Private Plane
Late January 1986. I'm in a Computer Studies lesson in Stanwell School, Penarth. We've crawled up all the stairs to the computer suite at the top of the Old Block, we're exhausted and cold because the heating isn't working, and we're waiting for our teacher Mrs Mulrooney to appear. Now I always got on well with Mrs Mulrooney. Over the years she'd taught me science, maths and computer studies, and had been my form teacher for a few years. Whereas other lads were fancying the female PE mistresses or the young exotic French teacher, I had a bit of a crush on Mrs Mulrooney. There was something mumsy about her, those chunky knitted jumpers, the casual trousers, it seemed she didn't really care what she wore, it was functional and practical. So on that day in January 1986, when she walked into the classroom in a smart dark blue skirt, blouse and blazer - a suit, basically - we were all a bit shocked. But only one person put that shock into words. From the back o...