Age 7:  1969 – 70

 

One day at school, fish and chips (everyone’s favourite!) is being served for lunch. The smell and the anticipation are delightful. Michael Swallow, who is from my class and seems a bit of a harmless rogue, decides to push into the queue in front of me when I am nearly at the counter. I am outraged, but – in a supreme moment of forgiveness, of which both Jesus and Mr Campbell would approve – I decide to let him go ahead, to not worry about it. I calmly deduce that this will result in nothing more than me getting my fish and chips just a few seconds later. Michael Swallow reaches the front and has to specify his choice: fish and chips, or cheese and egg flan? It’s a mere formality. I notice that he receives the last portion of fish and chips from the trays on the counter.

I reach the counter and the hideous truth is revealed to me when my meal preference is not requested by the dinner lady. There are no more trays of fish and chips. Michael Swallow got the last fish and chips! Those should have been my fish and chips. He and I realise this at the same instant. He is just walking past me with his tray of ill-gotten gains when his eyes and mine lock together, and I can see a hint of guilty acknowledgement in his face. But then he averts his gaze and hurries away. I am angry, furious; I feel bitter and cheated.

I look sullenly at what is put on my plate. A square of cheese and egg flan that looks like dry sick. A round splodge of implausibly white mashed potato, which I know from experience is utterly tasteless. A blob of some green mush that used to be vegetables, all appetising texture and goodness having been scrupulously boiled out of them. This is what kindness and forgiveness get you.

 

 

 

Age 11:  1973 – 74

 

In school, Mr Todd is reading to us extracts from The Diary of Anne Frank, a Jewish girl who hid from the Nazis in an attic in Amsterdam, along with her family. I listen with solemn attention, as does the rest of the class. I find it hard to believe that these events happened such a short time ago, in Europe, and it was white people doing this to other white people.

Mr Todd never finishes reading this book to us, but I pick it up from his desk while I am waiting in line to have my exercise book marked, and I go straight to the end to see what happened. The notes say that Anne Frank died in a concentration camp at the age of fifteen. I feel utter horror as I absorb the details of this, and I imagine Anne Frank’s family being my family. I feel a lump in my throat and tears begin to well up in my eyes. I try to regain my composure before anyone notices.

 

 

 

Age 12:  1974 – 75

 

It is September. The time has finally come to enter Hampton Grammar School. I remember Mr Ford’s dire warning about secondary (high) schools and I am afraid. But I am also proud and excited to wear the uniform: black blazer and trousers; the school badge with rampant lions, sewn by my mother onto my breast pocket; white shirt and school tie.

This morning it is pouring heavily with rain and I sit at home reading the latest Reader’s Digest; there is an article about bullying in schools. I am the last one to leave the house, as Hampton Grammar School is only a few minutes’ walk away.

Finally, I head out towards the school with trepidation, carrying my attaché case, which my father has given me. A Prefect, standing outside in the downpour, directs the newcomers into the dining hall, where we sit bedraggled, wet, apprehensive and silent. Then we are herded into the main hall, to a very formal and solemn Assembly. A Prefect performs a reading from the Bible: the Parable of the Sower.

 

And as he sowed, some seeds fell along the path, and the birds came and devoured them. Other seeds fell on rocky ground, where they had not much soil, and immediately they sprang up, since they had no depth of soil, but when the sun rose they were scorched; and since they had no root they withered away. Other seeds fell upon thorns, and the thorns grew up and choked them. Other seeds fell on good soil and brought forth grain, some a hundredfold, some sixty, some thirty.

 

The seeds – that’s us, the new boys. Hampton Grammar School is a good place for us to grow. I know that in some schools, intellectuals and ‘good’ pupils are terrorised by ignorant thugs and cannot thrive.

 

Hampton Grammar School is indeed a very dignified and daunting place: polished wooden parquet flooring; cloisters; impressive artwork; Latin lessons. We are called by our last names, to emphasise that we are not children anymore. The lessons are serious, the teachers seem sombre, and the homework is a huge burden. Whatever homework is due in the following week, I always leave for the weekend. So, Sunday mornings become miserable. I wake up to face the prospect of homework in six, seven, maybe even eight subjects which needs to be covered (after I come back from the Islamic school at lunchtime). I hate Sundays and that homework feeling.