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Just how many times to I have to tell Tom the publisher that the Clavier book is not my story?
He’s a like a dog with a bone on this one, and is terrified that some Eton piano teacher is suddenly going to come out swinging with a libel writ.
All I can do is repeat - over and over again - that although it’s a true story, it never happened to me.
No, it happened to a friend.
That’s not to say that I don’t share quite a few traits with the story’s 17-year-old hero. I was at Eton in 1982; I was pretty useless at playing the piano; and I was quite, quite desperate for a girlfriend.
But still - it was not my story.
Though how I wish it had been. It must be the ultimate fantasy of every horny teenage boy’s across the country: To be take
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