Why I betrayed my friend over a bottle of rum
There are moments in a boy’s adolescence when he catches a glimpse of the man he will become. Faced with adversity, is he the brave sort – or the sort who runs away and lets others suffer? Aged 13, on a school trip to Portsmouth, I discovered I was the latter. Tom insisted he’d found the bottles on a street, which made him sound considerably weirder than he was It was my first year at Bradfield College, a boarding school in Berkshire. About a hundred of us new boys packed on a coach. I vaguely recall the hooligan energy of too many young males in a small space: over-excited heads popping up to shout swear words in the direction of the staff at the front, then ducking down to avoid censure.