Reunion

It is now 25 years since I passed through the hallowed portal of the old school on the hill, leaving its gate for the last time as a student of that august institution and heading out into December instead. Tonight, I am going to gather with a roomful of my former associates, now well-emplaced in all realms of life, and yarn.

We will talk about shoes and ships and sealing-wax, and cabbages and kings; and why the Sea of Faith is now boiling away, and whether pigs have lipstick. The oysters will slowly disappear, and the moon will come out, and All Hallows will come upon us like the very breath of God.

It will be pleasant to catch up and tell all the old jokes and add new ones. They will laugh when I recount my adventures with unclean birds and odd hobbits with hairy feet. I will laugh in return when they tell me about post-economic theory and why cheese is related to iron deposits in Germany.

It will have been a long time since I last hung out with the father of my first two god-children. He and I did all the usual things when young, from loitering with intent around the Emerald Gate at the House of Jade and Gold, to shooting the breeze while listening to Spyro Gyra and eating self-prepared sandwiches while trespassing on the grounds of the Tan Kah Kee Higher Institute of Candle-Burning.

Life is good now. It is so very good.