The last days of my school life were…thrilling.
I had, by virtue of becoming friends with a boy called Chris, elevated myself from fringe figure to cool kid.
I wasn’t popular.
But I was, suddenly and inexplicably, cool.
Much of this was down to the fact that both Chris and I had developed an obsession with “Quadrophenia”.
We commandeered the video and television in the common room every morning so that we could watch it before lessons.
We wore Fred Perry shirts and parka’s.
We thought we were faces.
Better dressed than Sting.
Jimmy was cooler.