23 July 2016
Everyone says it, ‘hard to believe it’s twenty years’, and then the day comes.
In our case the weekend started with an unofficial attendance of assembly. Boys High Old Boys being what they are there is always someone who has to ask what the dress code is, as if one can forget that it is always jacket and tie, at the very least. Then there is always one joker who has a quick retort, ‘Hawaiian’ and then there always has to be the one, who arrives in a colourful unsuited shirt. It is all good fun!
Two hours later, thirty odd chaps gathered at Wingate Golf Club for a round of golf remembered more for the guzzlers than for the approach shots. The joy of the occasion was not just having so many of the class swinging clubs, but being accompanied by Chalky Sommerville, who looked the only serious player in the field.
On the Friday night we wandered over to The Club, where about sixty odd souls, some partners in tow, gathered for a festive drink and a light meal. The joy of the occasion was the arrival of Mr and Mrs van den Aardweg, both of whom enjoyed the company of some they had not seen for two decades. As always, with the first night, there are those reckless chaps who forget that one never spends all your powder on the first engagement, better to keep a reserve store, nonetheless rumours abounded in the morning of their late morning finish.
The rugby against the old enemy attracted a couple of chaps who’d found a bed in time to rise for the occasion.
At a little before six fully fifty guys in their ties, and one in the most colourful suit, actually I once saw a chap selling animal balloons in the very same suit in Bruges, gathered for a tour of the new hall and Bill Schroder Centre. It was simply astounding to see how much had changed and yet still how the character and so much stayed the same.
Formal proceedings began at seven, ninety folks sat down to dinner in the Sommerville Pavilion, and very quickly we were in full flight. Twenty years on it was great to hear the voices of Lincoln Keeton (now a master at the School), John Smit (Rugby player, administrator and singularly dedicated father), Darrin Lang (our unofficial ambassador to Italy), Emilio Eftychis (Architect, raconteur and general nice guy) and finally Kabelo Kekana (wizard and finance genius).
The crux of the Toast to the School, delivered by Kabelo, was about the values instilled in us, in every Boys High boy. It was about our duty to the School, and of the School to the country. Ultimately, it was a celebration of the brotherhood and the fabric that binds us all to one.
It was brilliant to hear from Mr Tony Reeler, giving us an update on things at the school. His reply was met with a rousing cheer.
It was, however, at the open mike that things were really moving. Besides the brief address by Mr Schroder (invited to reply to a comment made by one of the guys) it was Kenny Smith who stole the show. He had left Affies at the end of form I to start at PBHS in form II. His point was a simple but sincere thanks, not just to the headmaster for taking him in, but to all of us, for the friendships and support, for everything that made life rich and worth the distance.
Rumour has it that the bar at the school only closed at one, that the last person out was a former headmaster and a present one, but I cannot confirm it.
At the Club, the lads celebrated an excellent weekend together, and when the first Lapwings roused in the early morning sun, the doors closed and the last few chaps headed off into the sunrise, ready for the next reunion.
Eugene Ashton
Convenor, Class of 1996
