The best year of junior school was the last one. Not because I wanted to leave but because I adored my class teacher. I wanted to live it twice over. Mr Patterson was his name. Scottish, fun, caring. I fancied him of course. He called me Jolly Fudge (my birth name was Holly Judge). He made me feel cool. I thought him wonderful. He came in half way through the year on supply. How lucky. I tried to find him many years later to say thank you, but with no luck.

My best friend at school, Katherine, and I would sit on the boy’s table. We liked the boys because they did silly things and made us laugh - they drew rude pictures, said naughty things, did weird challenges like biting their little fingers hard, linking them together and then pulling them apart with force. Who came up with that? Seriously. It hurts. Kids are so crazy sometimes.

I was a prefect. I put the classical cassette tapes on as everyone walked into assembly. I felt important. I had one problem in assembly - there was a girl who stared at me like she couldn’t stand me. I didn’t know why and I didn’t like it. So I made a pact with myself to stare back at her. I always looked away though. Damn it was hard not to. It was a big deal. A hard task. No one likes to stare someone out, especially if they’re a bit afraid. But one morning, after months of her eyes boring into me and me looking away, I made my stand. I stared at her like I’d never stared at anyone before. And she looked away. I was victorious.