Reunion

Every year at the end of January there is a coffee morning for the former pupils of my alma mater in the Merchant’s Hall in Hanover Street, and most years there is no one apart from me who attends from my class.

It can be embarrassing to sit at a table by myself, so I’ve taken to sitting at the table of the year above me who are very well represented. I’ve never discovered what it is about my year that has fostered such an indifference to reunions, although I realise that many people would rather leave their schooldays well behind and forget about them.

I liked school and remember my fellow class mates with a certain fondness even though I have seen so little of them over the intervening years.
I remember a time when It was not cool to attend this winter coffee morning because there seemed to be too many old FPS gathered together, but now I am one of the old guard myself and it’s not so terrible as we revert to being the pupils we were -the quiet ones, the talkative ones, the ones with a mischievous twinkle in their eye and the organising ones. Nobody has changed that much.