Friends, reunited

24 May

I haven’t blogged for a while because the amount of catarrh I am currently undergoing is drowning my usual levels of simmering anger and injustice, so nothing going on in the news has driven me to put keyboard to screen.

However, last Saturday was my ** year since leaving school reunion (it’s so long ago that I left, I’m unable actually to write it – suffice to say I have lived more years again than I had lived by the time I left school, if that’s followable – my cold isn’t helping).

I was a very strange mixture of fiendishly curious and gut-wrenchingly terrified as I waited on the station for the train. I can’t say it felt like groundhog day – because the last time I did that journey for that reason was ** years ago – but it did have an unnervingly familiar taste to it emotionally.

Like maybe every teenage girl at one stage or another, I felt like a spare part at school. There was a social jigsaw that everyone else seemed to be able to put together, but into which my piece didn’t ever feel a fit. There were kind people, fun people, incredibly clever people, awkward people, at my school, like at every school, but they all seemed to have it more sussed than me. I was nervous that even though the years have changed everything for me and now I’m comfortable that it’s okay not to be always comfortable, and not ‘get it’ sometimes; that being back there would unlearn all that, even if only for one night.

I should have had that vodka and diet Coke on the train.

Although perhaps it was just as well that I didn’t, since I managed to squeeze in enough of them throughout the rest of the night.

I’m not going to go into detail, there’s too much of it. But what won’t leave my head is what it actually means to re-meet people ** years on (I’m really not going to say it, really really not). Last Saturday showed – or seemed to show, I’m not going to push my impression on others, suffice to say this is my opinion, my view – we’d all become comfortable in our personalities, and whatever they were, they seemed to fit very well. People being themselves; however closely related or otherwise to how they were all those years ago.

It was surprising, refreshing, dementedly entertaining, and ultimately led to me returning home exhilarated at 2.30am in the morning (I wasn’t exhilarated when I woke up, it has to be said). I always swore blind that nodding to the past could only lead to the past reciprocating by head-butting you in the face, breaking nose and probably cheekbone too; but maybe I was a little bit too judgmental on that one.

Good to see you, class of ’93, really really good. Ooops, there, that date, I said it.

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2 Responses to “Friends, reunited”

  1. Lindsey Allum June 4, 2013 at 10:53 am #

    I loved reading this blog. I was pointed in its direction by my daughter who also attended, having missed the ten-year reunion as she was living in New Zealand (yes, she did sit on the same table as you and her name does begin with an F). She too was very nervous about the whole thing but found it to be a wonderful evening.
    It seems to me that those sixth-form years, whilst sometimes uncomfortable and fraught with anxiety and wanting-to-be-part-of-it-but-not-really-knowing-how, are a time when we forge bonds with those around us without necessarily being aware of it. Then twenty years later, hey presto you find yourself back amongst familiar (mostly) faces, everything in your life is different and at the same time everything is familiar. Plus ça change …

    • lizrossmartyn June 4, 2013 at 7:44 pm #

      Thank you for your comment – what a lovely comment. It was wonderful to see your daughter again – one of the people I’m delighted to have been put back in touch with again via Facebook.

      You’re right, in the end, turns out everyone I spoke to felt the same. I’ve come away so pleased I went!

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