My finest hour

I grew up in Edinburgh. I went to one of the best local primary schools, Dean Park in Balerno.

But when I was eleven I had to go to the big school, Currie High. The building was forbidding, the teachers were a bottle of alcoholics and the dinners were disgusting. A friend of mine, Duffy, was rude about the meat pies to the dinner lady. These were a concoction that Sweeney Todd would think twice about serving to the public.

Mrs. Fletcher, a formidable lady comparable to the Trunchbull in Matilda, decided to organise a witch-hunt. She came to our music lesson and singled out poor Duffy. He was told to stand in front of the class to answer for his crime. Fletcher then asked if any amongst us had also been rude about the pies.

This was my Spartacus moment. My chance to stand alongside my friend. We all knew that the pies were unfit for purpose. Pathetically I did nothing. It's my greatest regret.

But years later at college I had a chance to redeem myself. The Student Union had put forward a motion that we should sponsor a South African student. Everyone agreed with this fine act. I had marched against Apartheid that summer in London.

But they had no oppostion. And the meeting was not quorate. They had to run around the college grounds dragging people to the meeting to get the required 10% of the student body to pass the motion. They proposed the motion. Then they asked if anyone would speak against it.

I stood up. I was shaking. But I knew that I had to speak against the fact that they had no opposition. There were cries of "Fascist" and "Nazi" as I walked to the podium.

Somehow I managed to say a few words about how the English legal system always required an opposition. In the Hollywood version of my life I will be played by Morgan Freeman and I will be calm & eloquent. In reality I was probably as loquacious as Colin Firth in the King's Speech.

But I did it. I had my Spartacus moment.