Another year brought new students to the ageing institution that was Connell University. Much like the institution, the Gender Studies department I worked within was full of ageing old lesbians like myself.
I co-ordinated the Gender Studies masters programme which was usually full of young women who had just finished university and wanted to widen their horizons.
That's how I met Morven.
She had long brown hair, blue eyes and skin the colour of a milk bottle. She had large breasts and a vast bottom. Some of her stomach hung over her jeans and I could detect an overhang when she turned to the side. She was captivating. She sat down in the second row and got out a notebook and pen. Whilst waiting on the lecture to start, I noted she was reading a book - "The Beauty Myth" by Naomi Wolf. She was clearly interested in feminist theory.
As the room filled, I paced the room waiting for the students to take their seats. This year, there were two men on the course which was the most I had ever had. I started the lecture and welcomed the students along to the course and outlined what they would be studying and what would be expected of them.
After the lecture, she was the last to leave. "I noted you are already very acquainted with Ms Wolf, then?" I asked her as she was leaving. "Oh yes, I read it when I was an undergraduate, but I thought it might be good to read it again."
"It is an important book and probably scores you brownie points in my eyes." I told her, as I wiped the notes off of the board. She laughed and put the book in her bag. It was important particularly because neither of us were conventionally attractive. Whilst I found her attractive in my eyes with her voluptuous figure, she would be considered too fat to be beautiful.
I was much the same. I was tall, with short ginger hair and I am rather fat, too. I wore glasses in a classic 50s style like Dame Edna and bright red lipstick to make the best of a bad bunch. "I like your glasses." She told me. I felt quite flattered - I did love my glasses, but I had never had a woman as young as she was pointing them out to me.
We walked out of the lecture theatre together and went our separate ways. "See you at the seminar next week, Serena!" She called, cheerily as she went off for a coffee.
The following week, she wore a skater style skirt with a red and white gingham shirt and red lipstick. She sat closer to the front and joined in with the discussion about the history of the feminist movement. She disagreed with my portrayal of the movement in Britain. "I just feel that this glosses over and doesn't say very much about the contribution from working class women in Scotland, for example. You don't really mention their role in the rent strikes and securing fairer conditions for housing in Glasgow and beyond."
Whilst it is easy for academics to say things like this are deliberate, it was entirely deliberate because the students should have knowledge of the Red Clydeside Women's movement. I was heartened to see at least one student knew about it.
After this interjection, Morven started hanging back after lectures and seminars to discuss the topics more with me and some of the other students. Her contributions were often radical and, for the most part, based on good reading. I began building a good raport with her.
At Christmas time, the students decided to throw a Gender Studies party and invited me along, with a few other staff members. Morven was there with a small group of other women that she had become friendly with over the course of the first semester. They had all scored at the top of the class on their main assignment of the year, with Morven scoring the best. To celebrate, I bought them a round of drinks.
Staff members and students began trailing off until Morven and I were the last women standing. We were quite merry and had had very little to eat, so, I asked if she wanted to come to dinner with me. She looked at me the way a fawn would look at a deer, with wonder and astonishment. "We could go into town." I added, looking at her directly in the eye.
We hailed a taxi into town and went to Giovanni's, a well known and expensive Italian restaurant which was the best restaurant in town.
"Oh, Serena. I could never afford this. We should go somewhere else." She protested. "Oh what a nonsense. Please let it be my treat for doing so well in your first semester." I replied, patting the small of her back and leading her in.
When we sat down, Morven began to talk about work and the course. Encouraged by the cheap wine I had consumed at the Christmas party, I put my hand on hers and told her that I wasn't here to talk about the course, or work.
