Prep School. Nine years of preparation. For what? The Common Entrance. Entrance it may be, but trust me, there’s nothing common about it.

From the age of four, in shorts, cap and too-big blazer, until the age of thirteen, by now with greasy hair and the hint of moustache, boys – and a very few girls – are building up to the day they move on in glory to their Senior School, hopefully one of the most illustrious in the country, equipped with an old-fashioned (and by that I mean good) education and the ability to wield a cricket bat and a hockey stick.

Should be easy, right?

Actually, wrong.

Stick around, I’ll tell you all about it. But shhhh, remember?

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