a double scoop of memories, with a large sprinkling of longing.
It’s that time of the two years again, with Fun-O-Rama tantalizingly around the corner. Few true blooded ACians remember it with anything but longing, many buying up tickets from relieved year 2s, who will one day do the same. The hastily cobbled together games, the mouthwatering food, the God-send drinks stalls, the haunted houses and the institutional dunking board. It’s a time of year as festive as Christmas, and boasting goodies to rival Chinese New Year, in the heart of this old ACian.
Many things have changed in the past 6 years since I clawed my way through the hallowed blue and yellow gates. Buildings have risen, teachers have changed, even my combination is gone. Funny then how my heart beats a little quicker when I meet another ACian, long graduated, but still missing the ice milo. Or how it skips a beat when seeing another car, in this home away from home, that also bears the bumper sticker of AC pride.
Even funnier when I stop to think that I was neither smart, nor popular, nor particularly outstanding in anyway. The small group of us alumni from my social circle that keep in touch, meet but sporadically, dictated by overseas university timetables, frenetic study and burgeoning careers. What then would have made AC mark me so deeply?
Not the academia itself, for the less said about that, the better. Not the sometimes frustrating, often bewildering social networks, which often times confounded and eluded me. The council that I claim so much pride in, but sometimes felt so apart from? The drama denziens, whom meet up with once in a blue blue moon? Perhaps, and perhaps not, since analyzing the biggest things of my AC life yields no answers. But still I feel the siren call. It comes from the heart, from the soul of a school that is more than its victories, more than its awards, greater than the building that housed it, more awe inspiring that a full moon over the sports hall seen from the bleachers.
Whatever it is, wherever it comes from, I know that the deepdeep pride of AC still calls from within, deeper, stronger and bigger than anything else from that period in my life. The remembered golden years of council duty and service, drama performance and pride, school unity and loyalty, all meld together on a dusty police academy rugby field, as mind, heart and voice, we are all one.
