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BFES Schools Singapore Ex-Student Reunion Pictures

CONTENTS
Home Page
St. Johns - Jan 2002
St. Johns - Aug 2002
Hatfield - 2002
Hatfield - 2005
Chandos Pub - Sept 2005
Harp Pub - March 2006
Chandos Pub - Oct 2006
Chandos Pub - Apr 2007
Hatfield - 2007
Chandos Pub - Apr 2008
Chandos Pub - Nov 2008
York - Feb 2009
Mini Reunions
Singapore Reprise - poem
Chandos Pub - Jun 2009
Hatfield - March 2010
Chandos Pub - Sept 2010
Plymouth - August 2011
Chandos Pub - Oct 2011
Chandos Pub - June 2013
Singapore Reunion 2014
Google Ads
Singapore Strollers

Did you spend some of your formative years in the Far East?

Do you live within 50 miles of Bath/Bristol?

Do you enjoy strolling in the countryside (max 8 miles), usually on a Sunday, not starting early and with a lunchtime rest for refreshment at a pub?

 

If yes, why don't you get in touch with Singapore Strollers  

to find out what walks we have planned and - better still - join us.  Loved ones with four or two legs are most welcome as long as they don't bite.  We all went to school in Singapore in the sixties, and want to expand our circle.

 

A poem by Ian Royce on the first Hatfield Reunion, sent to me by Ken Wildon who said "I think all who have ever been to such a reunion for the first time will feel at one with this poem, and those who have yet to pluck up the courage to face such an ordeal will feel encouraged and reassured by Ian's words."  Credit to Sheila and Sue (nee Cuthbert) for dragging their husbands to the first Reunion, otherwise this poem would never have been written.

SINGAPORE REPRISE 

At the door stand shyly worried

Fix your name-tag, fingers hurried.

Nervous smile, anticipating

The past incarnate, ghosts in waiting.

 

Scan the faces, cruise the tables

Peer at names on stick-on labels

Wind back memory, far-flung places

Strip the years from world-worn faces.

Accept a hand and shake it, eager,

But "No, I'm sorry, not my era.

Sixty-ish?  No, I much younger!"

Keep on searching - feed the hunger.

 

(The need to fit, the need to find

Not just the photos to remind;

But the life, the times, the laughter

Feeding dreams for ever after.

Fourteen, fifteen, sixteen, twenty -

Singapore the land of plenty.

Took a while to readjust,

But that was then and now I must )

 

"My God, it's you!" - voice fever-pitched

And suddenly the night's bewitched

For this is surely what you came for

The kind of memory-loss to aim for.

Then the flicker - recognition;

Time flies backwards.  Now, ignition!

Fingers hide your dropping jaw

And suddenly you find that you're

Exuding tears for three decades

Not lost or wasted, just dismayed

That time has flitted on so fast.

And yet it's here, your favoured past.

As years fall off, don't try to catch them -

Listen to the tales and match them.

 

Circulate, swap stares with strangers

Spin the cogwheels, wipe off ages.

"It can't be, no, I don't believe it!

All that time not changed a bit!"

"Tell me, what became of whatsit?"

"Not too loud - he's sitting opposite."

And after all the tears and squealing:

"Oh my God, you live in Ealing!"

"Promise that you won't lose touch -

Pop round and see us, really must!"

 

 

The band fires up (or starts to smoulder),

Youthful idols now much older,

Squinting back through lost-chord mists

To pick out long-forgotten riffs.

Antique guitars and beat-up drum kit

Fingers stiff, rheumatic, unfit.

Chuck Berry duck-walk far too tiring -

Guys of fifty risk expiring.

Granddads now in role reversal -

"It's R&B - who needs rehearsal!

Gilman Youth Club music weaned us,

Rock 'n roll came intravenous."

 

Groupies then stood tanned in line

Keyhole dresses, empire line;

Now it's Lycra, Next and Marks

Older, wiser - shoes by Clarks.

And dancers now who once were teens

In long-abandoned hipster jeans,

Have sagging bust-lines, braces needed,

Varicose veins and hair receded,

Pensions, paunches, some bus passes,

HRT and "Where's my glasses?"

 

Later still the night's a jumble

Past re-living, memories tumble.

Days and years and lives forgotten

Back as kids in '60s cotton.

Hand-made clothes at silly prices

Chips by the pool and durian ices,

Trishaw rides and nasi goreng,

Tropical sun and monsoon pouring.

Tables rock at shy confessions -

Fumbling teenage poolside sessions.

 

Then too soon the night is ending,

Addresses swapped for e-mail sending.

Goodbye handshakes, kisses, tears -

"Don't wait another thirty years!"

 

Ian Royce 2001