Lady Lumley's School Sixth Form Year Book - 10 June 2005
Apologies go out to anyone who thought that this piece was going to be anything other than mediocre. When I write on cue, what you tend to get with me is a rather odd train of thought, but I was never going to abstain from this opportunity.
When I walked into this school in September 1998, I had absolutely no idea what an (clich̩ coming) emotional rollercoaster life here would be Рa patchwork of side-splitting laughter, blinding hatred, physical agony, mild depression, sheer delight and occasionally, tears.
Whether it’s hairstyles in Year 7, general mischief in Year 8, plays and toilet breaks in Year 9, amnesia for Year 10, singing in Year 11 or not, I don’t think anyone can look back on their schooldays and say they were altogether unhappy.
I seem to remember the mixture of glee and melancholy on the last day of Year 11; it was melancholy for me, not least because I was leaving behind five of the best years of my life and heading into the place that dreams are made of (the common room), but I was also saying goodbye to some of my oldest friends.
Sixth form brought some new joys: new people, music, more parties – but I quickly found that its perks always failed to save it from mediocrity.
They say that your whole life flashes before your eyes in the second before you die, so I’m going to presume I’m falling from a cliff, and pretend that my whole life has been lived at school.
Mr Dunn’s lunchtime party, the quiff, ‘come on it’s Christmas!’, the bible plays, reggae song, Billy Stewart, Moulin Rouge, Gildo the singing Dildo, Keith, Heward’s lack of underwear, Outdoor Ed, Daniel Tyler, Hutchy baby, an innocent Saffin, night D’s… WOW that was quite a second! And I’m still alive.
Now I’m in a seven year retrospect, I can even cast my mind back further to a point in Infant school when Martin Myers bit Rob Sherwood in the head, and the itching powder at the bottom of the hill! But that’s quite another story…plus one that not many sixth formers would be familiar with, reducing the scope of interest.
I don’t know how people will remember me. I shall let history judge me. Perhaps I’ll leave a better legacy than Hitler did.
To complete this somewhat limited account of student memory, I shall end on one of my favourite song lyrics. With regard to education…
“All in all you’re just another brick in the Wall.” So I’m going to Uni!
Adieu.
