At 20 I was at the beginning of my final year at Music College in London, living in a shared flat in Ealing with four other students.

In a way, the only things I discovered during my three years was how much more there was to learn about music and how mediocre my own skills were compared to the majority of  other people there.

Let's face it, I could never sing (even if I could squeak in tune), my piano playing was OK provided I had the music in front of me (but memorizing or improvisation eluded me): when it came to written harmony I had to do it 'mathematically' as I could never hear what I wrote and as I'd never been good at 'aural tests' the only way I (and quite a few others) passed the ear training part of the final exam was, frankly, to cheat.

It was a tradition that the students with perfect pitch would write out the five or six chord sequences the examiners used and the rest of us would learn them. Then, all we had to do was recognise which chord sequence we were given. If you couldn't manage that then you didn't deserve to pass anyway!

At the end of the first term I celebrated my 21st birthday and mum wanted me to go home for a 'dinner dance' at the Norwood Rooms in Norwich. After quite a bit of haggling she agreed that my boyfriend and a few other friends from college could come too. They stayed at the pub opposite our shop.

The evening was not hugely successful from my point of view. My relationship with J, the love of my life, was beginning to go sour. Well, in fact, he was starting to get fed up with me but didn't know how to let me down gently. The problem was that he needed space but I wanted to spend every minute at his side. Looking back, I must have been like an eager little puppy who became snappy and jealous if anyone else approached.

We stayed together until the end of the academic year - with  me in the hopes that things would improve while he was just patiently biding his time until we went our separate ways. However, when he asked me to find out the name of a first year student whom he saw on the train to and from Devon, because he fancied her, I had to accept that our relationship was dead.

Mum and my stepdad came to pick me up at the end of term and I bought a small bottle of brandy to drown my sorrows on the way home. But it didn't work.

In those days of teacher shortages it was easy to get a job and at my first interview I was offered a post on the spot at a secondary school for girls in the Fens. One of the senior teachers took me under his wing but things got out of hand when one day he kissed me passionately. I'd regarded him as a father figure not a lover!

The next year I found myself at an Infant school in Norfolk for the next few years.