, an
enthusiastic pupil who just wouldn’t
take no for an answer (so typical of
Winchester).
And of course I got involved with
the sailing. Netley SC was a rather
unforgiving location, with its steep
and long slipway, impossibly complex
security, and proximity to a busy
commercial shipping lane. Yet we had
brilliant times there. Easter training
camp initially included actual camping,
but happily we soon found parents
willing to accommodate us. And in
1989, by the narrowest of margins
over a surprised Sevenoaks, we won
the inaugural BSDRA National
Championships.
On 16 th September 1994 I was
introduced by Simon Woolley to a
girl called Pip in the Wykeham Arms.
By July the following year we were
married; by September 2000 we had
three children, a fourth on the way,
and were moving into Kingsgate
House to succeed Michael Nevin as
Housemaster. We had ten wonderful
years in Beloe’s, including the
13
centenary celebrations in 2005. Then
Mark Romans took over in 2010. In
fact we swapped, as I took over the
sailing from him, winning the BSDRA
Nationals for the second time in 2017
after several near misses.
By then, I knew that I was living with
a problem, a small tumour, probably
benign, but unfortunately lodged right
inside my spinal column. The MRI
scan showed a small disc, reminiscent
of the eye of Mars, lodged in amongst
the nerves. We decided to wait and
see, since removal of the tumour had
only a 75% success rate. Cheerily the
surgeon revealed that failure would
only leave me paralysed from the chest
down, and that I would still have full
use of my arms. Waiting seemed a
better option.
Truth to tell, I found it easy enough
to forget about the tumour. But in the
spring of 2018, things began to unravel
more significantly and something
needed to be done. It was time to
gamble, and the date was set for 16 th
June. The good news was that the
success rate had by then increased to
90%, and my surgeon was yet to have a
failure. As I walked into the hospital,
it felt a bit like the beginning of term
at Sedbergh. Except louder and more
vivid.
My memories of regaining
consciousness after a seven-hour
operation are confused, no doubt
partly because of the anaesthetic
and the morphine that followed it.
For Pip it was much harder. Having
removed the tumour, the surgeon
looked on helplessly as the neural
connection between my head and toes
broke down. My life had dramatically
changed for ever, as had hers.
After a week at Southampton
General Hospital, I was transferred
to the spinal injury unit at Salisbury.
The Salisbury spinal unit serves the
whole of the south of England. These