Scribbles, jots and musings: ...happily ever after....

Once upon a time, a long time ago we were directed into orderly rows on the steps of the Crombie building. A gentleman with film in his camera, and a wide angle lens give careful direction and the result was...this....mounted on cardboard and sold to every fresh faced model to be treasured and often looked up in the following twenty years.

Perhaps we did not treasure it as we ought. I confess that I did not, consequently in recent months I have unearthed it from the attic, and with dramatic movements swept away at least fifteen years of dust from familiar faces. I have then squinted over other faces with a furrowed visage of "who on earth?!"

(at this point I shall take a moment to respectfully remember the two little birds who tragically lost their lives in our loft. Their parents foolishly built a nest in our eves and the little ones managed to escape into the attic. We were unaware of this until, possibly months later we discovered the two little bodies by the window and scenes from the last battle on my blazer....fear not though, a yard brush and two goes in the washing machine managed to remove their legacy and render my blazer scruffy, but wearable)

But why, you might ask, should I bother to unearth twenty year old photographs and redundant items of clothing? One word:

reunion (riːˈjuːnjən)

— n
1.	the act or process of coming together again
2.	the state or condition of having been brought together again
3.	a gathering of relatives, friends, or former associates

A little gem from our party bags
(Yes we were given party bags as this was a shindig to be long remembered)

Our act of coming together began, where it ended, on the steps of the Crombie. (Whose crumbling sandstone requires that the little staircases and Juliet balconies we used to sit on be fenced off) We all pretended that we had aged much better than that beautiful building...and indeed some of us had. There were cries of "You haven't changed a bit!" and whispered asides to those still in our confidence "who is that?" Then with horror and delight we browsed the banners of photos enjoying our questionable hairstyles and rejoicing in the creation of straighteners.

Resuming her guise of head girl (so good at it, I suspect she was born for this role) Heather ushered us into position. Wearing a raggle taggle collection of shabby chic we again huddled on the steps of the school. With advancing technology and equal opportunities a lovely lady, with what appeared to be an i pad on a stick recreated our past. Flanked by some of our teachers we stood still, as though time had stood still. This was the result.

Obviously time has not stood still.

Generously, the Headmaster then welcomed us into the school. Walking up the stairs and into the library I was struck with the sensation that yes, I have actually studied at Hogwarts. ( I jest not, we had four houses and I was in Griffindor*)

* All right, I lie. I was actually in Hufflepuff.

** Oops, still lying. I was in Shaw which is essentially the same as Griffindor.

With a stroke of marketing genius, the Headmaster showed us a dvd of the school and spoke in such sentimental terms that all of us, even those with no children, resolved that, despite living in Asia, England or Germany, we would be sending our children back to "The Academy" Then we wandered around the school to see how it had changed, feeling slightly unnerved by the Bill Sill Wing, hearing the voices of assemblies past singing "Immortal Invisible" in the Assembly hall and as ever, the toilets in the Jackson quickly filled and slowly emptied.

In many ways, the school has changed dramatically. Huge improvements. All change however is not good. New technology means no hymn book.

I'll let that bombshell settle.

Then it was off on the bus to Minnowburn.

I LOVE the details in a party. Here they were myriad.

I cannot recreate the warmth, humour and sentimental remembering of the evening. So I will summarise in picture.