In September 1971 I went to 'big school'. Much to my parents delight I had passed the 11+ and, consequently, ended up at Farnham Grammar School in, yes, you guessed it, Farnham. However, in the Christmas exams things looked like they were no longer going to plan as I only secured a 'seriously disappointing' 33% in Maths, Physics, Chemistry and History. And my recollection is that the rest of the results were, um, inauspicious. It really hadn't helped that they'd forgotten to teach me about Agricola at primary school - which explains why I sat through a whole term of history wondering why my teacher kept interchanging the name of a well known fizzy drink with the alleged inventor of farming. The advent of 1972 wasn't a happy one.

In October 1980 I went to 'big university'. Not having learnt from my earlier mistake, for a second time I put smiles on mummy's and daddy's faces by getting into Cherwell Poly. On this occasion it didn't take until Michelmas (and, believe me, it's Michelmas and not Christmas) to realise that what I'd picked up at school - and in my year out (I was briefly in charge of effluent at her local leather factory I'll have you know) - was not what was actually required for a successful period in higher education.