I arrived at Honington to find that all students were squeezed into Mess annex 'Orlit' huts in rooms the size of a broom cupboard - whilst beanstealers various lived in the real rooms for free.
Our 'welcome drinks' evening was an 'ignore the students and talk amongst yourselves' session amongst the staff - we sat on a rolled up carpet and swapped notes. The wife of the Grumpy Old Wg Cdr snootily asked one of the wives "And which course are you?".. Big mistake - she'd crossed swords with Gilly, the fiery little Scots wife of the ab-initio nav who promptly put her right..."I am not on any course! My husband is Fg Off B***y A******n - he's sitting over there with his friends!". (He later graduated - the only ab-initio nav to do so).
Then we had our intro to the Stn Cdr. This shaven-headed martinet stormed in wearing his goon suit, glared at everyone - then told us that most of us would probably fail the course. Then stormed out. (Rumour has it he later fell foul of a paternity suit after a Red Flag det when some American woman turned up on his doorstep with a baby and announced "This is yours!". Rumour, I hasten to add!).
As for the staff, the best guy was probably 'Firm but fair' Bruce Chapple. An excellent pilot and someone who demanded high standards. But who actually gave credit on the rare occasions it was due... But, bar one or two such as Rick W and Steve N, the rest of the RAF pilots were very cliquey and unpleasant. The RN back seaters were good guys, as were a few (very few) of the RAF ones, such as 'Pidge' Holme. As for the RN 'pilots', there was one bearded poseur who used to strut around in a 'uniform' consisting of RN shirt, tie, trousers and mess boots plus a USN leather jacket....
One day a notice went up inviting everyone to a Dining In Night. It actually said 'Order of priority - 1. Those who didn't go last time. 2. Those who did go last time. 3. Students'. When Rick W was despatched to find why none of us had put our names down, Joe 'Mad Dog' H laid into him..."Because it's bloody obvious you don't want us there!".
Given the fact that I was hardly the best student in the world, plus the appallingly bad learning environment, it wasn't long before I went up on my final trip with a thoroughly unpleasant piece of work in the back. At some stage he announced that we'd had a simulated birdstrike and lost the intercomm - so do your own PD to Coningsby. Now, since we'd been taught that the Bucc was a crew aircraft, this was probably a double if not triple emergency. Got out my FRCs, waded through pages of drills, then flew a GCA to Coningsby. But made the mistake of flying it 45-25-25 blown instead of 45-10-10 unblown or 30-20-20 blown (both SE configurations and a good idea in case you lost a donk - although there was nothing to remind you of such in the FRCs). Lost the debrief, a few months off and then off to the brilliant Vulcan world for 3 fantastic years after a thoroughly enjoyable time holding at Biggin Hill (ahh - those Fighter Controller girls...) and a JP refesher course!
I later heard that 237 had come under the spotlight for using 100% of their hours, but graduating 30% of their allocated students. Then the 'staff bombing competitions' and the like came to the surface, and things evidently changed.
237 OCU? Without a shadow of a doubt the worst 4 months of my RAF career.