Karen reminds me that I didn't finish the story of my childhood, the first part of which I blogged in February. I left off at the age of 12.

9. St Mark's High School, Mbabane, Swaziland, age 12 to 15.
St Mark's was established in 1910 by Rev. Christopher Watts, as a school for white children in this small African country. By the time I attended, the situation had reversed, and my brother and I were almost the only white kids boarding at the hostel. The school tried hard to hold on to its public school traditions, so we had housemasters supervising prep in the common room, and wore a uniform suitable for the English climate, not the blazing African sun. Educational standards had fallen, making annual prize-givings 'Me Night', as I scooped almost every available award.

10. Waterford-Kamhlaba, Mbabane, Swaziland, age 15 to 17.
The best of all the schools I went to. In fact, I'd go so far as to say this is one of the best schools in the world. Waterford is one of ten United World Colleges worldwide. The school served as a refuge from South Africa's apartheid regime. Many of South Africa's current political elite were educated at Waterford - indeed I was at school with many a Mandela, Tambo and Tutu. I have many, many happy memories of the place. There was a wonderfully relaxed atmosphere, and a rigorous academic standard. I completed my O' Levels there and considered staying for my A' Levels, but my dad decided to move to Cape Town.

11. Settlers High School, Bellville, Cape Town, South Africa, age 17 to 18.
Unfortunately, I have few happy memories of this place. Returning to PW Botha's South Africa after five years in Swaziland was a huge culture shock. This was a huge, strict, whites-only, fear-of-God, fear-of-democracy kind of place. Tuesday mornings were cadet practice, where we wore Army uniform and learned how to fire rifles, practising for the inevitable onslaught. I hated it. I hated being there, I hated the teachers, I hated my fellow pupils, I hated the curriculum. Most of all, I resented having to go to yet another school - I had gone to my first school at the age of three. Thanks to bureaucracy, I had spent fifteen years at school. I had had enough. I rebelled against the place, refusing to learn anything. I deliberately failed maths and science, and therefore couldn't go to university, which was fine by me, as yet another place of learning was the last thing I needed.

Somewhere along the line, I have forgotten several schools. I believe I went to fourteen, but can remember only eleven. All this moving around meant I found it difficult to make, and keep, friends. No sooner had I become friendly with someone than I was whisked off elsewhere. Without being too dramatic, I think this scarred me for much of my life. Only now am I finally more trusting, more open to new friendships.

On the plus side, however, my exposure to so many different education systems has given me a broad knowledge base, and an ability to pick things up very quickly. I have always envied those kids who went to just one primary school and one high school, and had the same friends all their lives, but I should think many of them would probably envy my more exciting, more varied upbringing. Wanna swap?