I had never been unhappy at Eton; though the winter cold remained intense and the plumbing still left much to be desired.

From Trying to Please by John Julius Norwich.  Page 109.  

“Meanwhile my Eton life was approaching its end. Being quite good at exams I had mildly distinguished myself academically, but as a sportsman was generally known to be hopeless. I could have stayed on another year and become a member of Sixth Form, but there seemed little point: although the war was over, young men were still obliged to do compulsory National Service, and I knew that at any time after my eighteenth birthday in September 1947, I could expect to be called up. My father was a great believer in what is nowadays called a gap year—though the term was then unknown—and at Christmas 1946 I left.

I had never been unhappy at Eton; though the winter cold remained intense and the plumbing still left much to be desired, as we moved gradually up the school we were allotted larger and more comfortable rooms. Also, as far as we were concerned, having to fag was a thing of the past; we were fagmasters now, with fags of our own. Besides, I had many friends, both inside my house and in the rest of the school—although I see only two or three of them nowadays. Another advantage was that after taking School Certificate—the forerunner of GCE—we were allowed to specialize: I dropped the hated Latin and the mildly enjoyable Greek (both of which I now desperately regret) and mathematics and science (which I don’t), and concentrated on modern languages: French and German principally, with Russian as an “extra study.” A short essay in each language had to be delivered once a week, the German one in the old German handwriting which even then was rapidly growing obsolete. I find, rather to my surprise, that unlike most Germans I can still write it today.