We all say it, how can seven years out of our lives mean so much to us? Paul always used to quote St Ignatius, give me the child until seven and I'll give you the man. That's what he really felt about Clapham. It was only after getting to our desks and sitting down on that first day that I first met and spoke with Paul and I remember being amazed that he was just like me. We were pretty similar in outlook, both fond of sports, and both serious enough to stay out of trouble, and we both wanted to help the school.

The first playtime we spoke a bit more and spoke to others but our friendship was already starting up, and in a few days we found ourselves in a gang of five, all destined to leave earlier than us, John Freddi going off to University before we even sat our exams, Terry Nolan had left in the 5th Form and Phil Petrides just never came back for our second year. None of us ever found out why not, and none of us wanted to push the point.

Within the first week or two I was involved in a couple of fights, thankfully I came out on top, and I noticed Paul was much better at keeping out of physical trouble than me. It certainly helped me in my bid to stop fighting, I didn't really want it in my life any more. That was emphasised the following year when, in the playground I punched Paul playfully on the arm, or so I thought. He came back with a far stronger punch to my arm and explained that his dad told him to hit back if anyone hit him and he was clearly emotional. Not only did it warn me off but it made me appreciate I was on the threshold of becoming a bit of a bully myself without understanding why, and I quickly stopped.

The big freeze of '63 was a strange affair. I remember we had made a sliding area a little longer than normal but with the temperatures remaining below zero the slide increase three or fourfold and soon was the centre of attraction in a freezing playground. More and more Paul talked about the evils of the playground, the Poling that was carried out by the 5th Formers, serious bullying and intimidation from a few years ahead of us, the slide, and more and more he wanted to stand next to the walls of the building, just wishing the time would pass and we could go back into the classroom.

It soon became apparent that we were both Chelsea supporters, I lived very close to the Chelsea ground, Paul was in Islington, but he came over and we went to enjoy the matches, at least as best we could, in the early 60s the team wasn't particularly exciting, but Tommy Docherty changed that with his young diamonds and the emerging Peter Osgood. How he kept making the journey I'll never know. We also chose the same subjects at school and settled on the Arts and Languages. We were doing well and staying out of trouble, neither of us was high profile, but I realised Paul was someone pretty special, worth being a mate of, worth being in the reflection of his halo.

I remember once, in the fourth form, Cecil Pocock had said the three of us should meet up for a beer after school. So Paul came back to my house and we went off to Chiswick from there. We were both totally inebriated and I don't know how Paul made it home, late at night, drunk probably for the first time, it was bad enough facing my parents, so I don't know how he managed it, and still got to school on time the next morning. We both blamed Cecil! We both learnt then that it's best to blame someone who isn't there. I remember Cecil's last words to me that evening, 'Sam, take care of Paul, I think he's had too much'. Not the best thing to say to a lad who's also had too much beer and had little sense of responsibility.

Life was becoming much more sociable as well, we had arranged that we would meet these two nice girls at a place we were due to play football on a Sunday morning. It would have been good but I took a hit on the chin from a wayward boot, Paul apparently said I played a blinder after that. Of course he realised afterwards I was concussed and I ended up going to hospital, it was the only time I ever came off worse in a legs first tackle against a forward. In another match at Wandsworth the centre forward for St John's was running at me with the ball. I did my usual tackle, feet first and somehow rearranged his testicles around my boot. I also saved the shot and stopped the goal. Another close call I remember was Paul, as centre half, chasing back with their centre forward and he shouted my name, got a chance to pass back to me but it came at me like a rocket.

I managed to save it and pushed it over the bar. Several people watching said to me 'Good save keeper' and I answered that it was a pass back not a shot, I should have held it. Whenever I was involved in a close contact with a forward Paul was always there, always checking I was okay, always ready to protect me.

Around that time we were also invited to join in a five-a-side tournament one summer term, a Thursday evening and we did very well, made the final I think, if we didn't then I'm suffering from beneficial memory, but I know we didn't win. We were also playing every Sunday morning for a team called, F.O.S. It stood for Friends of Sport. One morning after a close 17 - 0 loss one of their guys came over and said 'I don't know about Friends of Sport but you're friends of ours'. But we had a good way of losing, we were best in defeat, and Paul always said we'd learn more that way, we learnt so much. In the 5th Form we were talking about the school team and he enthused he felt he could change us to a much better team. I was always impressed with his football knowledge and belief in tactics, and it resulted in a different approach to our team, a different way of selecting people, and a different way of working with each other. Of course he had several meetings with our gym master, Mr Tope, but he got his way.

