It was around 1973. I think I was in fifth year at school. I read about a protest against Portuguese colonialism outside the Portuguese Embassy (in Ailesbury Road in those days) organised by the Anti-Apartheid Movement. I went along, parked my bike and joined in. I didn’t have a banner and I don’t think I spoke to anyone. Next day at school one of the priests aimed a lecture about the dangers of “associating with Communists” at me. By a bizarre coincidence he must have driven by while the protest was taking place. By the time I got to Belfield, I was ready for left-wing politics. In fact, there was some sort of boycott or protest on the week before the term began.