The Class of '75

Well, I'm driving the 200 miles to Sydney in about 10 minutes. I'm going to the reunion of the Class of 75 at my old High School.

No biggie, right?

Wrong.

Few schools have their own entry in Wikipedia.

Go read it. For those who are impatient, imagine a High School in the US that was the feeder school for Yale, which both George Washington, Walt Whitman, and half-a dozen recent presidents went to, along with many of the members of the Supreme Court. It's the equivalent. For UK readers, something along the lines of Eton, or Rugby.

Spouses are not invited, and dress is smart casual. I'll be wearing an ankle-length dress denim skirt, black knee boots, a gold belt and a black silk tunic. Plus an old school tie knotted highschool-girl-fashion just below the bust. Gold dangly earrings and a black bag to accessorise (the school colours are black and gold). No makeup apart from a little concealer.

My philosophy in dealing with Transition is not to let it interfere unduly with the rest of my life. I've been looking forward to this reunion for most of a decade, long before recent events of 7 months ago took a hold of my life, turned it upside down, and gave it a good shake.

Did you notice something about the school in the wikipedia article? I guess I'll be giving the reputation for tolerance, diversity and a liberal education a bit of a test.

It's a Boys school.

Wish me luck!