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School reunions are wierd things.
On Saturday evening I spruced myself up, braced myself and went to mine.
At the risk of giving my age away to the more mathmatically gifted amongst you, this reunion was to celebrate the 30th year of freedom from formal education.
Of course, my last mental picture of my fellow class-mates was as fresh-faced, if slightly spotty, sixteen year olds.
But the room in the local rugby club was full of over-weight, balding, middle-aged guys and middle-aged mums in sensible shoes and cardies.
I didn't go to school with all these old guys surely ???
But on closer inspection you would occasionally catch a glimpse of that sixteen year old kid you remembered.
Memories were shared and good times were relived and recalled with gusto.
It was great to see them all again after so long.
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