Priceless Paintings from W7

We held a twenty-plus-year-no-see boy scout reunion over the past bank holiday weekend (some photos are here, and a discussion board is here).

That’s ex-boy scouts and girl guides, coz’ we were a mixed-sex group (VCP). Nice, especially when you’re a teenager Those who made it into the circle of leaders, typically between the years of 15 and 19, have spent almost all out-of-school time together. This is the group that met, from the leadership circle of the 80s. We used to spend our time with meetings, preparations, camps and various outings. And when we weren’t with the scouts, we still meet. Eventually, finishing school, starting a profession or moving away for university broke it all apart. Gently for some, but thoroughly for most.

When we met again last last Friday, most hadn’t met or even been in touch for 20 or more years. That’s really strange when you think about it. Fascinatingly, we could simply continue where we had left off. Everyone grew older in the meantime. Some grew fatter, some grew gray hair, but by and large, we all still were who we once were, and none had to proof anything to anyone.

Even the old knowledge about scout tent construction was just there as if it hadn’t paused all those many years, and the same who always made way too much firewood quickly started cutting and chopping way too much firewood.

We ended up enjoying two fine days and two balmy nights in the open, talking until well past midnight (and almost to sunrise). Every one enjoyed a lovely weekend –except the sleep deprivation-, until Sunday noon: the hour of farewell and departure.

I wasn’t the only one with a big fat lump in my throat, and it comes back when I write those lines. Goes to show that one should never forget the old friends.

Lesson learnt.

P.S. You may ask in a year or so how or if I managed to deliver my pledge and stay in touch, of course.

Thoughts friends, scouts