HERE'S a thing – the school I went to had an Art Day and yes, there were prizes – I even won one.

I was 12 years old and in the abstract section of the show, I entered a small marrow, with cocktail-sticked cucumber eyes, an orange peel mouth, sliced aubergine ears, and carrot feet and arms (I even gave it an umbrella – a cocktail umbrella).

The presentation, in front of frankly unimpressed (and embarrassed) parents was made by the deputy head gardener of Plymouth City Council (parks division), and afterwards I had a can of Coca-Cola to celebrate.

My friend, Nigel Castle, fared better (he came first, I was a special commendation). He won the woodworking section, under the watchful eye of the terrifying Mr Edwards (half-man, half-anaconda) with a balsa wood model of a Saturn V rocket.

It was covered in glue, his attempt to paint it having stained it (leaving it looking like a tattooed phallus), and it was stuck by accident to its stand, which meant if you did attempt to lift it up, you lifted the whole collapsible table too.

Our school band played for about half-an-hour, but it was, to even my ears, cringeworthy (the theme from Blue Peter was their signature tune) and visitors had a chance to win a goldfish by attempting to throw a ping-pong ball into a jam jar (it’s actually impossible).

However, there were no speeches, apart from one made by the headmaster, no special guests, apart from the deputy head gardener, and certainly no glossy brochure to advertise and highlight the day’s activities (it was usually one sheet of yellow A5 and its proudest boast was the school canteen’s cream teas).

Imagine them my daily dose of wonder as I approach the Plain in Oxford and pass Magdalen College School.

For there, strung up outside the senior school on a giant tarpaulin are advertisements for the school’s arts festival, which runs all this week until Saturday.

For a start, it boasts a line-up of genuinely impressive celebrities (and let me just repeat that word in case you missed it: c-e-l-e-b-r-i-t-i-e-s.

These include – and I tip my hat to their school secretary or, more likely in MCS’s case, their event organiser – Germaine Greer (who practically invented feminism in the Sixties), Justin Webb (a presenter on BBC Radio 4’s Today programme), author Michael Morpurgo, fashion designer Wayne Hemingway and music producer Mike Hurst (responsible for more than 50 top 40 singles).

Not bad eh? And, for those still unimpressed, there’ll also be top-notch productions of The Wind in The Willows and The Jungle Book, a festival concert at the Sheldonian Theatre and a chamber concert.

Now don’t get me wrong. I think all of the above events are wonderful. Really. I don’t resent them, hell, I salute them and, like they need it, wish the school all the best too.

But I do wonder if they’re not just doing all of this to rub my nose in it – like somehow they know I went to a comprehensive.

Well, maybe I did, but at least among marrow aficionados, I can still hold my head high...