School memories

Your school in three words? Cathedral, smalltown, Fens.

I made several lifelong friends. Although I knew my best friend, Jack Ringer, before we arrived. Both our fathers were Newmarket trainers. Jack followed them into horse racing. I took a di erent path.

I had four: to be a novelist, to be an Oxford Don, to be an actor, and to play international rugby. Two out of four ain’t bad, as Meatloaf almost sang. The only person I know who has successfully nailed the latter two is Javier Bardem.

Harry enjoyed his fair share of detentions for trips to the bookmakers

I played rugby and tennis for the school. But it was a small school then, and not that hard to get into the teams. King’s has superb playing fi elds and that gave me a love of sport.

Only one – a fountain pen for the most improved handwriting. Given that I still write with an indecipherable scrawl, I presumably couldn’t write at all before that.

My favourite teacher was Mark Wilkinson, who had the misfortune of trying to teach us geography. He impressed me enormously. When my sons went to King’s, I was amazed and delighted that

Mark (still seems odd to call Mr Wilkinson that!) was still there, coaching rowing.

Getting caught coming out of the bookmakers on the market square. It happened more than once.

Harry (middle of back row) in his King’s days

As I have no recollection of the food, it can’t have been too bad. However, I do remember having to write an essay on manners. It started with, ‘It is not good manners to shout down the table “more spuds, no custard”’. A mantra for life.

Secluded spots in Cherry Hill Park and the Stagecoach Café for meeting girls.

Some teachers seemed to like me. The headmaster was very supportive, writing glowing reports for mathematics; a subject at which I was terrible. I suspect he might have confused me with Sillitoe, the boy alphabetically next to me. There was quite a bit of detention (usually because of the bookmakers).

Despite the solitary (and ultimately selfi sh) life and pursuits of a novelist, I still see myself as a team player. That self-image, however, can wear a little thin in interminable academic meetings. My colleagues at Oxford may well have a di erent view of me.

Don`t shout “more spuds, no custard” at the table.

As being insu erable, I imagine.