Born in Beverley, East Yorkshire, Geoffrey Care’s story begins in Ilkley, at Willow Prep School during the early years of the Second World War. He described it as “a strange commune”, shaped as much by circumstance as by philosophy. Teachers were scarce, often conscientious objectors, and the curriculum was unconventional: Latin, Greek, mass geography and, every day, current affairs.

“Each day there’d be a session with The Times on what was happening” he recalled. “It wasn’t a question of cramming the boys with information. It was teaching them how to think.”

That emphasis on independence and resilience was literal. Winters were spent on the moors, often for hours at a time, and boys aged nine to fourteen learned together in the same classrooms. When the school closed in the mid-1940s, Geoffrey and several friends, including John Ellison (Wright House 1942-47), were placed at Trent, beginning a formative chapter of his life. 

“It wasn’t a question of cramming the boys with a whole load of information.
It was teaching them how to think.”

Arriving at Trent during wartime, Geoffrey entered a world shaped by national urgency and local responsibility. Under Headmaster Mr R. G. (Spike) Ikin, boys were not shielded from reality. “We were very much in the war” Geoffrey said, “but experiencing it in our own schoolboy way.”

As part of the Cadet Corps, led by Charlie Lang, nephew of the Archbishop of Canterbury, and Sergeant Major Kemp, Geoffrey trained on Salisbury Plain, crawled through field exercises, and even joined minesweepers during school holidays. Trent boys were also called upon during severe flooding in Long Eaton and Sawley, organising rescue efforts in coordination with the local police. “We knew how to operate a system” Geoffrey said, “and we came into contact with people in the town.” These experiences fostered confidence, practical leadership and a strong sense of service.

“They didn’t hide you away from the war. It was there, it was real,
and you experienced it in your own schoolboy way.”

Alongside this, Trent nurtured his intellectual and creative life. Under Mr W. L. (Bill) Melton, Geoffrey discovered a love of acting, performing in St Joan, Euodias and Macbeth. “It gave me confidence in front of an audience” he said, and helped him understand how language, interpretation and presentation work together, skills that would later underpin a life in advocacy.

“Standing on stage and performing was probably preparing me for advocacy years.
I’ve never been afraid of an audience.”

Other teachers left lasting impressions. Milton, who had fought in the Spanish Civil War and spoke fluent French and Spanish, arranged for Geoffrey to spend a summer immersed in rural France, to develop his language skills. Reverand (Daddy) Warner represented the firm discipline of the time. Together, these influences shaped a broad, outward-looking education.

That independence surfaced again in the summer of 1947, when Geoffrey and three Trent friends set off on a cycling trip through France. During a rest stop, one of the boys, John Herklots (Hanbury, 1944-49) aged just sixteen, decided to continue cycling alone. The other boys never heard from him again. Life moved on, and decades passed.

Then, in 2013, Geoffrey tracked John down. Now Canon Herklots, he had joined the Army before studying History at Cambridge. When the old friends met again, it was the first time they had seen one another in 65 years. It was, Geoffrey recalled, a deeply moving reunion, one that spoke to the enduring threads of friendship and the long arcs of life.

After Trent, Geoffrey trained as a solicitor in Hull under Sir Robert Payne, later President of the Law Society, qualifying in 1952 before completing National Service. During his Army service, he undertook court-martial defence work, including securing the acquittal of a recidivist AWOL gunner, an experience that tested both his legal judgement and moral resolve.

In 1956, Geoffrey made a decision that would shape the rest of his life: he left England for Northern Rhodesia (now Zambia). Joining a litigation firm on the Copperbelt, one of the few willing to act for African clients, he worked extensively on the Poor Prisoners Defence Scheme and became deeply involved in advocacy at every level of the courts. His clients ranged from “the ordinary man in the street” to nationalist figures such as Kenneth Kaunda and Harry Nkumbula during a period of intense political change.

He was also involved in the aftermath of the Alice Lenshina uprising, persuading its leader to surrender on the promise of an inquiry and fair treatment, an attempt to restore stability during a moment of real national fragility. Geoffrey’s principle was clear: “It is not professional to refuse to act for someone in unpopular circumstances… If one is not prepared to do so, don’t become an advocate.”

"It taught you to be accepting of others and to have a tolerance for people. We need that today as much as we did then.”

Life in Zambia was not defined solely by the courtroom. Geoffrey embraced it with energy and humour. He water-skied on lakes “defying the crocodiles at times very stupidly”, explored the country in a converted VW Kombi, and travelled vast distances to court, often on challenging roads.  Judicial circuits were frequently flown in Dakota (DC3) aircraft, which he remembered fondly as “a marvellous plane”, capable of being flown even when hydraulics failed.

On one memorable journey, a fellow passenger urgently needed the bathroom. With no facilities on board, they landed the aircraft in a field so Geoffrey’s companion could relieve himself. “Somehow” he recalled, “we managed to get back into the air again without crashing into the maize field or any trees.”

Other adventures included climbing Kilimanjaro in the rainy season, plugging petrol tank leaks with soap, and driving through floodwaters higher than the exhaust; lessons in ingenuity learned far from textbooks.

“You learnt very quickly that you had to deal with what was in front of you,
and often with a sense of humour.”

Geoffrey went on to become State Counsel, then a judge in Zambia, before returning to the UK as an Immigration Judge. He played a founding role in establishing the International Association of Refugee Law Judges, bringing together judges from across the world to improve consistency and fairness in refugee law. “To get it all up and running” he said, “I must have travelled the equivalent of twice round the world at least.”

Looking back, Geoffrey is clear about the influence of his education. “Trent opened doors of the mind” he said. “It taught you to be acceptable of others and to have tolerance for other people.”

“I don’t believe in retirement.  People have a wealth of wisdom acquired,
and the question is how you can share it.”

He remains passionate about connection between generations. For pupils and young alumni, his message is both practical and hopeful: take opportunities, remain open to people and ideas, and don’t be afraid of paths that feel uncertain.

A life approached with curiosity, courage and integrity, Geoffrey’s story reminds us, can take you far beyond the expected. Education, after all, is not just preparation for work, but preparation for life.

“What matters is how open you are to learning, and what you choose to take from it.”

(Left: Geoffrey with Jo Slater, Trent Alumni Office, during visit in October 2025. Right: Geoffrey with his wife, Grace)

Editor’s note: This feature draws on Geoffrey's written reflections and conversations with Geoffrey (Wright, 1942–47) and his wife Grace, following a visit with them at their home in Filey (October 2025).