The School Reunion

I had a school reunion last Saturday night.
It’s 20 years since my peers and I started secondary school (we missed the 1999 “10 years since leaving” slot).

You’re probably imagining a school hall decked out with balloons and a big banner heralding “Welcome back Old Tamensians 1982 – 89!” Perhaps a large bowl of punch with plastic cups, and paper plates piled high with sausage rolls and trifle. Perhaps the guy who was the real musician at school – he was always into Prince wasn’t he – made it as a professional in the real world and is on stage with his band, doing his Bill Murray in Groundhog Day bit: Bashing the keys like a maniac Stevie Wonder.

But you’ve watched too many American “High School” movies.

In reality, it was far more “low key”.

The back of the Abingdon Arms Public House, Thame, was the venue. The organisers had decided not to hire a private room, but use the barn to the rear of the pub – a separate function room, but still open to the general public – instead. Despite agreeing this in advance with the pub – and the manager promising extra bar staff to cope with the expected influx of a whole school year of thirtysomethings – it was discovered that the proprietors of the establishment had booked in three budding stand-ups for a “Comedy Night” in said barn.

A crisp ten pound note would earn you the right to watch these “comedians”, but why fork out from your pocket when you know that an evening with your chums – especially your French chums - will undoubtedly be more entertaining and funnier than three grafting students or Scousers.

No doubt we missed the next Jasper Carrot.

So the reunion actually took place at the back of the pub itself. On the journey up, I’d been grumbling that its was going to be rubbish, nobody would turn up, there would only be half a dozen peeps I knew there, what a waste of time, etc, etc…

When we arrived there were half a dozen people there.

By the end of the evening it had grown to a dozen. But a waste of time it was not: I managed to catch up with a couple of guys who I hadn’t seen since leaving school – one of whom was a good mate who joined the army and just dropped off the planet. A “just one drink and then we’ll go” attitude at the start of the evening turned into “let’s have another one and then go for a curry”. And despite the fact that it was a shame more didn’t make the effort to join us, those who turned up seemed to enjoy it.

Perhaps the absentees knew there wasn’t going to be any balloons. Kids love balloons *. Next time you have a reunion, get the balloons in.


* Aunties love willy-shaped balloons that they can use as Ikea Snake-like props in their drunken dancing and intimidation of nephews.