The most enjoyable activity at Kings was cycling with friends in the Cotswold countryside and villages during the summer. How beautiful was Bourton then without tourists? The Top road Cafe was no more but egg and chips in Northleach was a treat.

A gang of us were befriended by Jack S Lee (teacher 1965 to 1967). He taught us to ring church bells in the adjoining church. At weekends we would then 'invade' other local parish churches uninvited to ring their bells. After a while the local vicar would arrive to investigate. He was usually dumbfounded to find novice campanologists led by a Catholic brother, usually dressed in his cassock!

JSL also got us into making wine, but by the time it was (un)drinkable the school had imploded. He also took a couple of us to poach a goose one night. We didn't even cook and eat it. The worst bit was that I had to wear my grey trousers stained with dry blood until the end of term. I was terrified the cops would find us. Lee also arranged for his gang of about six to have their own dorm next door to his room. At the time there did not seem to be anything suspicious in this.......

There wasn't much else that was any fun. The winters were freezing, the food was awful and if you left the valves in your bicycle they were stolen. So, one had to pump one’s tyres before every outing. Working in the servery had its benefits of extra rations, but then you were late for 'Top of the Pops' on Thursday night because you had to wash up.

I attended 6 boarding schools from the age of five. Four were secondary schools and Kings was the third high school in a period of 13 months. The final five of my six high school years were spent away from home in Kenya so I was used to being the new boy and coping with (not managing) the situation.

The things that I learned was how to be independent and how NOT to be able to conduct an intimate relationship, even to this day. According to psychologists this is normal 'boarding school syndrome' developed by pupils of our era and up until the 80s. (Those interested can read, 'Stiff upper lip' by Alex Renton.) King’s was the worst. I was there from January '66 to April '67, a term before it closed. The demise began a month after I arrived, with the Sunday Telegraph and Mirror reports of mass staff resignations and boys running away. It was the same time as the mysterious disappearance of a senior boy. Rumours developed as to his fate and there was talk of him having been removed on a stretcher. Alive or not? A mock trial ensued, boys called their parents, the press arrived and we were told in an assembly not to talk to them. Things seem to unravel from then on.

I don't think I learnt anything useful at Kings that contributed to passing any O levels. When I arrived at my final school four terms away from sitting O levels, I was so far behind academically that I was still sitting O levels during my first A level year. Thankfully I got the required A level grades to study to become a vet.

Our parents had a contract with JHM. In my opinion he breached it. They paid their fees and he was supposed to provide an environment conducive to providing a good education. What did they get? A high turnover of inexperienced academic staff, poor facilities, (no science laboratories or decent library), their sons abused and used as 'slave labour', and boys of low academic ability punished, sometimes caned, for obtaining low marks.

The enforced labour was carried out by boys called Stalwarts. I presume this nomenclature was supposed to give some credibility to the practice. They were 'rewarded' (bribed?) with their own common room. The head stalwart in my time, was Stephen Craven, was 'dating' JHM's (step) daughter. Prefects, who at times were relied upon to maintain discipline when young teachers couldn't, were rewarded with dinners.

The intercom system was a hated, intrusive and counterproductive measure. Bullying was average and there was no fagging, which I had to do in two previous high schools. It is basically organized bullying. One chore was the fag having to sit on the toilet seat to warm it up for the prefect! The classical music evenings were so boring, more of a punishment. Having been used to bathing daily in Africa, weekly baths came as a culture shock. Changes of socks and underwear were about as infrequent.

One lived in fear of Mosey's wrath. Hearing anecdotes of his loss of temper, striking and kicking boys, loss of control while caning, public beatings and washing mouths out with soap, it is a wonder any of us survived to become normal adults. Maybe we didn't.

When it became evident that Kings was no longer viable, Lee arranged for some boys whose parents were overseas, to leave and go to Crookham Court in Newbury. This for some could have been a case of, 'Out of the frying pan into the fire'. (See the FB page 'Survivors of Crookham Court'.) Luckily, I found another good school.