It was 40 years ago.

It was 40 years ago.

Some of us have entirely contrasting memories of our school years. Others choose to conveniently forget that very early brush with academia. It is easy to preserve our fondest recollections of our school life because those were the ones that normally gave us the most pleasure. Those were our favourite subjects, our favourite teachers and of course the friends who meant so much to us.

Last week I met up with some of my favourite secondary school friends in the most definitive school re-union. I can't begin to tell you how good it was to see the guys I hadn't seen for exactly 40 years. There was the most emotional lump in my throat as the people I'd once known as teenagers were now married with children and one or two who although single, were still greeted with the broadest of smiles. I was just thrilled and delighted to see most of my old class mates, content in the knowledge that we still had so much to talk about, sharing all those lovely old reminiscences all over again. It was a privilege to see you all again.

There was Barry, Ajit, Simon, Gerald, Ricky, Rajesh, Rob, Keith, Perry, Garry, Atul, Greg, Andy and a whole host of the great and good. For one afternoon we rekindled those unique bonds of friendship that I thought had been lost in the mists of time. We drank jubilantly, ate our lunches with enthusiastic relish and couldn't believe that after a huge chasm of time we could still laugh, joke, smile and shake hands amicably before wandering joyfully down that nostalgic memory lane where only the good times rolled. And all of us must have worn those 1970s flared trousers and platform shoes.

I first met my good friend Barry in the place where my formative childhood years were planted. All of my wonderful friends went to a secondary school in Ilford, Essex which no longer exists and sadly closed down in my last year at school. But then we were all transferred to another school and personally the move represented much more than a traumatic upheaval. I'd always hated change but I can only tell you that I always felt as though I'd been deprived of a decent education so by the time I left the school gates at Chadwell Heath High, I felt nothing but a horrible sense of emptiness, inadequacy and utter failure, total desolation.

So let's turn the clock back to 1979, the year I beat a hasty retreat from Chadwell Heath High after a lengthy sentence and confinement at nearby Gearies secondary school. Many of us gathered at the Eagle pub in Snaresbrook, Essex came fully equipped with their very personal memories and experiences. All had wondrous stories to tell, vastly different lifestyles to relate and the kind of humour that can only be summoned when good friends get together to find common ground once again.

Frustratingly, there didn't seem to be enough hours of the day in which to find out much more about us. I apologise to any of my school friends for failing to remember exactly what they were doing now. I do know that my friend Keith, a very sprightly athlete, still looked athletic and spoke with the most delightful American accent, a New Jersey accent to be precise. Keith announced his engagement which only added to the day's theme of rejoicing and celebration.

Ajit  was just a bundle of fun, full of lively banter, incessant belly laughter and full of the joys of summer. Ajit seemed to have the kind of passionate love of life that we should all have even when things look dreadfully bleak and hopeless. Simon and Gerald, in my eyes, were instantly recognisable and 40 years later, looked much the same. Perry, now a successful businessman, looked very streetwise, savvy and very easy going. Rob used to be tall and commanding policeman but was now happily retired. Greg you'll have to forgive me, although we were engaged in animated conversation, I didn't quite catch what you did for a living. I can only apologise once again to Andy but although we were sitting on the same table as each other I didn't find out what you were doing now. Sorry gentlemen.

But above all what I will always cherish was the goodwill, the genuine camaraderie, the amiable eloquence of the whole day. I have to admit here and now that I'd almost given up on getting back together with my old secondary school friends. There was a sense that I'd been trying too hard to re-discover old school mates who had so obviously moved on in their lives. But now we were all back together for one jolly good laugh, one more chance to share our feelings, our hopes and dreams for the future, the simple joy of back slapping congratulation.

As we all went our separate ways, albeit temporarily, the thought occurred to me that 40 years ago Britain was heralding the arrival of the first female Prime Minister - one Margaret Thatcher. Mrs. Thatcher would take us on a long and meandering journey along the path of initial triumphalism before veering off to chronic unemployment where the number out of work reached a staggeringly disturbing three million. Then Mrs Thatcher had the most enormous row with the trade union movement, sharply divided the whole country, quarrelled endlessly with the miners and then reluctantly left 10 Downing Street, tears furiously running down her face.

We may think of Mrs Thatcher as the only Prime Minister who brought festering discord and dissent although she may have promised nothing but full time economic prosperity. But on reflection it does seem an irony that although we either loved or loathed dear Margaret she was undoubtedly statesmanlike and I feel sure that my school friends would endorse such sentiments. They may chuckle very quietly at the possible coronation of another Tory politician with designs on greatness and immortality. For Margaret Thatcher read Boris Johnson. You really couldn't make it up.