13/365 Big School

I hate the phrase ‘Big School’. I’ve never really been clear for whose benefit infantilising the rite of passage from nursery to primary school is – parent or offspring. 

But it made sense to me today. The term – or rather the intent behind it – has a forgivable charm behind it. The equivalent of me still sometimes calling on the services of my teddy bear. 

Tonight I had pleasure of a brief get-together with former university pals Julie and Ian. I was exhausted on arrival at Hither Green’s Metropolitan Elite HQ ‘Station Hotel’. I took the edge off with a couple of Amstels and a summary of the day’s events before Ian arrived (late) in a taxi. “Why didn’t you come to Hither Green on the train?” I asked him. “It was only £6.50 in a black cab from Lewisham. I’ve had a good day selling boats,” he beamed.

We nattered, gassed, teased and ate. It was a nourishing evening. Old friends catching-up on the present as though ten years hadn’t passed. Perfect.

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