I was small when I went to Geoffrey Field School in Reading. There was a bigger boy who made a sport of pushing me aside and spitting near my feet. I never fought back. I wasn't built for it. I carried the anger quietly instead. One week our teacher made me responsible for handing out the free milk bottles at break time. Twenty-four of them, packed in a crate. I saw my chance before I knew I was taking it. I climbed up on the ledge above the doorway and waited. When he came through laughing, I tipped the crate. He went to hospital but was fine. I had to stand in the corner every morning for weeks as punishment. I should feel ashamed when I remember it. Instead, the truth is harder ' part of me still smiles.