1984 Reunion August 2009

How would everyone look? Middle aged, slightly balding, wrinkles, spreading girths…and would the men have faired better? What type of status vehicles would be lined up in the playground? Who would have the largest number of genetically perfect offspring each one learning to play the harp and mastering quantum physics at the age of three?

Having attended the 15^th year reunion I already had a good idea of how it would be but that still didn't stop me feeling tiny butterflies as I descended the steps to the tented bar in the School Gardens. These little insects of apprehension melted as soon as Ed Simpson flashed his cheesy barman grin at me, With that, plus the reinforcement of Rick Omerod's "hello mate, what would you like to drink?" I was soon back into 1984 mode, it's a shame my aching back can't do the same.

My comfort zone was soon challenged by the sticking of an identity badge into my shirt, how dare they! (something to do with my non-conformist rebellious streak) It didn't help that the photograph was taken during my arrogant porcupine period. Vanity soon lost to practicality as I desperately tried to recognise people some of whom I had not seen for the full 25 years. Some were easy to remember, some weren't. Was this a correlation between my middle aged memory and the time factor? I didn't have time to worry about that, I was busy casting furtive glances at I.D. badges. I began to feel somewhat envious of chameleons, able to move their eyes independently. This would mean I could keep eye (singular) contact and get the name correct. In hindsight, a boss eyed, grinning ex pupil thrusting a handshake at you is not the most reassuring image. I need not have worried, we were all doing it and once you realise nobody is offended, it becomes the norm.

It was fascinating to see how we had all changed and yet within seconds of speaking to each other it was obvious that our personalities hadn't. This was the case for everyone I spoke to as the day progressed. As we went on our tour of the school, visited each transformed space, talked of our work, children, homes, I began to feel reassured by this fact. Lets face it, 25 years is a huge chunk of our lives and that alone could be quite scary, so sharing it with others is somehow comforting. Call me depressive, but I am quite glad we all look older. Ok, some of us now have shares in Grecian 2000 and Clyde Wallbanks' shorts were definitely something a 12 year old would wear, ( revenge for the shiny trousers comment, Clyde….x ) but no amount of trying can hide all those years. I was quite relieved that nobody had felt the urge to try.

As with all these gatherings the time went far too quickly and before I knew it we were regrouping for the evening meet at the Old Rectifying House. If the day went fast, then as the beer and conversation flowed the night went into warp drive. I found the company most enjoyable, so much so that I even forgot to refuel my aching body at the buffet !

Oh well, more liquid calories I suppose. I had conversations with old friends I still see and even with people I hardly knew at school. Does anyone else still have the compulsion to call Paul Thompson 'Sir'? Who has the shiniest head ? Who had the biggest crush on whoever ? And many more deeply philosophical questions were answered as the night drew in. Eventually a few of us ended up in some subterranean seedy bar, grasping at the last hour of companionship before even that closed and we were thrust onto the streets of Worcester. By that stage we had all agreed that Kings had been and still was a good school and that we had been the cleverest, funniest and most handsome year to pass through it ( that also counts for retakes ). In truth, it has to be said that in no other reunion have so many have owed so much to so few……………………………until next time.

Paul Bradburn (W 77-84)

Is it any good for you?

The names of characters in this account have not been altered. The guilty are not protected.

She was beautifully manicured and elegantly dressed as she stood outside School House toilet door. What used to be a heavy brute of a thing with huge iron hinges secured by massive coach bolts had transformed itself into a chic high security combination keypad and opened up to a unisex toilet straight out of Spooks.

Anticipation was everything as I glanced at her name tag. Could this woman really be the beguiling wife/ girlfriend (probably partner judging by the confident way she wore her figure hugging, but not too tight, black dress) of the adolescent delinquent I knew years ago. Was it the animal in him which she found so attractive? The animal who would bite the wing mirrors of cars and stir up enough dust from hand brake turns in "borrowed" transit vans on Pitchcroft to warrant elderly residents telephoning the fire brigade. Or perhaps the passion of the hunter gatherer? The shelter builder who could chop down trees and build dens in School House basement. Enough combustible material in fact to make Guy Fawkes' eyes water. The alchemist whose industrial strength home brew unblocked drains and caused them to smoke. The valiant protector narrowly escaping the jaws of Plod for sword fighting... with a sword stick! The Machiavellian who by a single incredulous look and a nod in the direction of some unwitting fall guy could extricate himself from suspicion of guilt.

