Despite the appalling institutionalised thuggery that the law allowed in those days, my 5 year’s here eventually sent me out into the real world of work armed with a handful of ‘real’ ‘O Levels’. Actually, I got 5, after ‘The Martian’ had confidently predicted that I wouldn’t get any. But they were enough to get me a job at a time when a minimum of 2 ‘O Levels’ virtually guaranteed you something to bring in the pennies. Sadly, I never really got an opportunity to shove the certificate up ‘The Martian’s’ nose, or other suitable orifice.

The next few pages contain not only some of my own recollections, but also those of some of my contemporaries in those dark days - nowadays relived in varying degrees of regret and hilarity during occasional drinking sessions at The White Swan in Upper Street Highbury.

It may also be worth noting that many of us, now parents, have difficulty in persuading our incredulous offspring that these stories are true. Possibly embellished with age and retelling, but true nonetheless.

There is also a news group called ‘Another Highbury’ where we ‘meet’ on line. Why not join us?

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