I remember him coming into school one day looking quite jaundiced, but he kept his head low. he sat in front of me and I asked him what had happened. He looked cross. His sister Gilda had bought some Quick Tan lotion and wanted to trial it, so waited for Paul to go to sleep and rubbed it into his face, he obviously woke up and rushed to wash it off, but the next morning he realised he'd failed. On another occasion he came into class and I'd rigged it so his desktop would fly up and then down, using a ruler and a piece of string. We'd spent a couple of weeks talking about poltergeists and his face was one of absolute shock and horror. He asked me I'd seen it but I said no, which would have been okay if I hadn't been crying with laughter at the time. He'd never forgotten it, often talked about it and he probably came to realise where I stood on poltergeists.

I recall a detention in 3alpha when a young teacher was holding us behind but getting a very bad reaction from lots of people. At one point, and it started out on the other side of the room, a call for 'lights' started. We all knew this would end with the lights going out and everyone rushing out. I very quickly determined that I would stay, and as the lights were switched off the rush began, you could hear the pushing and shoving on the stairs, the laughing, the swearing. I sat through it and wondered if I were the only one left, but was pleased to see when the lights were turned back on that about ten had remained. Paul was there thankfully, as were quite a few others, mostly from our side. Paul said he hadn't gone because he thought the teacher, a young man trying his hardest, was doing the right thing. A few minutes later he told us all to go home, that none of us were there because we deserved to be. The worry about running out in the dark from the far side was that it would be easier to get caught when the lights went back on. I think Paul was already trying to learn to be a teacher even then.

The Sixth Form brought its own special privileges back then, and I can remember being asked to run the Tuck Shop. Paul was a great help as was Wilson Bowers, who seemed equally keen to visit other schools, notably girls schools rather than Betting Shops, I was with him on that, and work alongside them in various charities. In the Upper Sixth Paul had become Glastonbury House Captain and was extremely keen to win the Building Fund Trophy. Youngsters were being turned upside down by Paul to extricate their money for the Building Fund. Glastonbury did indeed win the Trophy that year, thank you all those younger members of school who gave so freely. In the Sixth Form he had morphed into a young gambler and a budding tipster, kept a long coat at College specifically for visiting the local betting shop. The boys, all supposedly responsible prefects by the way, sat at the window and would bet on which vehicle would drive past the school. One day there was uproar when someone won big with a bet on a horse and cart! It was Youngs delivering beer to a local pub. Sometimes I felt like renaming the Prefect's Room The House of The Rising Sun.

We got through the Sixth Form and Paul went off to become a teacher, while I had joined an airline for a summer job, expecting to go to University in the September. Paul clearly enjoyed his time and enjoyed teaching, which I think was totally done in Australia, apart from a very short introduction in Africa. Paul was thought highly of, and really enjoyed getting his teeth into the education of young Australians. I looked at a facebook site and found many sad comments about them losing their best and favourite teacher, and how much they praised him for his thoughtful, diligent work. I shared their views.

There was a hiatus of about fifteen years whilst I worked and brought up a family, although we met once at Wilson's house in Streatham and it was good to see him. We met quite a few times since then and have been in constant touch over the past nine or ten years, writing about three emails a week to each other. Paul was just coming up to be 75 so we knew each other for about sixty of those years. He had a worrying spell some years back with leukemia and I believe was never given a clearance from it but never suffered from it either. I wrote to him about six weeks back and explained I'd had cataracts removed from my right eye and he said yes, he was booked in for that too.

Paul leaves a daughter, Hannah, a granddaughter, a son-in-law and an ex-wife with whom he enjoyed a friendly relationship after their split, his daughter is, I believe, an English teacher in Brisbane, a city I've been to quite often but never to stay. Among the people that knew him best we've concluded he was an excellent student and teacher, lived life on his terms and always looked forward. He was wickedly humorous. Looking at Paul the twelve year old there weren't many differences from then until the day he died, he was very comfortable in his skin, and loved learning from any source possible and was great company. His outlook was always bright and positive. About ten years back we were discussing bullying and I was trying to find one of our old class mates, who'd suffered badly. Paul's view was that it was always destructive, never helpful, and he told me categorically that we should have stopped that bullying when we saw it. He was right, our intervention could have prevented it and made the young lad feel so much better, our shame entirely that we didn't.. . I miss him terribly, especially as we have bought several new young players at Chelsea this month, I'd have listened to his sarcastic comments about non-footballers showing they don't understand football club ownership, and our chances for this summer's World Club Cup. My thoughts go out to his family and all his friends and contacts, but he would have prepared them well, thanks Paul for everything.

Gerry Salmon 1961 - 68