Maybe she knew. Maybe she didn't. Would she believe him if he told her? Would she believe me, a complete and anonymous as yet untagged stranger outside a communal toilet? To hell with it: Who needs the protocol of polite introduction and small talk when there's clearly mischief to be made?

She glanced at me as a stupid Cheshire grin was growing on my face. She looked away and then back again. This time a different expression. Was she going to say something polite? No she just looked at me as though I was some sort of weirdo.

Suddenly a child leapt through the door. A pretty and well spoken girl with an outstretched hand looking for the security of her mother's. They smiled and both walked off towards the summer house.

I tried the combination written in BIG letters next to the futuristic combination lock. If the front door was locked you used to have to climb up the fire escape and in through that tiny window next to upper remove study. If this works getting past Matron and Shagger Stevens could have been so much easier! The bog door opened and I entered. This is where my next door study mate used to sleep all night under a running shower, just incase he felt ill and needed a sip of water you understand.

Blimey, is the whole day going to be like this?

Well sort of yes actually. My memories of school 25 years ago are in many ways still incredibly strong. Maybe we just had a special year. A year group which gelled and understood each other in a way that was relatively unconditional. Most people I talk to about reunions, and school reunions in particular, dread the thought of meeting peers from their teens. Even some of my close friends would rather have their arms chopped off than be asked to touch a reunion with a barge pole. But it's cathartic. There's so much to learn and understand and explore.

Reconciling the person you're greeting for the first time in a quarter of a century with their privileged school character is like opening a birthday present which has been carefully chosen for you. It's personal and it has the power to wow and enthrall both the giver and receiver. There is very little scope nowadays for maintaining a meaningful relationship with your forgotten past - that is the past you've not bothered to keep up with.

The friends I was close to all those years ago seemed in many ways just as close now.

We could talk openly about career success and failure. Financial success and failure. Misjudged moments, loves and life's regrets. You don't have to agree, you don't even need a common topic within the last quarter of a century - most social event encounters need at least that. If you launch straight into politics or religion, the sound board is deeply rooted in those deep and meaningful debates and heart to hearts of who you thought you might be. Night after long night of character bashing from your formative years. By talking to that living past somehow it seems to ground you in who and where you are now. Right or perhaps wrong....

Admittedly there were a few fat, grey and bald surprises, but scratch the surface and the smell is still the same.

Whatever it meant to us it was indeed a day of heady cocktails. Of brain food and booze and excellent grub. A set tended by the Kings' school gardener and provided by long dead Dean and Chapter of Worcester Cathedral.

Dressed for the day by Liz, Ed, Nick Rick and Ali.

So Marta. What do you reckon? Was it simply a rite of passage for a testosterone fuelled Marcus? Or was it irresponsible and down right criminal? Do we really put childish things behind us as we get older? And what candle does it help us hold to our own families and the society we are part of? Mind you, he probably wasn't the only bad boy of Kings at the time, perhaps not even the worst and I suspect not the last.

We will probably need reading glasses and readily available toilet facilities for the one in 2023 – just a suggestion!

Clyde Wallbanks (S 82-84)

The Kings School, Worcester was founded by Henry VIII in 1511. Some 498 years later an email popped into my in box from a consortium formed by 5 former pupils of what was to become known as "the class of '84" We've got a great idea it said, lets have a 25 year reunion. This no doubt put the fear of God into a gaggle of 43 year old men and women who last saw each other 25 years ago.

Deciding there was safety in numbers I arranged with a fellow Old Vigornian stay overnight and travel up to Worcester together on the big day. We awoke to a beautiful summers morning, Nerves soon however took hold. I had to deal with the usual questions – 'does my bum look big in this?' ( it did by the way ) 'what do you think of my outfit?' ( you looked ridiculous ) and 'can I get away with this bag?' (no).

Nursing hangovers and, having lied , Jon Anders and I set off for the drive to Worcester.

