I had studied for eight years at the Centre and the years were hard as I struggled with learning and absorbing the knowledge that was imparted.
I was now 15. It was 1981. It was then that an opportunity to go back to England presented itself.
‘Malini should go to Thomas Delarue’, said Uncle Leslie one day. ‘It is a secondary special school, which the UK Spastics Society runs for bright A-level students, many of whom go on to read for a University degree.’
‘Do you want to go to boarding school?’, mother asked.
For a year, I mulled over it. My impressions of boarding school were formed by what I had read in adaptations of Jane Eyre and Lowood. These books painted a ...