Prologue
When I was a boy of twelve or thirteen, I attended the Isis Private School in Bolton, Lancashire, during the 1960s. Those were curious years—grey skies, strict discipline, and the faint scent of chalk and polish in every corridor. Many moments from that time have stayed with me, small dramas involving teachers, classmates, and the strange rituals of school life—some about affection, others about punishment, and many about the odd behaviour (as I see it now) of both adults and children.
This is one of those moments.
