I had rather naively conceived of Cambridge as being essentially like school, a prison still, but with more spacious courts and a measure of greater freedom. Instead I found a place of unimagined delights. The friendship and esteem of my fellows no longer depended upon proficiency at games; and, if preoccupation with the works of Asian mystics were eccentricity bordering on madness – the Haileybury view – at least there were other lunatics with whom I could enjoy myself. Yet even this happy discovery did not convince me that my Cambridge life could be more than a pleasant interlude, a more easily endured prolongation of what, over-romantically, I termed my 'exile’.
John Blofeld, The Wheel Of Life. Berkeley, Shambala, 1959.