MY VERSION OF EVENTS....

In early 2017, I was asked to go and speak to the sixth form of Archbishop Tenison's school in the Oval, south London about my book 'Noisy at the wrong times' in which I tell the story of my own school, Woolverstone Hall, and its role in lifting me, psychologically at least, out of the inner city. The chair of governors had read it and felt my experience and background might chime with the students. Facing a room full of clearly unimpressed 17 and 18 year olds turned out to be more daunting than standing on a stage speaking to a thousand patrons; writ large on what felt like every face was the question 'why are we listening to a bloke who works for an opera company?' I don't think one student looked at me as I began to speak, and they did what I would have done at their age, showing their suspicion and doubt by looking at the ceiling or at each other. It was only when I got to the part about my brother's death and my own myriad misdemeanours that they began