Perrott Hill 3

I cannot recount my days at Perrott Hill School without writing something about my old friend Richard Cottrell, a colleague, fellow wine lover and comrade-in-arms. Richard taught French and he started at P.H.S. at same time as me, so it was natural that we found ourselves in each other’s company rather a lot. 

Each evening, after a long day of teaching, afternoon games and boarding supervision, we would have supper together, discuss the highs and lows of a prep schoolmaster’s daily life and drink a glass or two of wine. Usually a cooked meal was left for us in the downstairs kitchen and we would carry our supper up to my room, as Richard's room was right next to the dormitories and so we would have no privacy. During my four years at Perrott, Richard and I became friends and a couple of times I even stayed at his home in Tonbridge. Most of Richard's family worked in the City and were doing rather well for themselves, so it was a matter of some surprise that anyone they knew could possibly want to be a teacher.