Old boys' networks aren't just for men - I'm proof of the power of the elite girls' school
Most people have a teacher who changed their lives — mine was Heather Brigstocke.
Mrs Brigstocke was not called the Head of my school St Paul's, but the High Mistress. (She was well-named: I later found out she got high on vintage champagne.)
Female intellectuals don't always possess physical distinction, but she was a swan; the peer of Lauren Bacall or Zelda Fitzgerald. Her blonde hair formed an airy cap around a face that seemed saturated by dew. Her eyes were the colour of Anatolian waters and her figure was often encased in leather.
