My rich Uncle ‘Cush’, who had been to a grammar school himself, had wanted to send me to one of the finest public schools in England, and had to be dissuaded from entering me for Eton. He then died unexpectedly and under-insured. After much deliberation and a review of possibilities, my name was entered for Bedford School.
Bedford was heavily endowed, which put it just within my parents’ reach with help from my grandfather as long as I was a day-boarder. There were in those days four schools in Bedford operated within the Harpur Trust, offering fee levels that were subsidised by the Trust. Two of these were boys’ public schools, each of comparable and high academic standard. My own intended school cost about fifty quid a year more than the other. The difference in snob value, however, was immense and it was supposed to be harder to get in. At once I was deemed to be of Great Expectations. Ladies in the street would be impressed when my mother spoke of it. Much later in life, I discovered I had featured in several lists of eligible bachelors, by mothers of daughters who did not even know me, but only my school.