The organisers, or the Reunion 5, as they had become known, had helpfully sent through a list of attendees and the journey was spent in fits of laughter as we reminisced and remembered old friends, old foes and teachers

We arrived at the Diglis Hotel and checked into our "suites" Minutes later we were strolling through the school grounds. As we headed for the school gardens the we were both silenced as we were confronted with buildings and views from 25 years ago. It seemed like yesterday and the memories came flooding back. Whilst I was left with the feeling of immense pride to have attended a school with such history and surroundings, it was perhaps tinged with a hint of regret that I did not fully appreciate at the time the privilege that accompanies being a pupil at The King's School.

Having overcome the nostalgia it was on to more the serious matter of seeing how we had all survived the last 25 years.

The Reunion 5 had done us all proud. Except of course with requirement to wear a name badge with a photograph taken in 1984! The day was joyfully spent meeting old friends, teachers and drinking and eating. We were joined by Tim Hickson, Ollie ( aka Mr Thompson ), Mike Bentley, Gonk ( aka Mr Anderton)

and Spike ( aka I can't remember, he was always Spike to me. Was it Mr Knight? ). My old house master, Bob Allum and his delightful wife Sarah too joined us. It was a strange moment when there was a gathering about who had the nerve to call Mr Anderton by the only name he was ever known as at school! The school gardens ( where so much happened ) was the perfect venue and the afternoon soon came to an end.

So onwards to the Farriers Arms – Fat John was no longer the landlord but the place was still the same. I was able to order some refreshments without fear of being asked my age or of a 'knocker' throwing me out ( although Mike Morgan still thought he was head boy!)

A buffet supper had been arranged in a nearby pub. More OV's from the Class of '84 were able to join us. There were some remarkable moments – James Giscombe looking younger now than then and Jon Ballard wearing a 'man bag' until the bitter end stand out.

The evening went far too quickly and the hard core made it to a local night club and then back to the Diglis for a nightcap ( like we needed it ).

The whole day ( and night ) was truly fabulous. Meeting so many old friends reminded me of my time spent as a boarder at The King's School. The day reminded me firmly of the education I received. The raconteuring with the teaching staff confirmed that the ethos of the school remains now what it then was. It is a school of which I am immensely proud. It is an honour to be entitled to call oneself an Old Vigornian.

There is a danger we forget our personal history, our past. Life moves at a remarkable pace when you approach and enter your 40's. There are different priorities, different agendas and the time available to indulge in a weekend of nostalgia may seem to be a luxury. I say firmly it is not. On many different levels it it of significant and substantial benefit. For myself, I enjoyed myself beyond all expectations and reminded me of my past, my history and my old friends.

I commend what was achieved by hard working co-leavers from the class of '84. Dare I suggest that every year of Old Vigornians ought to have its own Reunion 5?

Dominic Bell (Ca 77-84)

King's School Reunion 2009

25 years it can't be, I don't look that old!.....okay I don't feel that old.

So this is it kids. This is where I was moulded and shaped into the man you see before you and yes this sorry bunch of reprobates are the people I shared a very special time in my life with.

I must confess I had a certain amount of trepidation about this reunion, the last one 10 years ago went really well and there was part of me that worried that we would fall flat on our faces and that the illusion I had created was all going to come crashing down. I needn't have worried! As I walked down into the school gardens and was greeted by the huge beaming smile from Ed Simpson I knew everything was going to be great.

What a day and what a school. It's changed a little since we were there but it still has a fantastic atmosphere and a really cosy feel about it. The only downer on the day was that they've turned our old study into a Maths stockroom, sacrilege!

Meeting old friends was just like stepping back 25 years, nothing seemed to have changed. Jon Anders was still trying to look cool (and achieving it sadly!) and Dommy Bell was trying to cause mischief and getting a weird amount of pleasure out of smoking in front of masters!

The evening was wild, drunken and hilarious and left me wanting more. 25 years seems to have gone in the blink of an eye, the great thing I discovered was that I was in a room of people who like me don't appear to have grown up. I can't wait for the next one.

Michael Bell (W 77-84)

Photographs of this event are available.