1992 had been a great year, but 1993 was the most disciplined year that I have ever had. I returned to university and accepted that if I wanted to become a chartered surveyor then I had to put my degree first. Ironically, I also played some of my best rugby and discovered a side to me that would prove invaluable in my future business career.
I had been picked for my country at England B level and lost my mother in the space of two years, yet my tutors gave me no dispensation. The rules were the rules and you had to abide by them. Returning to university to attend the lectures that I should have been at the year before was a valuable life lesson. I had never taken my studies lightly and even in that final year I thought I had done enough to pass the degree and start my job at a firm of chartered surveyors called Connell Wilson in Northampton. My mentor and boss at Connell Wilson, Tony Hewitt, attempted in vain to explain my circumstances to my course leader Paul Collins, but with no luck. He thought that I had mitigating circumstances; however, the university wasn’t willing to set a precedent. Life was very easy for me during 1992, everything I had wanted I had got, and I was having a rude awakening.
