I have been thinking about the two or three months after I was expelled from school - on the last day of my last term.
Usually - including elsewhere here http://alphamin.blog.co.uk/2007/02/16/making_a_man_of_me_perhaps_a_monkey~1753638/ - I have presented the episode with wry amusement. I was never given a specific reason for being thrown out, except that the Headmaster feared I would ring-lead a last minute, spectacular rebellion - along the lines of the film If, which - in fact - was made several years later.
There were no such plans. We were bored with school, and longing to leave it.
On the other hand, I wanted to say good-bye to all my friends, and exchange home addresses and phone numbers. I had only made a substantial number of friends in my last year.
But, because I had to leave in a hurry (my father was summoned) there were no good-byes, and I only stayed in touch with one or two.
I cannot explain how devastated I felt, or why.
For months afterwards, I felt depressed, rootless, morose. It's the only time I ever remember considering suicide - staring the third, electric rail alongside Platform 3 on Surbiton station in August that year.
At the time, I was still very close to my father and I told him about wanting to throw myself on to the track. "Don't be silly" he said dismissively. I never let myself be silly again.
