The Headmaster showed me way to live, I showed him way to die
Last week, I went to see the headmaster of the school that I went as kid in late 70s. He’s pushing 90 now. This short and swift man in a shape hiding age, smartly dressed as a matter of routine, was terror of a man in those days. A glimpse of him on the school premises would chill the bone of even the cockiest and cheekiest, forget about the herd of lamb and sheep shaking in their boots and…