I went to several schools in my 5 year period of secondary education. No, my father wasn't in the army, or a gypsy, but that's probably enough on that subject. Old School Reunions are not something I would generally bother with.One I went to offers Afternoon Tea, a tour of the school and a chapel service regularly. Frankly I'd go a long way not to have to put up with that sort of treatment, and sadly, that dry and dusty all girls school was the one where I spent the longest time.
The one I managed to stay at for three and a half terms was rather different. Mixed, anarchic, creative and stuffed to the gunwales with, what were then, just kids. Having made friends with many OB's (can we leave it at that?) over the years and months on Facebook, I had a mad moment last autumn and called an AGM. Brick Lane for a curry was decided, and at one point 30 people were lined up and called to arms. Remember here that I didn't KNOW these people at school. They were all three years above me... so how did that happen?
It was a heartwarming event, which may or may not have been improved by the gift of a two litre vodka box with one of those intriguing taps that looks like a pigs head and makes you keep wanting to press it. And then the curry itself. And lots more beer. And Moriaty, who cried everytime I held him. But he is only 6 months old. And Tim, I am so sorry that you landed up coughing up for the £100 unpaid balance on the bill. We'll have a whip round at the next one and see you right. Obviously Maths wasn't taught very well at that place.
After the curry we wisely went to the pub around the corner where we met the barking mad woman called Liz who had just come back from somewhere in South America but either she didn't seem sure, or I wasn't listening. Actually I wasn't feigning indifference by that stage. The lock-in only made it worse. I have no idea what time it finished.
So, 17 years of laundry logs and lunch followed by a weekend of utter madness. I was glad to find that she is still there, the girl I miss. In fact, that was almost as good as my brother's wedding which was also a vodka frenzy, so perhaps vodka IS the answer. As far as I can see from sifting through the wreckage of posts, the only two real casualties were my chickens which got eaten by the fox while I was away, and Louis's tripod which I left somewhere...So, now what? Pull on the boots, paint on the face, pick up girl 12 from school put the ironing away and serve the red meat stew. And I'm sorry it took me so long to blog. I couldn't have done it over the weekend. I'd have trashed the netbook.
And if anyone is concerned that this may influence my children badly, I know that Girl 13 has had her laptop and mobile confiscated as the result of the previous weekend in the London when her crazy gang over did it, and none of them care less anyway.