IT was one of those Yorkshire evenings in a beautiful Dales village. The open fire of the local hostelry glowed brightly to take away the chill of the evening. I shared a meal with Mark Stibbe, an old friend and fellow retired priest.
We are the same age and from very different backgrounds. Mark went to Winchester and Cambridge. I went to a secondary modern and got thrown out of sixth form. Yet, we are the best of friends and he is like my long lost brother.
That night, over a drink, Mark shared with me his harrowing story of life at a public school. I don’t need to go into detail here as he wrote about it so movingly in The Yorkshire Post last Saturday. His story is one of beatings and abuse handed out by people we are supposed to trust.