When my teacher wrote me a report saying that I’d never make anything of my life, I vowed that one day I would make him eat his words.
I finally had that opportunity last week and I kept my teenage promise. I have to confess that it left me feeling a little hollow though; something about a 47 year-old-man force feeding paper to a man in the final stages of lung cancer whilst he lay in his hospice bed seemed somehow to strip us both of our dignity.