Last day before the Easter Holiday.
My diary entry is, on the face of it, curious or even spurious in the extreme. I make reference to the return of a lad, who was a year older than me who had finished his time at sixth form a year previously and by now must have been happily ensconced in his chosen University. Now he wasn’t just any old ‘lad’ – he was in fact the son of our Maths lecturer and had been in my form. So this was no random pestering… oh no sir.
As far as the football went, our ‘house’ managed a creditable joint second, or joint last… depending upon whether ones glass is half full or half empty.