And so it went on from one drunken disaster to the next

And so it went on from one drunken disaster to the next. I’d always managed to be pretty conscientious at school but years of hard study were ruined in a weekend away on a geography field trip to Snowdonia. My friend Kat and I stocked up with gin and vodka, not to mention the 200 cigarettes, for the lengthy coach trip between Yorkshire and Wales.

You know how boring coach journeys can be? Well, to pass the time we swigged back the booze, passing the bottle around to our schoolmates and our newfound friends from two other schools who, like us, found themselves on a bus to nowhere all in the name of education. 

By the time we got to our grotty hostel we were plastered. Events deteriorated. By that night we had systematically destroyed our bedroom for fun, pulling apart towel rails, dismantling curtain poles and breaking bedside tables in half. We leant out of the window and jeered at the local yobs in our gingham nighties and persuaded them to go in and visit our geography teacher. Which they did  -and she called the police and they were taken away on assault charges.

The next day we were meant to stagger up Snowdonia as part of our geography ‘O’ level course. The only thing I succeeded in doing was getting hopelessly lost and the bus back to the grim hostel was held up while everyone waited for me. I’ve now ruled out orienteering as a possible hobby.