It was December 1984 and my career as a student at John Leggott College, a sixth-form college in Scunthorpe, had not started well, writes Rachel de Souza. Most of my friends had gone straight to work after taking O levels and I was enjoying myself rather than attending college, which seemed large and soulless after the camaraderie, mission and heart of my Catholic school, St Bede’s, then a comprehensive. I was now on my last chance: I had to catch up on all my missed essays and attend every day, on time, or I would no longer be welcome there. My father was furious and I was grounded. On Monday morning I walked the three miles to college wondering if I could stretch my £10 a day earnings from my Saturday job at Scunthorpe market to afford a holiday with my friends.I was studyin